The Rooftop Party

by Ellen Meister

  “Like at weddings?” he asked.

  “Yeah, like at weddings.”

  “I cry when I get hurt,” he said. “Or when I’m really, really mad.” He wrinkled his brow, and Dana could tell he was picking at a memory.

  “What gets you really, really mad?” She brushed some hair from his soft, pale forehead.

  “Do you know Jonah?”

  She shook her head. “Is he your friend? Like Harper?”

  “He lives next door to Harper. His mom lets him eat Hershey’s Kisses after lunch. Just two.” He held up his fingers to illustrate. “That’s the rule.”

  “Good rule,” she observed.

  “I went there after soccer, and his mom gave two to Jonah and two to me. Guess what he did.”

  “He took one of your Kisses?”

  “How did you know?”

  She sighed, thinking about her history with men before Ari. “I dated Jonah in another life.”

  He ignored her and continued. “I took the silver off, and before I could eat it he just put it right in his mouth! Can you believe it?” His expression was so earnest, so incredulous, it broke her heart. He couldn’t fathom the betrayal.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” she said, then asked if they were still friends.

  He looked surprised by the question. “We always make up, Aunt Dana.”

  She went back to reading and soon the lessons about death began, as Wilbur learned that his new friend, Charlotte the spider, lived by killing flies and drinking their blood. And the reader learned that Wilbur was scheduled for slaughter. Dana glanced at Wesley to see how he was receiving this news. He was rapt but unfazed. She continued reading, and toward the end, as Charlotte the spider was dying, Wilbur asked why she had done so much for him when he had done nothing for her. Her reply was simple. He had been her friend.

  At that, a wave of sorrow crashed and broke. Dana had not been a good friend to Ari. She had betrayed his trust. She was more like Jonah than Wilbur, only what she had done was unforgivable. She deserved all this misery.

  Dana took a steadying breath, and relied on her acting skill to keep her voice even as she finished reading the book, barely listening to the words she spoke. If the agony showed in her face, Wesley was too engrossed in the story to notice.

  “Can you read it again tomorrow?” he asked when she was finished.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “If I’m not too tired.” She told him to go see if his mom needed any help. Then Dana burrowed under the covers and fell asleep.

  She was awoken a few hours later, aware that the house was buzzing with guests. Chelsea appeared at the open doorway of the room and Dana bolted up, alarmed. She had been dreaming about Ari, and her semiconscious mind leapt to an illogical thought. Had Ari come? Was it possible? Had he decided to surprise her and show up, full of forgiveness and Thanksgiving?

  “You okay?” Chelsea said.

  Dana’s heart raced. “I... I was in a deep sleep.”

  “Dad and Jennifer are here,” Chelsea announced.

  “Is that it?”

  “My in-laws, my friends from Atlanta, the Wassermans with their little girl. We’re still waiting for Bill and Jan.”

  Of course, Dana thought. Of course Ari isn’t here. It had been a dream. She let her head fall back on the pillow. “I think I’m just going to sleep through Thanksgiving,” she said.

  “Like hell you are.”

  “It’s too much for me, Chelse.”

  “Then go through the motions. Play the part of someone who gives a shit.”

  “You’re mad,” Dana observed.

  “My patience is wearing thin.”

  Of course it is, Dana thought. All week, her big sister had been placating her. Still, everything was so overwhelming. And Dana didn’t feel like facing anyone, especially her father.

  “No one will miss me,” she said.

  “Of course they’ll miss you. It’s Thanksgiving. Now get up and brush your hair. Put on that purple sweater dress that looks so good on you.”

  Dana sighed. She knew there was no use fighting it, so she did as her sister asked.

  When she emerged from the guest bedroom on her crutches, Dana was bombarded with attention. Chelsea’s father-in-law—an affable man with a pleasant smile, a bald head and a teal sweater he had probably received as a gift sometime in the 1990s—leapt from the easy chair and insisted she sit down. Someone put a plate of hors d’oeuvres in her lap. And then the questions started. How did she feel? When would the cast come off? What was it like working at the Shopping Channel? Did she ever get recognized on the street? Was Vanessa Valdes as nice in person as she seemed on TV?

