I turn and look down at him. “So what in the world are you doing here, Niles?”
“Well, what a wonderful hello, and good to see you, too, after all these years, Georgia.”
“You didn’t answer my question. And didn’t you know that while you were in prison, God invented cell phones?”
He sits in the yellow chair. Holds up a black iPhone.
“I figured if I called, you wouldn’t see me, and I wanted to know how you were holding up since our daughter’s come home so distraught.”
“She’s not distraught. She’s in love.”
“Same difference.”
And then we just look at each other, unsure of what to say. I want him to leave and come back after I’ve had time to figure out just what to say to him.
“She’ll be okay.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Georgia. Don’t you remember how hard it felt being brokenhearted?”
I do, even though he didn’t really break my heart—he just disappointed me. But I say, “Of course I do.” And then I sit down in a gray chair, three seats away.
“And this is where we met,” he says. “Updated quite a bit. Nice touches.”
“So how was prison?” I ask, wishing it hadn’t slipped out like that. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and I know it was cruel. “I’m sorry, Niles. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“To be honest, it was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me, besides you and Frankie. It was an enlightening and humbling experience. I learned a lot.”
“Like what?”
“That I was an unbearable asshole.”
I nod. Loving this already.
“That I don’t always have to be in control.”
I try to wipe the smirk off my face.
“That I’m not always right.”
Silence.
And more silence.
“That’s it?”
“Well, I think everything else falls under the same general umbrella. Don’t you?”
“I’m not one to judge.”
“Oh, but that’s one thing you were always pretty good at, Georgia.”
I turn my head like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. “If you came here to indict me like you were indicted, you can leave now, Niles. I’ve got enough problems dealing with our daughter without being ridiculed by the ex-husband I haven’t seen in years. This is quite a hello.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, with the utmost sincerity. “But I came because I want to know what I can do to get off your most-hated list.”
“I never hated you, Niles.”
“You sure had me convinced.”
“I stopped liking you.”
“What’s the difference?”
“You went to college. You know there’s a difference.”
“They both mean that a person holds a great deal of disdain, which can become toxic. And it’s what I sensed you felt about me.”
“True. But not in the beginning. I just felt like you conned me.”
“Conned?”
“You misrepresented yourself to make me believe you were this kind and gentle and caring person, when in fact you wanted a woman you could control, but by the time I figured this out, I was already the mother of your child, which I also didn’t want to do—have another baby—at least not as soon as when you talked me into it—but as the clock ticked, I started realizing how much I was doing to please you, how you set the rules for how I was supposed to show you I loved you, but you never quite got around to caring how I might want to be loved.”
“Wow. Did you just press Play somewhere?”
“I think I might have.”
“Because, like I said, I was an asshole. However, I will say that I learned a lot of this from my father, who as a Nigerian ran his household and his wife like a drill sergeant. It was all I knew. And I’m sorry.”
“Well, those are two words I’ve never heard you say.”
“I’ve said them a lot over the years. It’s just taken me this long to say them to you, which is why I decided to show up unannounced.”
“Well, I’m sorry, too. That things turned out the way they did.”
“I’m a more easygoing guy now. And how about you?”
“I was always easygoing.”
He’s shaking his head. “We had more in common than you realized. We were like Darth Vader and Princess Leia.”
“Oh, really?”
“I hope you’ve softened up, but it doesn’t sound like you have.”
“You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve dropping by my office after a century without any advance notice with the sole purpose of criticizing my character. You haven’t changed as much as you think you have.”
“I’ve never criticized your character, Georgia. I just thought mine was more important. But you were struggling to be you without knowing how to stand up for yourself, so it was easy to get you to bend, but I see you’ve hardened up.”
“I haven’t hardened, Niles. Let’s not revisit our civil war, how’s that?”
“First I want you to let me have it once and for all.”
“Okay,” I say, with a long sigh. “Once I realized it was impossible to please you and how much of myself I’d lost trying to do just that, I had to make a choice, and I chose me. There.”
“I’m far less self-centered,” he says. “And I don’t expect to be your BFF just because our daughter’s going through a bout of anguish, but I’m willing to do whatever I can to help her, and it would be nice if we could bury the hatchet.”
“Consider it buried,” I say, and pop him upside the head.
He starts laughing.
And I crack up, too.
“So are you happy?” he asks.
I hate when anyone asks me that. It’s such a loaded fucking question. Are they talking aggregate years? Doesn’t it depend on the day, the moment? Or are they referring to last year or last month?
“I’m hopeful. And you?”
“Well, I’m trying to recognize it.”
“You’ve remarried.”
“I have. And she’s a wonderful person. However, she reminds me of me back when.”
“I hear she’s loaded.”
“You don’t know anything about her.”
“Well, wait a minute. Can I just ask you something totally off topic, Niles?”
He nods.
“What made you cheat on your taxes?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“It’s a long story, Georgia.”
