It soon became clear, though, that Dawn was perfectly innocent. She and Beth had studied together for essay questions that the professor had handed out in advance. And how was that cheating when the professor more or less condoned it? The whole incident had sparked a campus-wide debate, one that eventually led to a ban on professors giving take-home exams and handing out possible essay questions in advance of finals. Meredith knows she let her daughter down, failed her during one of the most important tests of parenthood. What worries her more, though, is the other question: if it were Cody who’d been accused, would she have come to his defense immediately?
Meredith shakes her arms out, as if to set the memory loose. The self-judging of earlier tonight with Penelope in her dress (and wearing it so much better!) has dipped into something even more sinister, like the ways in which she has let her daughter down—and damn it, she does not want to go there tonight. Tonight is about celebrating, about being proud and toasting her kids.
“Ready for drink number three?” Cody and Roger have wandered off somewhere, and now Joel stands beside her, holding out a fluorescent pink cocktail.
“Oh, honey, thank you. How did you know?” She takes the glass from him. “This looks potent. Maybe I shouldn’t have it since I’m already feeling a bit wobbly?”
“Hey, you’re the one who said no more than three drinks per night, right? So, you’re still easily within your self-imposed parameters.”
She laughs. “Thanks for the reminder.” Despite her initial reluctance, the drink goes down smoothly when she takes a sip. “Do you think I should try to find Dawn? She seemed a little upset. I think maybe she was expecting to get one of those awards.”
“Dawn?” The surprise in his voice is evident, which Meredith both recognizes and is embarrassed by all over again. Neither one of them thought of Dawn during tonight’s awards ceremony. Only Cody.
“Yeah, well, she did get straight As this year.” As if to say, Of course, Dawn.
“That’s right,” says Joel. “Nah, why not leave her be? I’m sure she wants to hang out with her friends anyway. Remember what that was like? The night before you graduated?”
Meredith understands he’s asking hypothetically, but she tries to think back to that long-ago day. The campus wasn’t nearly as grand then. Over the past twenty years or so, Bolton has added a dance studio, a theater hall, and a brand-new track-and-field alongside a new freshman quadrangle of dorms. These additions come in large part thanks to a few alumni who struck it rich in dot-com dollars and have turned philanthropic in their middle age. What remains the same: the steep climb up the hill to campus. A preponderance of tan brick and ivy. The quadrangle of classroom buildings that crowns the hill. The gray-stoned church with its majestic spire towering above campus.
Even though she was born too late for the free-love revolution of the sixties, she remembers Bolton’s priding itself on its liberal leanings. There were a handful of marches and civil rights protests, a sit-in on the classroom quadrangle to protest apartheid, another rally to hire more female faculty. Weed could be easily had as well as some of the hallucinogenic drugs. Not that Meredith tried any of the stronger stuff—she was always too afraid she’d end up in an alternate universe, never to return. Marijuana, on the other hand, was marginally tolerated on campus, like cigarettes and alcohol.
During her junior and senior years, she’d worked as a tour guide for the admissions office, leading prospective students and their families around the green-leafed campus while chattering on about the benefits of a Bolton education. The sales pitch was simple: Bolton possessed all the rigor of an Ivy League college with the charm of a smaller New England school. Back then, the school’s tagline had been The Little Harvard of New England. The thought of it makes her cringe now. She doesn’t suppose anyone at Harvard ever considered Bolton to be a miniature replica of itself.
Nevertheless, she’d been proud to graduate a Bullfrog. Even prouder when both Cody and Dawn decided they wanted to call Bolton their alma mater, too. But the night before her graduation day? No, that’s too far back for her to remember. A Stone Age ago. A blur that most likely included alcohol, perhaps a pinch of Mary J. She certainly doesn’t recall an awards ceremony like this. If anything, prizes were handed out on graduation day, but even this memory is conjured through a hazy scrim of recollection.
