Grandpop said, “Girls, you can be anything you want.”
Now I wondered, sitting on Mom’s porch that day, if maybe we hadn’t become exactly who we wanted to be, at least in some ways. Just the thought made me hope that I wasn’t going to have to go back to work after this baby was born. I assumed that James would be fair to me and that our lawyers could reach an agreement—once the divorce papers were filed, of course—but who really knew? I’d heard horror stories about how these things went down. Thank God I hadn’t signed that prenup. And at least there was still the money from my dad. I made a mental note to talk to Mom about it later on.
I took a sip of celery juice and mirrored the face my sister was making. “Emerson,” I said, “this is positively vile. I do not know how you do it.”
She shrugged. “I kind of like it.”
“Blech,” Sloane said. “Can’t you mix some lemon or something with it?”
Emerson looked at the glass. “No. Too much sugar. You can only have one lemon per day, and I have to have it to balance out the kale.”
Sloane raised her eyebrow at me.
“I know,” I said.
“It’s for a role,” Emerson said. “Why doesn’t anyone get this? I’ve been acting since forever, remember? You always have to come to my D-list stuff?”
“Speaking of,” I said, “what is the role, anyway? You’ve been awfully cagey about the whole thing.”
She waved her hand. “That’s work. It’s boring. Let’s talk about something more fun.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like Mom,” Sloane chimed in. “How does she seem?”
I looked out over the water again. It was so hard to read my mom sometimes. Ever since our dad died, she had made it her life’s mission to be perpetually fine. “She seems good,” I said. “She looks fantastic.”
“Doesn’t she?” Emerson said. “Did you see her arms?”
“I know,” Sloane said. “It’s bad when you’re jealous of your fifty-eight-year-old mother’s body.”
I didn’t say it, because I’d been working on the whole brain-to-mouth filtration situation. But Mom definitely looked better than Sloane. So I politely said, “If anyone would like a copy, I’m happy to forward you the workout regimen I have Mom on.”
They both burst out laughing. They could laugh all they wanted, but Sloane would be receiving an e-mail. And Emerson would be receiving one about how being too thin ages your face more quickly. My therapist said my weight obsession was a control issue, a response to my father’s death. But, even if she was right, I couldn’t control my control issue, ironically. Besides, she didn’t get it. I did these things out of love. I was very misunderstood.
“Oh, my gosh!” Sloane said.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you think Mom has a man, and that’s why she looks so good?”
Emerson shook her head. “No way. I grilled Kyle about it, and he said there is no action at the Murphy house.” She paused. “But honestly, if you ask me, it’s about time. I mean, no, I don’t want to have to call anyone Daddy, but the woman can’t be alone forever. It has been sixteen years.”
We all got quiet. It might have been sixteen years, but it still felt fresh every single time it was brought up.
“I think we should make it our mission while we’re home to find Mom a man,” I said.
Sloane nodded. “I agree wholeheartedly. Can you imagine how lonely she gets around here in this big old house, rambling around alone?”
Emerson shook her head.
I heard the door creak open at the neighbor’s house. “Hi, Mr. Solomon,” I called loudly, waving.
He muttered something under his breath and walked back inside.
I accidentally took another sip of that vile celery concoction and said, “I think he’s warming to me. What do you think?”
We all laughed. I wrapped my thin sweater around myself.
Emerson said, “Who wants to go for a nice long walk?”
Sloane nodded. “I have nine pounds to lose. I’m going to be in the best shape of my life when Adam gets home.”
Whew. That was going to save me so much e-mail.
“You look great,” Emerson said, smiling and looping her arm around her sister’s.
“She’s lying,” I said, also smiling.
Sloane looped her other arm around mine. “I know she’s lying,” she said. “But sometimes it’s nice to hear something nice. You know?”
“Oh,” I said. “OK. Your kids are adorable. That’s the truth, and it’s nice. Aren’t you proud of me?”
“Growth,” Sloane said.
“Absolutely,” Emerson said. “We’ll get a little Southerner in you yet.”
I doubted that very highly, but it was such a nice day I didn’t argue. Walking down the street with my two sisters, I felt like life was going to go on—yet again. It might have been slightly south of simple. But like we always did, we’d figure it out together.
ELEVEN
work for it
ansley
One Saturday night before my senior year of college, my brother Scott and I were in Peachtree, out with a big group of friends, the same ones we had been cultivating since our childhood, when a man caught my eye.
Not a boy, mind you. A man. He was wearing pressed khaki pants, a starched blue shirt, and a neatly knotted navy and white bow tie. I must have caught his eye, too, because he came over to me, ordered two beers, and said, “Hi, I’m Carter Murphy. I’m Eunice Murphy’s grandson. We’ve met a couple of times at your grandmother’s Fourth of July barbecues.”
“Barbecue” was a loose term. It was more like a five-star affair, with tents in the backyard, a fabulous caterer, a combo band, fireworks, and dancing until midnight.
When Carter introduced himself, I suddenly felt the night take a turn. I could have sworn there was a moment between us. But there couldn’t have been. He was much older than I was. So he was definitely not interested in me in that way.
We moved to a high-top bar table to get away from the noise. “So what’s going on with you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Trying to make a name for myself on Wall Street.”
I tipped my beer to him. “Oh, isn’t everyone?”
He laughed. “Maybe so. But between you and me, if you don’t have to work for it a little, it doesn’t mean a damn thing once you get it.”
I smiled. “I will remember that.”
“What about you? What’s going on in your life?”
I realized I was a tad tipsy. Emily and Sandra were making kissy faces at me from across the bar. There wasn’t any discreet way for me to signal that it wasn’t like that. So I let it go.
“I have one more year of college, and then it’s out into the cold, cruel world.”
He winked at me. “Manhattan is a great place for young up-and-coming decorators.”