by Megan Hart
“What makes you think anything’s bothering her?”
“I can tell.”
My mother fussed with platters of deli meats and cheese that we spread out on the counter. They’d all been pretty well picked over, the turkey tumbled with the roast beef and impolitely nudging the ham. My mother, fork in hand like a dagger, stabbed the slices and rearranged them into neatly segregated rows.
I was no more willing to argue with my mother’s statements about a mother’s ability to judge what her children needed than I was with Adam’s mother. I wouldn’t have won against either one of them, in any case. Besides, what she was asking was nothing new.
“Then you talk to her.”
My clipped reply made her look up again, fork poised in the air. There’s nothing quite like pissing off your mother to churn your stomach. Mine, however, had been in an uproar for so long it didn’t seem to make much difference that my comment had made my mother’s mouth thin in that telltale way. It wasn’t only mothers who know their children; daughters know our mothers, too.
“I think your sister could use your help,” my mother said stiffly. “With Evan traveling so much and the baby on the way, I think she’s got too much on her plate—”
It was more of the same old story, the one my mother’d been telling since Katie was born. ‘Take care of your sister.’ It didn’t matter how old we were or what was going on in our lives, I was the older sister. The responsible one, the smart one…I was never the one who needed taken care of. Watching my sister with her husband and child, I couldn’t stand to listen to my mother any longer.
“Mom, I can’t, okay?” I must have been sharp, because she flinched. “Get off my case about it. I can’t.”
“Fine.” She bent back to her task. “Though I have to say I’m very disappointed in you. I think she could use someone to talk to. She needs you. I’m worried about her….”
“She’s always the one you worry about.” The words, like acid, burned my throat. I sipped my drink to wash away the bitter taste of sibling rivalry, but it wouldn’t go.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My mother turned, still wielding her fork.
“Nothing. It means nothing.”
I excused myself and sought solace in the den, abandoned at the moment in favor of the places serving food and drink. The small room had once been part of the garage, but my dad had converted it as his domain when I was in high school. The far wall had been built with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with photo albums and paperback novels. I recognized the faux white leather cover of my wedding album, and I yanked it from its place on the shelf.
We’d had a simple ceremony. Struggling on Adam’s meager salary and with my bills for school, we hadn’t had the money or the desire to throw a lavish, traditional wedding. I’d bought my dress from a local thrift store and waitressed to pay for the wedding pictures. We both looked gorgeous.
We looked happy.
Married five years after me, Katie’d planned a vastly different affair. Bridesmaids, formal wear, a cocktail reception and a candlelight service. Both she and Evan had high paying, successful jobs and similar skills in the art of consumption. They’d spared no expense, either from their own pockets or their parents. Even their honeymoon had been lavish and exotic, a two week stay in Greece. Adam and I had gone to Niagara Falls for the weekend and went back to work and school the Tuesday after the wedding.
We’d made different choices, my sister and I. I didn’t envy her the grand, expensive ceremony, or the five thousand dollar wedding dress; those were things that had been unimportant to me. Yet now, as I pulled her far thicker wedding album and laid it next to mine, resentment bubbled up. Not because she’d had her hair and nails done for professional portraits and looked like a princess while my photos weren’t as pretty. And not because she and Evan had served steak and lobster at their reception while Adam and I had been happy with chicken and fish.
She’d always had more. More of my parents’ attention, more friends, more parties, more clothes. More sense of style, more money, more adventures. More of everything but grief.
I didn’t hate my sister, but my mother’s admonishment, not the first and far from the last, had tipped me over an edge upon which I’d been teetering for a long time without knowing it.
I felt like shit about it, too.
I put the albums away. I needed to find my dad, wish him happy birthday and get home. Dennis was great and apparently Adam’s new best buddy, but he still cost time-and-a-half to work weekends, and I wanted to be able to buy a new car before the end of the year.
