by Kris Ripper
“Not exactly,” Jake said. “Singer was a lot more brave than I was in high school. But we met again, later.”
“And fell in love? Aw!”
“Regina, for heaven’s sake—”
“I’m not allowed to think it’s cute? Mama, it’s like, if they’re gonna be Miles’s parents, then it’s nice, it’s good they’ve known each other so long. It’s just like me and David. That’s his daddy, but he won’t grow up and act like a man.”
“If you would grow up, Miles wouldn’t need new parents, Regina—”
But Regina had already turned back, addressing Jake now. “I got this one girlfriend, she had her baby taken away, and she doesn’t ever get to see her. That’s not what you guys would do, though, right? I mean, Brandi says I can still see him and anyway, it’s not like you guys’re gonna be his mama, that’s me.”
“You let them do this, girl, and he doesn’t have a mama anymore.”
Regina rolled her eyes, and Singer glanced sideways, reading in Jake’s face the concern he felt, not on their behalf but on hers. When he looked up again he accidentally met Marie’s gaze, and yes, she was afraid, she understood the system so much better than Regina did, maybe better than Jake and Singer. If they legally adopted Miles, he became their responsibility alone. A year from now, two years from now, five years from now, they could spirit him off to another city, another state, and she’d never see him again.
“You will definitely always be his mother, Regina,” Singer said. “Jake’s sister-in-law would like to do a painting of the two of you for his room. I mean, if—if we end up being his permanent placement. Would you mind if I took a picture of you?”
“Of course! Smile, baby! Say cheese!”
Brandi came back to lead Regina (and Miles) away for paperwork, and Marie sat at the table in the visiting room with them in absolute silence. You could probably hear the clock tick, Singer thought, if there wasn’t so much white noise in the rest of the office.
The visit ended without fanfare, and Miles settled into Jake’s arms, head pillowed on the hollow below Jake’s clavicle, like he usually did when he was tired. Regina giggled and kissed him a few more times, but Marie looked like she’d swallowed nails. Singer couldn’t decide if he felt proud that, clearly, they couldn’t be screwing it up too badly as parents, or wretchedly sad that their particular path to parenthood seemed laced with quite so much devastation. Surely, eventually, Regina, too, would feel as though he had been stolen out from under her. Even if at the moment she was simply delighted to have snagged trendy gay men for Miles.
They chorused “nice to meet you”s at each other and escaped.
25
Viv
62 days until starting over
The afternoon of Miles’s birthday party was uncomfortably warm for autumn. Viv had assumed she would be expected to play hostess, but when she emerged from the guesthouse prepared to do so, she discovered that Singer had already taken care of everything. Cathy arrived shortly thereafter (with cupcakes, of course) and immediately involved herself in the remaining setup. Viv looked to Singer—addressing overbearing guests was always tricky—but he seemed to welcome her intrusion.
In some ways, he’d always been a mystery to her. It shouldn’t be any surprise that he still was. She finally found a shady place to sit from which she could observe the party like a spectator. It was hard to believe Lisa and Singer had once been this young. She had hosted Singer’s birthday parties in this very yard, full of school classmates and organized activities. He’d been a lively, promising child, all laughter and bright smiles. It was difficult to reconcile that memory with the shutdown, tightly wound man he’d become. When had he pulled in? At ten, maybe. Eleven, twelve. That gulf between Singer and the other children growing larger as he aged. She and Drew hadn’t acknowledged it to each other, not explicitly, but they hadn’t asked him about girls, either.
She had caught him looking at another boy once, in a grocery store. He’d blushed bright red, and she’d asked, too loudly, what cereal he wanted. They hadn’t looked at each other again until dinner.
Lisa had been so much easier. She’d grown into the young woman Viv always imagined she would be—a girl a lot like Viv had been. She’d seemed destined to follow the same steady path: college, a husband, a family. A secure future. All of it derailed by that place. Now, without a college diploma, without anything approaching a husband or a family, Lisa was practically a stranger. Her interest in this Emery boy, for instance. Sometimes a mother just knows things, and Viv didn’t like the way he looked at Lisa. This new Lisa. The old Lisa wouldn’t have spared him a second glance, but now? Now Lisa seemed almost flattered by his attention.
It incensed Viv. Lisa was beautiful and smart and should have brushed aside the likes of Emery without thinking. She could have any boy. Surely she saw that. What had that place done to her that she now settled for such an unsuitable young man? Maybe whatever it was, this regrettable dalliance with Emery would get it out of her system.
As long as she didn’t get pregnant. One thing this family did not need was more strange children running around.
She spotted Jake with Miles, standing in a group of his family members. It wasn’t that she disliked Jake. He seemed like a nice enough boy. But clearly this entire adoption thing was his idea, and Singer was simply going along with it. He wasn’t standing with Jake—which would make sense, at their foster son’s birthday—he was bustling around, never still for longer than a moment. It couldn’t be any clearer that Singer was avoiding the entire thing because he wasn’t sure how to end it.