“I’ve got a few minutes before I kick you out.”
“It wasn’t my intention to cheat. I did two things that were stupid. I withheld pertinent information and then just didn’t file for two years.”
“But why, Niles? Between the two of us, we made a good living.”
“Honestly?”
“No, please bullshit me after all these years.”
“Because you earned at least four times more than me, and I didn’t like the idea of it, so I simply availed myself of more of my income with the intention of paying my taxes at a later date. It was stupid.”
“Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught?”
“I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“What did your parents say?”
“My father hasn’t spoken to me since the conviction. My mother wrote to me, but she kept it under the radar so my father wouldn’t know. In fact, it was my mother who helped me pay off the IRS.”
“So you don’t owe them?”
“Not a dime.”
“Good for you, Niles. What are you doing now?”
“That’s a great question. I’m not a meteorologist, that’s for sure. Felons aren’t sought after by headhunters, you know.”
“Then back to my original comment: your wife must be loaded.”
“She does okay.”
“What does she do for a living?”
“She’s an interior designer.”
“Really?�
�� is all I say with feigned enthusiasm. I suppose I was hoping she was a doctor or something stiff or uninteresting. How’d he manage to find someone artistic?
“I’ve got a number of business plans in the works. And please don’t ask me what they are.”
“To be honest, I don’t really care, Niles. Well, that was mean. I should say I’m not that curious, but I hope you’re happy and doing well, and from the looks of it, you are.”
“Thank you. You do, too. You’ve added a few pounds, I see, but they become you.”
“Whatever, Niles.”
“Anyway, are you dating? I know you haven’t remarried.”
“Yes, I’m dating.”
“Anything serious?”
“Time will tell.”
I stand up. And then he stands up.
“Would you like to grab a bite?” he asks.
“Maybe some other time.”
“Seriously?”
“No. But it sounded nice, didn’t it?”
“I hope you never forget that you did love me once, Georgia.”
“I suppose I did, Niles, but unfortunately, it’s not what I remember most.”
I don’t want him to hug me, but he does anyway. And he feels like cardboard.
I’m strolling along Fourth Street in Berkeley. It’s block after block of amazing restaurants, artsy shops, and hip boutiques—everything you need for the mind, the body, and the home. The scent of candles and handmade soap escapes from doorways, but I walk into my wet dream: the Builders Booksource, and head straight to my favorite section: shelf after shelf of the best up-to-the-minute books and magazines on interior and furniture design. I have been known to spend hours in here, and it usually feels like minutes.
I’m not looking for anything in particular, just waiting for something to grab my attention, which always happens, and I’ve got shelves of proof at home. I pull out a big book on how to restore old furniture and feel a pang of excitement as soon as I open it. I sit on the floor in a corner and turn the pages like it’s a juicy romance novel. I buy it and head down the street to my favorite diner, where I stand in line along the sidewalk for another thirty minutes.
I feel my cell phone shivering in my pocket. I’m hoping it might be Frankie, who I would like to strangle for leaving me in the dark with the exception of a single text that said, GREAT NEWS COMING YOUR WAY!
No. That would be too much like right. It’s my mother.
“Hi, Ma,” I say, trying for enthusiasm.
“We’ll see you in about five hours, Georgia, depending on how many times we have to stop. You know Dolly has a weak bladder, and I refuse to go more than five miles over the speed limit.”
“Hold on a minute, Ma! What are you talking about? We never discussed or confirmed a date for you to come up!”
“I’ve left you two or three messages on your landline, as Estelle was kind enough to tell me they’re called now. It sounds like you didn’t get it. Don’t you listen to your messages?”
“Of course I do. But sometimes I get busy, Ma, and I don’t check the landline that often. Have you left already?”
“We’re about to gas up. It’s just Dolly and me. The boys finally landed jobs, if you can believe that. Hauling. Don’t ask me what, and Dolly just hopes they make enough to move out.”
“Ma, I need to put you on the schedule, because I can’t just have you and Dolly drop in for a checkup.”
“I don’t see why not. You’re the boss.”
“I’m only one of the bosses.”
“Well, I won’t go blind this weekend, and there’s always LensCrafters. To be honest, we just wanted to get out of Bakersfield for a few days, and we thought we could stay for a long weekend and spend a little quality time with you, since you never seem to have any time to come see any of your family here.”
“Ma, I’m coming down for your birthday.”
“I know that. And what’s to stop you?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I say, trying not to laugh. I love her.
“So are you still catching that train?”
“I am. Just not sure of the exact date yet.”
“And you’re still going by yourself?”
“I am.”
“That’s sad. By the way, I opened my big mouth and told Dolly, and I don’t even want to tell you what she said.”
“Then don’t. Anyway, I have a dinner date this evening, so you might beat me home.” Of course I’m lying through my teeth. I can’t remember the last time I had a date, but it sounds good, and I want my mother to think I have a social life and one that involves the opposite sex.