The books on the shelf had shifted and wouldn’t allow me to replace what I’d removed. Irritated, I shoved them aside to make room for the wedding albums, and in doing so scraped my knuckles. The cut was shallow but bled, and I sucked them with a muttered curse.
“You all right?” said Katie, her belly leading the way as she appeared in the doorway. “Sades?”
“Fine.” I blinked back tears of fury while anger rose in my throat and threatened to choke me. “Just fucking dandy.”
My sister had perfected the art of the pause. “Okay…”
I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see her flushed cheeks or the bulge of the baby inside her. A baby I wasn’t having. A joy I didn’t want and wouldn’t ever have. I pushed my hair off my face and straightened my shoulders.
“I’ve got to go home.”
“Hey,” she said. “What’s wrong? Was mom giving you a hard time?”
“No.”
“Jeez, sorry, it looked like she was, that’s all. Sadie, what’s wrong with you?”
It was just the question my mother had wanted me to ask Katie. I looked at her. She gave me a half smile, quizzical. She had no fucking clue.
“Mom wanted me to talk to you. She’s worried about you. Again.”
Katie rolled her eyes. Normally it would have made me feel better, and we might have shared a laugh at my mother’s overconcern. Today it only set my teeth further on edge. She had all the concern in the world, and didn’t need it.
“Yeah, she’s been on me,” she said. “Thinks I’m not taking care of myself, or something. Hey, she takes Lily for me, though. Gives me have some downtime.”
Caring for a grandchild was different than caring for a disabled son-in-law, there was no question of that. Knowing didn’t ease the surge of resentment flooding me. It was irrational, and I could do nothing about it.
“Hey, maybe she’ll watch Lily and we can grab a movie next week?”
“Katie, I told you, I can’t.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “Because of Adam.”
“Yes, because of Adam!” I snapped. “I can’t just leave him alone, Katie!”
“I thought you had someone—”
I cut her off. “Mrs. Lapp leaves at five-thirty and Dennis doesn’t come on duty until nine. It costs me money if they stay with him any other time, okay? It’s expensive, and I’m sorry if I don’t lead the grand lifestyle you’re used to, but that’s the way it is.”
Without giving her time to reply, I shouldered past her. “I have to go.”
“What bug crawled up your ass?” she cried. “God, Sadie, I just thought maybe you could use a break.”
There were two people in my life who’d been able to drive me into a state of white-hot fury. Adam and Katie. The two people I loved most.
“You don’t understand,” I snapped.
“Maybe if you told me about it, I would!”
“You never ask!” Our shouts grew progressively louder.
“You never want to talk about it!” Katie’s fists clenched. “You never talk about him to any of us! We ask you how he’s doing and you give us one word answers, he never comes around anymore and when we go over there he stays upstairs. Lily barely knows him!”
“I never talk about him because none of you like hearing about it! It’s uncomfortable and you’d rather not have all the details! It’s easier for you to just pretend it doesn’t exist.
It’s easier for you if I just keep it all to myself!” The cry echoed in the room. Guilt, transparent, flashed over her face and I knew I was right. I also knew I was being unfair.
“Sadie, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her, wanting to soften and unable in my misery to manage. “It’s easier for me, too.”
I left and she didn’t call after me. My mother caught me on the way out.
“Sadie Frances, what on earth is going on?”
I stopped, defeated. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I’ve got to go.”
“Did you talk to Katie?” My mom looked past me toward the den.
“She’s fine. You don’t have to worry about her.”
“Of course I do. She’s my daughter.”
“Well,” I answered stiffly. “I’m your daughter, too.”
“Oh, Sadie.” My mom reached to pat my shoulder. “I never have to worry about you. I know you can take care of yourself. Don’t you know that?”
Smart one. Pretty one. The roles we play come back to bite us in the ass. “Yeah, Mom. Okay.”