Nothing made sense: Jake, adoption. This Emery. Was all of it somehow her fault? How could her children gravitate toward such extreme points without it being a reflection of how they saw their own family? And if it was … that was even more confusing. She could not imagine how things had gotten to the state they were currently in.
For the first time she wished Drew had come with her. Viv, back straight in her chair (there was no excuse for bad posture), surveyed the yard. The spa was closed, though some collection of Jake’s people were using the lid as a tabletop, covering it with cups. Better that Drew not see that. But at least he would understand the … incongruence of this gathering. It wasn’t merely the surprise of adopted children, or the presence of so many outsiders. It was all of those things combined, along with the raw absence of the orderly future they’d imagined.
“Vivian! We’re about to start cupcakes.”
She smiled at Jake’s mother. “You really must call me Viv, everyone does.”
“I keep forgetting.” Cathy was shorter than either of her sons, sturdily built, and she spoke in emphatic declarative sentences. “There are more than enough cupcakes for everyone, if you’d like to join in.”
“Cupcakes before dinner?”
Cathy smiled easily. “Derrie tradition. Buys us a little bit of time to eat while the kids run themselves ragged. It’s so weird to me that we never met when Carey and Lisa were in school, though that’s probably my fault. I’m afraid the boys were on their own a lot by that age.”
Viv, try as she might, couldn’t find any cutting undercurrent to the words. She’d expected Jake’s mother to be brash and arrogant—an ER nurse with a calling was how she’d described Cathy to Drew—but in actual fact, Cathy had been nothing but kind.
“I don’t think I need a cupcake, but thank you for offering.” Please don’t linger to chat.
“Of course. We are family now, Viv. Let me know if you need anything.” Cathy turned away, ruffling the hair of one of the children who belonged to the Asian woman.
Family. What a loose way some people used the word. No marriage, no official adoption. They were hardly more family than any two women whose oldest children graduated the same year. Cathy was deluding herself. After all, if Singer had been serious about Jake, wouldn’t they have at least begun planning a weddi
ng by now? Instead of this indefinite living arrangement in a house that was not their own. She’d have to speak to him. Having one foot out the door was one thing, but involving children was yet another.
Her eyes tracked Lisa, approaching her brother, the two of them speaking for a moment. A ponytail, no makeup, a pair of jeans of all things. It was as if she didn’t take herself seriously. If she put the smallest amount of effort out, she wouldn’t be so enthralled by the first man who showed an ounce of interest.
Viv thought, for a moment, that Lisa caught her eye. She leaned slightly forward. Her children, even nearly unrecognizable, were still an oasis in this sea of strangers.
Then both of them turned away and separated, off to different areas. Singer went to talk with Jake’s father at the barbecue. Lisa went to stand with Emery and that rather overweight woman whose tie to Jake’s family was murky.
For a moment Viv just sat there, while some heated, unconscionable feeling rose up in her. This was not how it was supposed to be. Who were these people? Why were there so many of them? And how did it come to pass that she sat here, in her own deck chair, in the shade of a tree she’d watched grow for twenty years outside her kitchen window, and no one seemed to realize they were trespassing in her life?
With effort, she dredged up a bland smile, appropriate to watch children with frosting on their hands and faces zoom around the yard. Only a few more hours, as endless as they would seem. Then she could retreat to the guesthouse—her own guesthouse—and maybe tonight she would think of some way out of this mess. At least for Lisa. If she would only agree to move back down to Valencia, where Viv could help her, but Lisa wouldn’t deign to discuss it.
Viv had tried to live her life well, to follow the rules, but no one had prepared her for this.
A ball rolled over and hit her foot.
“Sorry!” Jake called, jogging up with the baby in his arms. “Really sorry, Mrs. Thurman.”
It was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t invite him to drop the formality. Instead, she handed him the ball, and he handed it to Miles. She smiled slightly at the baby’s grin. “Oh, don’t mind me at all. Have fun, boys!”
“We will! Come on, Miles. You want to dunk a basket? Let’s go dunk!”
Such a tricky thing. She’d imagined, even anticipated, grandchildren. But not like this. Still, one couldn’t help but be charmed by the boy’s occasional laughter, his wide grins.
Beyond Jake and Miles, Singer stood in the doorway to the house, expression tight and drawn. When he caught her looking he turned away. Why were her children forever turning away from her?
She hid the now-familiar bewilderment and pretended to watch the game of ball, pondering how she could feel so foreign in her own home.
26
Singer
55 days with Miles
It was clear that Miles had no idea what a birthday was, but he was definitely pro-gifts, pro-cake, and pro-attention. Singer could hear his laughter from the kitchen.
“I’m glad Victor and Kara and the kids came over,” Jake said as they passed each other on the way in and out of the house. “Because apparently we know no one with kids except Mixie, and she’s stationed in Germany.”
Singer didn’t know Mixie well (she and her brother were in the branch of the Derrie family that had gone to Catholic high school), but he’d liked her and her husband when he met them. “I’m glad they’re here, too. Do you think this means we need more family friends?”
“Maybe that just … happens? Over time?”