“Well, how long could that last? I know you’re not having sex anymore.”
“You do not know that, Ma.”
“Whatever. If there was somebody special in your life, I’d’ve heard it in your voice. But not so much as a lilt.”
“You didn’t hear a word I just said.”
“What’s the big to-do?”
“I’ve got a lot going on up here, Ma.”
“Like what?”
“Frankie might be there with her boyfriend.”
“And what’s that got to do with us coming? I haven’t seen my granddaughter since last Christmas. It’d be nice to see her. Estelle already gave me the lowdown. No biggie. She’s just young and in love.”
“Okay, but do me a huge favor, please. Have a little chat with Dolly and tell her to keep her thoughts to herself when she gets here, or before she knows it, she’ll be staying at a Motel 6.”
“Oh, baby. She’s just jealous of your success, and she can’t help it. Anyway, I want the guest room. Dolly can sleep in Estelle’s room, which I always thought felt like a disco, or she can sleep with you in that big, empty bed! Bye! Here she comes now, and that better not be a beer in that bag!”
“Ma!”
“What now?”
“Just keep in mind you have to go home by Tuesday at the latest, because I might have movers coming to pack up some of my things to put in storage. And if you beat me home, please tell Dolly no scrounging through my closet and asking me for stuff, or no free glasses for her.”
“No problemo.”
“Bye, Ma. Drive carefully. Look forward to seeing you.”
Right after I hang up, it dawns on me this is the weekend I was planning to do a few more of my searches and that I’d left the list of the first and last names of all five men in red Magic Marker on my desk. I know how nosy Ma is, and I certainly don’t trust Dolly.
I call right back.
“Ma, I forgot! Please don’t go in my office, because I have some very personal things in there that I don’t want you or Dolly to see.”
“Is it my present?”
“Yes,” I sigh.
“Then I’m going to need you to make me another one, and you already know what it is, so don’t ask.”
“I know. Lobster mac and cheese.”
“And don’t worry. I’ll make sure the door stays closed and I’ll watch Dolly like a hawk. I want to be surprised. Now, good-bye for the last time!”
—
Ma’s white Cadillac is parked in the driveway, right next to my Prius. She must’ve been on the road already and testing me to see if I’d try to stop her from coming. I get out of the taxi I took from the BART station, walk up the driveway, and ring the doorbell just to freak them out. I’m about to ring it again when Dolly slings it open. She’s wearing my white bathrobe and my red slippers!
“Hey, cuz!” she says, and wraps about two hundred pounds around me, enough to make me lose my balance. She grabs my hand and pulls me into the house. “Before you ask why I’m wearing your stuff, you won’t believe this, but I was so busy trying to make sure the boys had everything they needed that I forgot my suitcase. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll wash everything before we leave. Unless you wanna take your broke-ass cousin to the mall.”
And she laughs.
“She’s always broke,” Ma says. I realize she’s sitting on the sofa, reading a book,
even though I can hear the television blasting from the downstairs guest room.
“So you two must’ve flown.”
“Well, we just got here a little less than an hour ago, because Dolly Parton wanted to stop at Eagle Mountain to play the slots.”
“Did you win?” I ask, trying to sound like I care.
“Of course not. She never wins,” Ma says.
“That’s not true, and I don’t know why you’re saying ‘never,’ Aunt Earlene, like I go all the time, which I do not, because I don’t have no gambling money.”
“Is Frankie here?”
“I don’t think so. At first we thought you beat us here when we saw your car in the driveway.”
I just smile and walk across to her. “Hey, good-looking,” I say, and step down into the living room, bend over, and rope my arms around her. My mother is still beautiful. Her hair is bright white, her skin the color of ripe pecans and somehow still smooth; even her cheekbones are tight, which makes her look like she’s always about to smile.
“I hope she didn’t drop out of college because of this boy.”
“No, she’s just taking a little hiatus.”
“It’s always a dude,” Dolly says. “Even the smart ones will fuck over you, pardon my French.
“Why didn’t you drive your car to work?” Dolly asks.
I give her a look.
“Go check her room,” Ma says. “And your various voice mails. I doubt she’s up there.”
Of course she’s not. I run up to her room anyway to see if her designer luggage is still there. Unfortunately, it is. I dig inside my purse for my phone, and to my disbelief she’s left me a genuine voice message: “Hi, Mom. Hunter and I have come to terms and realize we’re still on the same team. We’re driving to Tahoe to spend a week or so at a small resort until we can figure out what to do next. Love you.”
A whole week? Does it take that long to figure anything out? And what’s she going to wear?
I call Estelle to see if she’s heard anything.
“She only shares good news with me to throw it in my face, so to answer your question, no, I haven’t heard from her.”
“Your grandma’s here. With your favorite third cousin.”
“I know. Hope I get to see them before they leave.”
“I’m concerned about Frankie, Estelle.”
“Don’t worry about her, Mom. Everyone always does. Just let her play this out.”
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