  Brandon’s tiny nonagenarian grandmother—who somehow seemed even smaller than last year, as if aging were an act of disappearing—pulled on Chelsea’s sleeve.

  “Who is that pretty girl? Is she an actress or something?” The old bird wore a vintage Chanel jacket that threatened to swallow her whole.

  “That’s my sister, Dana,” Chelsea said loudly, over-enunciating each syllable. “You remember her, don’t you?”

  “She’s the one who always went around with such terrible men.”

  “I’m done with all that, Mrs. Schiff,” Dana said.

  “Men like that only want one thing,” said the old woman, wagging a finger. “You know what that is?”

  “I have a pretty good idea,” Dana said.

  “In my day we called it hoochie-coochie. Now they say pussy.”

  “Pussy?” Wesley asked.

  He was sitting on the floor with a six-year-old girl in patterned leggings. She looked up from her coloring book. “I think they’re talking about vaginas.”

  The girl’s mother jumped in to change the subject. “Didn’t I read the Shopping Channel might switch from fashion to electronics?”

  “Looks like we dodged that bullet,” Dana said.

  “And all because of my little sister,” Chelsea said, coming up behind her. She put her hands on Dana’s shoulders. “She got the idea to sell a skin care line, and then went on the air with a broken ankle and saved the day.”

  “Don’t give me too much credit,” Dana said. “I wasn’t the first one with the skin care idea.”

  “I saw you that day!” Chelsea’s friend gushed. “I couldn’t believe you powered through that injury. You must have been in agony.”

  “It was pretty bad,” Dana admitted.

  “Damned foolish,” said her father, who sat nearby with Jennifer. “She could have done permanent damage.”

  Dana gritted her teeth, and Chelsea gave her tensed shoulders a squeeze.

  “We’re all so proud of you, sis,” she said.

  “All might be a bit of a reach,” Dana corrected, nodding toward their father. “But I appreciate your support.”

  “I’m sure your father is proud of you,” said Chelsea’s father-in-law. “Aren’t you, Ken?”

  “She’s come a long way,” he conceded.

  “That’s about as much as I’ll ever get from my dad,” Dana said.

  “It’s a compliment,” Kenneth insisted. “Everyone wants to improve. Am I right?”

  He said it as if he expected everyone in the room to rally round, but his comment was met with uncomfortable silence. It was almost as if they preferred talking about pussies.

  “Why don’t we move to the table?” Chelsea said. “I’m sure everyone is hungry.”

  Dana got up on her crutches and moved with the crowd to the dining room. Normally, she would have been among Chelsea’s worker bees, getting the table set and ready. But today, that was impossible, and so the impact of the room took her by surprise. The soft amber lighting was perfect, and the table was beautifully set with rustic colors and a centerpiece of fire lilies, sunflowers, peach roses and other autumn-colored blooms in a pumpkin planter. Flickerin
g candles of assorted heights completed the look. Dana had to hand it to her sister—she had an impeccable eye. Even the hand-lettered place cards, decorated with colorful turkeys stamped from Wesley’s thumbprints, were charming. Dana wondered if there was one with Ari’s name on it in the bottom of the trash bin.

  As the dishes were passed around and everyone filled their plates, Dana retreated into herself. It was easy, as conversations buzzed around the table and attention scattered. For the past several days, she had managed to keep her mind off Ari, and to forget her memory about the night of the murder. But now, both her crushing sadness and her crippling anxiety bubbled up from the muck of sublimation, threatening to pull her under.

  Dana pushed food around her plate as she wondered how she would get through this meal. Or worse, the days that followed.

  Almost reading her mind, Brandon’s father elbowed her and asked, “Are you still seeing that police detective?”