“It’s weird, I can’t remember really. I think maybe I went out to dinner with my parents and some friends?” Meredith shakes her head, as if to bring the recollection into better focus, but nothing manifests itself. “Pathetic how much I’ve forgotten, isn’t it?”
“But you’ve proven my point exactly. You had such a good time that you don’t remember, and by that I mean, you probably got drunk enough that the night is forever blurred in your hippocampus.”
“Right, that must be it.” She loves that Joel can pull words like hippocampus from his therapist’s vocabulary. Meredith knows all about the tiny organ that collects long-term memories from her nursing school days, but it’s the rare guy, she imagines, who can bandy around such words as if they’re a common vegetable, like carrots or broccoli. “Now that you mention it, I do remember being pretty hungover the morning of graduation.” An image of herself and her girlfriends hunched over in their church pew for the mandatory morning meditation floats through her mind.
“See. There you go,” Joel says, as if that further confirms his theory. “Let her be, honey. She’ll be fine. And so will Cody.” Meredith, in her concern for Dawn, has completely lost sight of Cody. She scans the room, searching for her son’s seersucker blazer.
“Speaking of which, where did our boy go?”
Joel shrugs. “Off to have fun?”
“But I wanted to talk to him before we left. Make a plan for tomorrow.”
Joel’s face crinkles in amusement. “Honey, what more do you need to know than to show up at one o’clock tomorrow for the ceremony?”
“But what if he needs something? Something only I can get for him? Like a tie because he spilled something on his graduation tie? Or a gift for Melissa because he forgot to get her a present, which would be typical.” She realizes it probably sounds silly, helicopter-parenting at its height, but she doesn’t care. She wants her children to need her. At least for a few more days.
Joel bends to kiss the top of her head. “My sweet worrywart. Cody’s a big boy now. Remember? You’re supposed to practice letting him do things by himself.”
“Mmm-hmm.” The subject has become a tiny point of contention between them this past year, Joel urging her to let the kids spread their wings when Meredith isn’t quite ready to set them free. As steady as Cody is, it’s the little stuff that seems to slip his imagination, and she harbors doubts about whether her son is up to the challenge of handling graduation and its attendant requirements without some coaxing and prodding. But she’s willing to let it slide for the moment. Joel is probably right, anyway. Baby steps away from the nest, she reminds herself. “Where’s Mom?”
“She seems to have found some new friends.” Joel points to a nearby table where Carol chats with a few other grandmotherly types, then adds, “Be right back.” He sets off for the outhouses that have been set up on the lawn’s perimeter for tonight’s event, leaving Meredith to debate whether she should join her mother or play wallflower for the time being. Which is when Roger strides over, a big, goofy grin on his face.
“Those are some pretty amazing kids we have, huh?” His gold necklaces have knotted around each other so that the L, flipped backward, resembles a J.
Really, Meredith thinks, the man is too old to have monogrammed jewelry. He’s also wearing glasses, probably nonprescription, with hipster frames that don’t suit him. Another Lily touch, she assumes.
“They’re pretty spectacular,” Meredith agrees now. A spray of crumbs dots his collar, and she reaches over to brush them off. She can’t help it—the move comes to her instinctive
ly. Just as she tidied up their table earlier, whisking away plates and glasses. Joel would call it OCD, but Meredith disagrees. Twenty-one years of mothering instills certain mantras in a person, such as clean up after yourself—and others.
“You’re pretty spectacular yourself, you know, Meredith. You’ve done a fantastic job with them. You get all the credit.”
She arches an eyebrow, uncertain where to file her ex-husband’s unexpected praise. Roger must have downed his scotch awfully quickly if he’s complimenting her. Ordinarily, she would reply, Oh, no, it was a team effort! You contributed, too. For once, though, he’s acknowledging the hours (indeed, years!) of hard work and love she has poured into their children, and she’s not about to correct him.
Because he’s right. It’s Meredith who has been there for the kids every step of the way, even when it felt like stepping off a cliff (Cody’s near DUI charge one summer and Dawn’s being cast out by her friends are two examples that jump to mind). Maybe the wine emboldens her to say a simple thanks, but she doesn’t think so.