I wanted to be what she thought I was. What I’d always been. I’d told Katie the truth. It was easier for all of us, in the end, to maintain the status quo. Besides, it was a party. I put a smile on my face, gave my mom a hug and wished my dad a happy birthday. At home, I stood outside Adam’s door for ten minutes, listening to him and Dennis laughing and trying not to hate the world and everything in it.
Elle was silent today, not unusual for her, but not a step forward, either. She fidgeted in her chair, her fingers knotting in her lap. Today she’d gone back to wearing black and white. Definitely a step backward.
“It’s Dan’s mother,” she said finally. Then nothing else.
She rarely spoke of Dan’s family. “What about her?”
“She’s nice.”
Expecting a complaint, I had to think of how to reply. Knowing Elle had a penchant for talking around a subject before she got to the heart of it, I asked, “Do you mean nice as in really nice? Or are you being kind?”
She looked up, her smile guilty. “You know me too well, Dr. Danning.”
“I think that’s the point, isn’t it?” I teased gently, not a tactic for all my patients but one that worked with her.
“Yeah. I guess so.” She sighed, her shoulders tensing for a moment before she made an observable effort to relax them. “No, I mean she’s really nice. Super nice. She’s like…everything a mom should be. Mom Deluxe. She’s Mom Squared.”
“Unlike your mother.”
This earned a laugh from her that she covered with one hand, a guilty gesture, as if she didn’t want to find humor in what I’d said.
“Yes, unlike my own mother.”
“Elle, unless everything you’ve ever told me about your mother has been a lie, I think I am safe in saying she could have used a bit of motherhood training.”
She laughed again, the hand away from her lips this time. “Oh, I won’t argue with that.” She paused. “Do you think I’ve been lying?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Good.” Her brow creased. “Because I haven’t.”
“Good.”
She gave me another look. “Dan’s mother has taken me shopping. She’s offered me her secret recipe for brisket. She’s…um…oh, shit, Dr. Danning, she likes me.”
I let that hang between us for a moment or two.
“And why shouldn’t she?”
She made a wordless noise.
“Elle. Believe me, a lot of women would be glad to have their boyfriend’s mother like them.”
She let her head fall back to stare at the ceiling for a moment.
“Dan doesn’t have any sisters. His mother is thrilled to finally have a daughter. Her words.”
I could guess at the problem, but she needed to be the one to tell me. I waited for her to speak. She rubbed her forehead and shifted in her chair again before finally sighing as though it came all the way from her toes.
“I don’t know how to do it.”
Again, I waited.
“I don’t know how to be a daughter.” The words blurted from her lips and she took a deep breath like she’d been starved for air.
“Do you think she’s got high expectations?”
“Yes!”
Her vehemence startled me. Her fingers tapped the arm of the chair. Watching her consciously smooth the lines of tension in her body was like watching a ball of yarn unravel. One small section at time, she relaxed.
“Why do you think so?”
“She’s always wanted a daughter. Now, all of a sudden, she thinks she’s got one. Don’t you think she’s going to expect long, mother-daughter chats and giggling over shoes?”
“I don’t know Dan’s mother.”
“Well, I do,” Elle said. “And she likes shoes.”
“Don’t you think she likes other things, too? Would it be hard to find something you both enjoy and can connect on?”
“No, I guess not. I’m just not good at that sort of thing.”
She made a funny face and reached for her purse. She pulled out a bundle of fabric. I waited. She made the face again.
“It’s…a sweatshirt.”
“From Dan’s mother?”
She nodded.
“Are you going to let me see it?”
Elle’s sigh came from the toes of her classy black pumps. Fabric unfolded and kept unfolding, until she held up a garment easily large enough to fit two of her. She stood to show me the front of it.
“Oh, my.” I bit my lower lip, not wanting to offend with laughter.
“Kittens,” Elle said in a slightly strangled tone. “Playing with…yarn.”
I had to put my hand over my mouth, and even that didn’t stop the chortle.