  “She’s seeing a police detective?” asked old Mrs. Schiff. “Good for her.”

  “Actually, we broke up recently.” The words sent ripples of goose bumps down her body. It was the first time she had said it out loud.

  Her father put down his knife. “What?” he said. “How come I didn’t know about this?”

  “Didn’t you wonder why he wasn’t here?” Dana asked.

  “Your sister told me he was working.”

  Chelsea gave a sheepish shrug. “He might be working.”

  “What happened?” Kenneth demanded.

  “That’s none of your business, Dad.”

  “I thought you two were moving in together. Now what are you going to do?”

  “You just heard Chelsea say I saved the company. You really think I can’t make a living and pay my own rent without a man?”

  “Don’t twist my words,” he said. “Manhattan is expensive. I’m sure that lease you signed is unaffordable.”

  “It’s not unaffordable. I told you that.”

  “But you still didn’t tell me what happened with Ari.”

  “I screwed up, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m a complete fuckup. Every time something good happens in my life I sabotage it. So I betrayed Ari’s trust and he got pissed off and he walked out, and I spent the next forty-eight hours stoned and drunk, until Megan picked me up and shipped me off to my sister’s house so I could have a perfectly classic nervous breakdown. But the icing on the cake? That’s you. Judging me. As always.” Dana stopped, aware that the room had gone quiet, and everyone was looking at her.

  “That’s because you never learn,” her father said.

  “You know what? You’re right. I don’t. Because no matter what you do, I keep thinking that one day...” Dana paused to swallow against a gourd-sized lump in her throat. “One day, you’ll stop thinking of me as a loser, and maybe, just maybe, offer me a crumb of support. A grain of pride. I can never seem to learn that one simple lesson. But guess what, Dad? I’m done. I no longer give a shit what you think of me.”

  With that, Dana hobbled back to the guest room, packed her bags, called an Uber and left.

  33

  “It is so great to see you back!” Ashlee said, when Dana showed up for work on Monday.

  She held open the dressing room door and Dana—by now an expert on crutches—maneuvered her way to the couch and sat. She was glad to be back, too, determined to steer this ship. She wasn’t the loser her father thought she was. Sure, she had made mistakes, but it wasn’t too late to set her course. She could sell her heart out and make sure the Shopping Channel never again teetered on the brink. Dana knew she was damned good at it, and no one could take that from her.

  Also, she could find Margaux the bartender and prove to herself, once and for all, that she didn’t murder Ivan.

  Then, she could fix things with Ari. For now, of course, she had to keep her distance to protect his career. Finding the bartender was her first step. Once Dana knew she was innocent, she could go back to Ari and apologize, beg his forgiveness for her betrayal. That was the only part where her confidence got shaky. She couldn’t even manage any creative visualization. Because no matter how many times Dana tried to play it out in her mind, she couldn’t get to the point where he accepted her apology and they fell into each other’s arms. The scene didn’t work, because deep down she knew she didn’t deserve his forgiveness. But she would try. And if she failed, at least she would make peace with her mistake. Learn from it and move on. Dana wanted to become the kind of person who wouldn’t betray the trust of someone who loved her.

  Of course, it could all turn out the other way. Margaux might say that yes, she had heard Dana fighting with Ivan by the roof’s ledge—and that it was just before the lights went out. If that was the case, well. She couldn’t think about it. She needed to focus on the positive.

  And also, she needed to come to grips with the reality that she would be moving very soon. Dana had arranged for a one-month overlap with her current apartment and her new one. That meant she would officially take possession of the new place on December 1, and would need to move out of her old one by January 1. It still didn’t seem real to her. But cognitive dissonance or not, she would need to spend the next few weeks staring at paint chips and choosing furniture.

  Ashlee sat across from her and they swapped stories about their Thanksgivings. Dana kept hers brief. Ashlee had gone home to Tennessee, and went into colorful detail about her big, noisy, loving family.