Roger grins and grips her arm, as if to better get her attention, as if she isn’t standing directly in front of him. “Remember when we were first married?” Uh-oh. Maybe he had a few scotches before he arrived? And where is Lily?
“I try to forget.” She laughs when she says it, but she’s only half kidding. If it weren’t for the kids, she would gladly forget most of it.
“And we used to leave little notes for each other?” It’s just like Roger to get maudlin on her here at the kids’ graduation when his new wife is AWOL.
“No entourage tonight?” Meredith asks, trying to steer the conversation back to more neutral territory.
“Not tonight, I’m afraid.”
“Usually you travel with a throng of admirers. Let’s see, where did I see you last? In the Herald? No, that wasn’t it. The Boston Globe.” Meredith remembers now. “You were surrounded by all sorts of young people at a New Kids on the Block concert.” She pauses. “I never knew you were a fan.”
“Oh, that.” He waves a free hand in the air. “That was Lily’s idea. She was a huge fan of theirs back in the day, and some good tickets came up. So...” His voice trails off.
“So,” Meredith resumes. “And where is Lily tonight?”
“Home. Getting ready for the big party.”
“Ah.” Meredith nods. Her Spanx are digging into her waist. Another strike against Lily. She should’ve guessed from Lily’s earlier Instagram post. Roger’s new wife is too busy planning an extravagant party for their kids that she can’t possibly get away for a few hours. On the other hand, Meredith is grateful for Lily’s sparing her uncomfortable chitchat tonight when there’s bound to be plenty ahead tomorrow, when everyone will go out for a celebratory dinner.
Were Meredith to be honest, the note-leaving was one of a handful of memories that she recalls fondly about her marriage to Roger. Would he be surprised if she told him she’d even saved a few? Not all, of course, only a couple that were particularly clever, little sayings that would appear, as if by magic, under a pillow, in an empty coffee cup, beneath her toothbrush. Paper talismans that portended the unspooling of a day. Once she discovered a note curled up in her Hunter rain boot with a line from an Emily Dickinson poem. Musings about love and whispering robins. Sure, there were some good times together—how else to explain staying married for fifteen years?
“And your hand?” She drains the remainder of her drink with her cocktail straw, grateful that the college hasn’t jumped on the no-straws bandwagon yet. “All healed up, I hope?” It’s been nearly three months since the accident, but the recovery process, she knows, has been slow.
Roger splays the fingers of his left hand out in front of him, the pinkie bent slightly inward. “Pretty much. Still a little stiff, but my physical therapist tells me that should resolve itself in a couple more weeks. Good thing I’m not a surgeon.” He drops his hand by his side.
“I’m really sorry about—”
But he cuts her off. “Nope. Not going to talk about it anymore, remember? Not your fault. I was an idiot for looking down at my phone when you were coming up the driveway. Serves me right.”
Meredith won’t argue with this, and, in fact, at times, when she replays the incident in her mind, she wonders if somewhere in her subconscious when she saw Roger staring at his phone—as he did so often and frustratingly in their marriage—a switch clicked. One that shouted, “You are no longer allowed to ignore me!” and that prodded her foot to press on the gas pedal instead of the brake as the car inched its way forward.
But the thought is interrupted by Joel, returning from the bathroom. “Well, hello, again. I see you’ve found my wife,” he says, joining their circle and prompting Roger to take a step back. She shoots her husband an amused look. Is Meredith mistaken, or did Joel just try to lay a claim, mark his territory like a pissing dog?
“Yes, I have,” says Roger. “I was just telling her what a great job she’s done with our kids.” Now Meredith senses the metaphorical ball bouncing back into Roger’s court. Our kids. They’re Joel’s kids, too, she wants to amend, but for some reason she stays quiet.
“Hasn’t she? They’re fantastic. I’ve loved watching them grow up,” replies Joel.