Then Alice grabbed Jake for an urgent trike-building consult, and Singer still had a tray of snacks in his hands, so the most normal conversation they’d had in weeks came to an abrupt end.
Why could they only be normal when other people were around? Singer had the distinct impression that it was his fault.
“Hell of a party, Singer Thurman! Let me help.”
“By ‘help’ do you mean ‘take all the food,’ Frances?”
“Oh hell yes.” She spun away with her bounty.
“You could have invited Logan!” he called in retaliation.
Without pausing or dropping the tray, she flipped him off backward. He couldn’t help smiling when Cathy scolded her. The presence of non-Derries at this gathering changed the rules. Even now Victor and Carey were talking about something while throwing around a football, and Kara was deep in conversation with Joe at the barbecue. Emery was showing Rachel how to use his camera, to her obvious delight.
Mother, of course, sat primly in a chair, looking uncomfortable with her paper plate balanced on her knee.
“Is it wrong that I kind of want to spray her with the hose?” Lisa whispered, coming up behind him. “Not seriously. But kind of.”
“Don’t tempt me. Would it kill her to act like she might be enjoying herself?”
“I don’t know. It might. If she smiled her face might crack. Uh-oh. We better separate. She’s looking at us, and I think she might actually be thinking about coming over here.”
“Bite your tongue,” he muttered.
Lisa wandered over to stand with Emery (strategically a good idea, since Mother would never approach any group of which Emery was a part). Singer headed for Joe and Kara. They were probably safe.
“It’s the only thing they disagree on,” Kara was saying. “Victor scoffs at anyone who uses charcoal, and my father secretly thinks only men of weak character buy propane-powered barbecues.”
Joe laughed. “Every time all of us get together, there’s a fight over who’s in charge of the grill. One year it got so bad that my brother Rob brought over a little Webber so he could cook a portion of the chicken ‘correctly’ for people who had taste. Now, Cathy’s family would rather fight about whether or not the UN is overreaching with their new sanctions against whoever, and I can barely keep up. The boys get their brains from her.” He smiled at Singer. “How’s he doing? Not too overwhelmed?”
“I think by the end of today he might be more convinced that walking is a good goal.”
“That was Jake all over. Carey we couldn’t keep in one place from the second he realized other people could move around. Jake, though. Jake didn’t mind waiting to see what would happen instead of making something happen.”
“My sister and I were the opposite,” Kara said. “Everyone always praised me for being such a good girl, meaning I mostly stayed quiet and didn’t cause trouble. My parents said it was a rude awakening when Kim came along and had a totally different personality.”
“Did they think your behavior reflected on their parenting?”
“Exactly. They patted themselves on the backs for three years about what good parents they were, and then from the second Kim could crawl and talk, she never stopped moving. And she still hasn’t stopped talking.”
Joe nodded. “It’s so tempting to take credit for everything your kids do that people find acceptable and to disavow anything they do that isn’t. Or to see genetics everywhere. Even knowing your kids are adopted, I can see your husband in the way your older son throws a ball. I think I’ve been relying too much all these years on heredity, when I should have been looking at environment.”
“Oh, there’s definitely a mixture,” she agreed. “What about you and your sister, Singer?”
“I think we’re only discovering how similar we are now, as adults. When we were younger I think we each would have preferred an announcement that we weren’t the same species.”
“You and me both.”
“The Derries were always a tribe of their own,” Joe said. “Which I took as proof that blood was thicker than water, but I don’t know. You couldn’t look around this party and tell who was related to whom, and who technically wasn’t.” His hand clamped down on Singer’s shoulder. “I’m thankful for all of my family.”
“Me too,” Singer said, eyes catching on Mother again. I just
wish some of them would go away and leave us in peace.
“Cupcake and presents!” Jake called from the slider. “Everyone to the table.”
“Cake before food?” Kara asked.
“Sorry about that.” Joe waved his tongs in the air. “Old family tradition.”
Singer flipped through the family gatherings he’d been to over the years. “I never noticed that. Usually the cupcakes are out at the beginning, and I guess I assumed it was because Cathy likes cupcakes.”
“Oh, there’s always a method to our madness, Singer. You’re a parent now, and parenting initiates you into a deeper level of family mythology.”
“That sounds vaguely ominous.”
Joe grinned. “Nah. We’re harmless.”
The Derries were anything but harmless. Singer made himself smile, but all he could think was that he wasn’t worthy to be part of these people, who loved so completely, and that any moment now they’d figure it out.
27
Lisa
83 days since leaving Grace
Thursday had been endless and extreme, like a marathon, only instead of running—meditative, physical—it had been mental warfare.
Except, the other side had no idea they were at war.
Ever since Miles’s birthday party, Mother had been … escalating. In small ways, maybe—a few more passive aggressive digs about Singer here, undercutting Jake’s role in the house there—but after yet another new therapist this morning, Lisa had been her target all day.
“We’ll get sushi for dinner.” Mother was clearly oblivious to the very real feeling of collapse beginning to crackle along Lisa’s muscle groups, as if her body were preparing to protect itself by any means necessary, and that included playing dead.