“Go ahead and laugh,” she advised. “God knows Dan did.”
I gave in and laughed as she tucked the voluminous tribute to cuteness away. “Did he?”
“He says I don’t have to wear it.”
“But you feel you should, because it’s a gift.”
“Well, I sure as hell can’t make brisket!” She looked sour. “At least not without the fire department coming. He laughed about that, too.”
Her mouth tipped up into a smile. “Too bad the sweatshirt didn’t burn instead.”
“Maybe next time.”
She sighed again, looking at the clock. “Our time’s up.”
“I’ve got a few more minutes,” I told her. “Listen. Do you like her?”
“Yes.” She squirmed a little, laughter gone. “That’s why I’m so bothered.”
Pleased she’d admitted to it, I smiled. “Because you don’t want to let her down?”
“I don’t want to let her down, Dan, me…my mother…” Her voice trailed off, low.
Now we were getting to the crux of it. “Your mother?”
She nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I might be a shitty daughter but I’m hers. And…”
“You feel disloyal.”
Again, she nodded. “Yes. I do. Because I really like Dan’s mom.”
“Elle,” I told her gently. “It’s okay to like her. You don’t have to feel bad about that.”
“I’m afraid I’ve spent too long being a bad daughter. I know how to do that. I don’t know how to be something else.”
“Is that an excuse for not trying?”
She made another wordless noise, this one half a groan and half a sigh. “No. It’s just easier to keep doing the same thing. Play the same part, that’s all.”
Her words made me blink, hitting close to home as some of our previous conversations had. “There’s nothing that says you can’t change.”
“Not even if it changes everything else?”
I shook my head. “Not even then.”
Elle got up and reached a hand for me to shake. “I know you’re right, Dr. Danning.”
I squeezed her fingers. “I know you know I’m right. You have to know you’re right, too. Good luck with
the kittens.”
She snorted delicately. “Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
When she left, I picked up the phone to call my sister to apologize. Then I put the handset back in the cradle, uncertain of what I meant to say.
Chapter
07
April
This month, my name is Honey Adams. No, really it is. My daddy says the second he saw me all bundled up in my sweet pink blanket there in the nursery, he just knew I was going to be as sweet as honey. And he’s right.
My sister’s name is Angel because that’s what Daddy said she is. It’s her baby being baptized. My darling little nephew, Noah. He looks so cute in his little white baptismal gown with everyone oohing and ahhing over him.
Daddy’s so proud of his new grandson he’s paid for a party almost as lavish as the reception he gave for Angel’s wedding to John. There’s a huge buffet table, an open bar, even a DJ to help us all celebrate. Angel looks tired and John’s a little annoyed, but I figure they should just put smiles on their faces and be glad someone else is picking up the tab. They’d never be able to afford a party like this, not on what John makes. That’s what I heard Daddy say.
I can’t wait until it’s my turn. I’ll be a gorgeous bride, and when I start having babies, I just know they’ll be even more adorable than little Noah. I’ll be the best mother ever, and I won’t ever complain and cry like Angel does. I won’t turn into what Daddy calls a “puddin” either.
Daddy’s carrying Noah around as if he were a trophy. Mom’s over by the bar, supervising the caterer. I’ve got on the cutest new pink skirt, but there isn’t anyone to talk to here. I’m bored, and when I spot Joey from across the room, suddenly I’m all smiles.
“Jooooey!”
My daddy and Joey’s daddy are old hunting buddies, and I guess I’ve known Joey since I was born. There’s seven years difference between us, which used to matter a whole lot when we were kids but doesn’t so much, now. At least it shouldn’t.
He looks up from his conversation with some redhead I don’t know. He’s got a drink in his hand. He looks really good, but then, he always does. I’ve had a crush on Joey since the summer between fourth and fifth grade, when he used to come over to our house almost every day to swim in the pool. He used to jackknife off the diving board and come up with the water slicking his hair back, and everything about him was golden.