Score 2, Joel, she thinks now. How ridiculous that they find themselves in this volley of retorts, and yet somehow it also feels inevitable, given the circumstances. Just then, an attractive woman with auburn hair passes by and gives Joel a half smile and a wave before glancing quickly in Meredith’s direction. Joel’s face turns bright red—the man has never been able to keep a secret. Old girlfriend? Meredith tries to ask with her eyes, but he won’t even meet her gaze.
“Great kids,” Roger repeats and then suddenly clears his throat. “Well, hello there, Carol.”
As if sensing imminent discord in the air, her mother has left her table to come to Meredith’s side. “I think I’m ready to head back to the hotel, honey,” she announces, ignoring Roger completely. “Whenever you are.”
“Oh.” Meredith wasn’t expecting to cut out quite so soon, but then she’s not almost eighty years old, either. She eyes Joel, trying to get a read on his mood, and concludes from his nod that leaving would be perfectly fine by him, too. “Okay, sure, Mom. Let me find the kids to say goodbye before we go.”
“So nice to see you, Roger,” Carol states now, as if in afterthought. “How lovely that you could make it for this special night for your children.” It’s an insult masquerading as a polite compliment, a gesture at which her mother excels.
“And nice to see you!” He lets a small burp escape. “S’cuse me.”
Carol visibly recoils, as if someone has farted out loud. “You always were such a gentleman, Roger. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be waiting just beyond the tent.” She adds, “Whenever you’re ready, honey. Don’t rush on my account.”
“I’ll go with you.” Abruptly, Joel sets down his half-finished beer on a side tray, leaving Meredith and Roger to themselves.
“Well.” Roger clucks his tongue. “Glad to see your mom still has a soft spot for me.” Meredith laughs.
“Honestly? I think it gives her a reason to live, giving you a hard time whenever she bumps into you.”
“Happy to oblige. Whatever I can do to ensure she lives a long, vindictive life.”
Meredith smiles. “C’mon. She doesn’t really hate you. She’s protecting us.”
“Whatever you say.”
Meredith suspects her mother will forever remain the mama grizzly bear, guarding her young at the lip of the cave. In her rheumy eyes, Roger may be less threatening today than he was, perhaps, a decade ago, but he’s still worthy of her vigilance. Meredith gets it, is even appreciative.
“Well, I better find the kids before we go. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, till tomorrow,” he says and hoists his glass in her direct
ion while she walks away. But if she’s not mistaken, she thinks she can feel his eyes still following her when she hands off her glass and slips out of the tent.
EIGHT
Back at the hotel, Joel practically leaps into their king-size bed. Apparently, a fairy entered the room while they were away because the sheets are turned down and the sea of throw pillows has been transferred to a chair. It feels good to be back in air-conditioning, where he can feel his body returning to its normal temperature instead of hovering around a hundred degrees. Also good to be freed from having to make chitchat with parents he didn’t know and being ambushed by those he did. Like Roger and Kat. Meredith didn’t bring up Kat in the car, but he knows she caught her wave on the way out.
“You smell minty,” he says when she finally crawls into bed after her third shower of the day.
“I mistook my toothpaste for eye cream.” She laughs softly. “Those tiny travel tubes look exactly the same, and I didn’t have my glasses on. Maybe I’ll look younger in the morning thanks to Colgate, the miracle cream. You know, it does kind of tingle.” She nestles in closer, her skin cool against his chest. “Hey, who was that woman who waved at you right before we left?”
And there it is. Joel performs a ten-second internal debate about how much detail to go into. “Oh, she’s just an old friend from high school. Turns out she has a daughter graduating this weekend, too. Crazy, huh? What are the odds of bumping into someone from that long ago?”
He can feel Meredith shrug in his arms. “Don’t know. Probably not such long odds.” She yawns, rests her head on his chest, then lifts it up again.
“Wait a sec. Old friend as in old girlfriend? Was that Kat?”
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