  “Sounds like you grew up in a Norman Rockwell painting,” Dana said.

  “The supersized version. With beer and wrestlin’.”

  Dana nodded. It was time to broach the subject she had been thinking about. “That day in my apartment,” she began. “You said you had an idea for tracking down Margaux.”

  “I sure do,” Ashlee said, digging her cell phone from her pocket. “You still have the phone number for that caterer?”

  That was the idea? Calling the caterer again? Dana sighed, deflated. “What makes you think you’ll be any more successful than I was?”

  Ashlee clucked. “Bless your heart,” she said, “but I been thinkin’ on it, and decided you went about that all wrong.”

  “Trust me,” Dana said, “they’re not going to give out her last name.”

  “I didn’t say they would.”

  “So what are you suggesting?” Dana asked.

  “I suggest you let a Southern girl pour on a little charm.”

  Dana shook her head. Clearly, Ashlee had something up her sleeve. But Dana wasn’t sure it was right to let the girl get more involved in her mess. She had already asked so much of her.

  “I don’t know, Ashlee,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t think it’s fair to put you in this position.”

  “Fair?” Ashlee put a hand to her heart, offended. “No ma’am—you don’t decide what’s fair for me. This is something I want to do.”

  She was so imperious Dana could only smile. “You sure you want to get involved in this?”

  “I enjoy using what the good lord gave me. Now let’s get on with it.”

  And so they did. Dana read off the number for Garden of Stephen, and Ashlee punched it into her phone. She put the call on speaker.

  “Hey!” she said in her cheeriest pageant voice when the receptionist answered. Dana had never imagined anyone could pack so much Tennessee into a single syllable, but this girl had managed it. “My name’s Ashlee St. Pierre and I got your number as one of the best caterers in New York City. Is that true?”

  The woman laughed. Clearly, she was charmed. “We like to think so.”

  “Great!” Ashlee chirped. “I am in New York for one little old week before I go on home, but I’m coming back next year to get married. My mother-in-law-to-be wants to use her own caterer and I don’t trust that woman’s judgment. She squeezes a quarter s
o tight the eagle screams, and I think she’s bargain hunting for my wedding. Can you imagine such a thing?”

  “I guess not,” the woman said.

  “So I was wonderin’ if there was any chance I could sample your food and services before I leave town.”

  Dana held her breath. She was in awe. Ashlee poured it on thicker than she could have imagined. Dana wished she had recorded this—it would come in handy if she ever needed to study a Tennessee accent for a part.

  “Just hang on one second and let me see if we can accommodate you,” the woman said.

  Ashlee flashed her proudest smile at Dana.

  “You’re amazing,” Dana said in a whisper, even though the hold music was playing.

  The woman got back on the phone. “Any chance you’re free tonight? We’re catering an art gallery event downtown and I can put your name on the list.”

  “Well, aren’t you the sweetest thing!” Ashlee cooed. “Can I assume that event is fully staffed? I’d also love to see what kind of service y’all provide.”

  The woman assured her it was, and Ashlee asked her to hold on. She took the phone off speaker and whispered to Dana, “How well do you get around on those things?” She nodded toward the crutches.

  “Pretty well now.”

  Ashlee nodded and put the phone back on speaker.

  “Okay if I bring my future sister-in-law along? She’s so sophisticated. Knows the subways like a worm knows dirt. I don’t know what I’d do in this big city without her.”

  “Yes, of course,” the woman said, and provided all the relevant information for the event. Ashlee thanked her, said goodbye and ended the call.

  Dana looked at her impressive new assistant and found herself choked with gratitude. “Ashlee, I—”

  “Oh, hush,” the girl interrupted. “Never you mind. Let’s just get you ready for your show.”

  “But I have something to say.”

  Ashlee put her hands on her hips. “Alright, then. Out with it.”

  The crutches made her unsteady, but Dana moved in for an awkward, one-armed hug. “Bless your heart,” she said.