The waiter arrived to take our orders. The poor man had been waiting forever, given all of our previous drama. Rose waved him away. I made a mental note to give him a big tip, since we were taking up so much of his time. By now, we should have been enjoying our main course; instead, we hadn’t even started eating.
“I’ve been invited to speak at a conference at a small university in California. The symposium is on a Friday, so I was hoping you could fly in that night, because the university is near Napa Valley. I thought it would be good for the two of us to have a weekend away together, before you’re pregnant.”
Sarah’s eyes softened.
“I’m sorry. I got the call last Thursday, when I was at one of my mom’s appointments. I totally spaced out about putting it on our calendar. It wasn’t until you mentioned the appointment that I even remembered the commitment. That would have been embarrassing—if I didn’t show up.” I coaxed her back around with a silly grin.
“Why didn’t you just spit it out, Lizzie?” asked Rose, too busy snapping her fingers at the poor server to bother waiting for my response. She was ready to eat, and she was fed up with me.
So Sarah could just spit out news about our medical appointments, but I couldn’t spill the news that Peter was getting married? I never knew how to act around Rose anymore. Sarah leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I heart you.”
Chapter Nine
The next day, I found Tiffany sitting at Mom’s bedside in the hospital. Mom was napping. I nodded hello, not wanting to disturb the patient.
“Hi!” Tiffany said.
Mom stirred, but her eyes didn’t budge.
Tiffany covered her mouth, realizing her blunder, and motioned for me to follow her out of the room.
“How’s she doing?” I asked, gesturing in my mother’s direction.
“Huh? Oh, fine. I was wondering if you wanted some coffee.” She leaned in conspiratorially, which annoyed me. We weren’t close, and I didn’t like the implication that we were. “I’m so bored. I’m falling asleep.”
Nice, Peter. Real nice gal you snagged this time. I didn’t want a coffee. But I did want to get rid of Tiffany for a few moments, so I sent her to get me a chai and a tea for my mom. I stressed that it should be herbal, with no caffeine.
“Sure thing. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She smiled at me as if I were a child enjoying a parade. Jesus! Did she even know where she was? I watched her lemon-yellow dress disappear around the corner, listening to the clip-clop of her three-inch wedge sandals. Why would anyone wear such preposterous shoes? I half hoped to hear her crashing to the ground.
Back in the room, I settled down in a chair by the bedside—the one Tiffany had just vacated. Mom and I weren’t close either, but I still felt I deserved the primo seat in her hospital room.
“Is she gone?” Mom whispered, only one eye open.
“For the moment. She’s on a coffee run.”
Mom harrumphed.
“How are you feeling?” I stood and bent to take her hand in mine, stopping just before I made an ass out of myself. I pictured her pulling her hand away, like a snapping turtle yanking its head back into its shell.
“I want out of here.”
“What did the doctor say? Can you leave soon?” I cursed the hope I could hear in my voice, afraid it would set Mom off.
She waved a bony hand in the air. “Everyone here is an idiot. I feel fine. I want to go home.” She pulled her blanket up to her chin, hiding. “I have a nurse at home. She can take care of me.”
Not knowing what to say, I went with, “It’s nice of Tiffany to keep you company.”
Mom rolled her eyes. There was no need to verbalize her thoughts; her body language said it all.
Was it possible that Peter had found a woman who irritated my mother more than I did?
The door sprang open with a bang, and Tiffany appeared. “Goodness, that door is light. I feel like Superman.”
For the first time, I noticed her toned arms. Did the woman spend all day in the gym? I wondered if she had a six-pack.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Tiffany thrust my chai in my face and then cheerfully presented the tea to my mother, as though offering a diamond ring. “I got you your fave—herbal tea.”
I wanted to punch her in the face. I was the one who told her to get the herbal tea, and I was shocked she had managed to remember that for five minutes.
“Thank you,” Mom said to me.
Tiffany was too busy being cheerful to notice that my mom had snubbed her. Something gave me the impression she missed a lot of things in life. Had she picked up on the fact that my brother was an arrogant ass who cheated? Maybe it was best if she didn’t know.
“So, what did I miss?” Tiffany plunked herself down on the chair opposite me and ripped the cover off her latte, a silly grin spreading over her face.
Mother sipped her tea angrily.
“Tiffany, where did you grow up?” I asked.
“Tie-Fannie,” she corrected.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” I put my hand up to emphasize my apology. “Where did you grow up?” I didn’t bother saying her name correctly. I swore right then and there that I would never call Tiffany by her name ever again; instead, I’d just say, “Hey you.”
I enjoyed seeing my mother’s scornful frown from behind the cup of herbal tea, mocking the girl.
I should send Peter a thank-you note. Usually, my mother ridiculed me.
“Right here, but I’ve traveled all over the world.”
“Really? Where have you been?”
“So many countries: Mexico, Bermuda, the Caribbean, Puerto Rico, and…Hawaii.” She counted each one on her right hand, a glint of pride in her face.
I wanted to correct her, to tell her that Hawaii was actually a part of the States, and that one could make an argument about Puerto Rico, too, even if I was sure the people there felt differently. The puppy dog look on her face told me I’d be wasting my time.
I tried a different approach. “Did Peter take you to these places?”
“Oh no. He’s been so busy lately.”
I was pretty sure I knew why: he’d been busy avoiding her and being with other women.
“I went to all those places for spring break.” Tiffany’s emphasis was an obvious effort to make herself sound as well traveled as Marco Polo.
“What university did you go to?”
She cocked her head, eying me suspiciously. “College? I didn’t go to college.”
“Sorry, I just assumed…since you said spring break.” A sip of chai helped force my laugh back down my throat. Where in the world did Peter find this clueless child?
“My family always goes away each spring. My brothers are in college, so we work around their spring breaks. I considered going to college.” She shook her head, giving me the impression she thought it unladylike to seek higher education.
“I see.”
I looked to my mother for help, hoping she would say something that might nip all chatter in the bud—she had such a knack for doing that—but instead, she stared at Tiffany with her mouth slightly agape.
“Peter said you went to college,” she said. Tiffany tried her best to erase the disgust from her face. “And that’s why…why you aren’t around much.” A blush flashed across her face like a lightning bolt.
I could tell she wasn’t an experienced liar. It took her some effort to recover from her gaffe. Had Peter told her college turned me into a lesbian? A woman allowed to think for herself apparently led to independence—and lesbianism.
“Yes, I did. I have a PhD in history.”
“What’s that?”
“A doctorate in history.” From the expression on Tiffany’s face, I knew I wasn’t getting through to her. “I’m a doctor.”
“Oh, do you work here?” She waved to the room.
“Nope. Different kind of doctor.”
For a brief moment, I got the feelin
g that my mom was proud of me. Here I was talking to Peter’s fiancée, who was dumber than a post, and I could say I was a doctor. Too bad Mom couldn’t gloat about this at the club.
“She studies Nazis,” Mom offered, her voice betraying no emotion.
Was she proud? Or had I imagined it?
“I’ve heard of Mengele. Are you a doctor like that?” Tiffany looked hopeful.
Mengele! Did she just ask me if I was a twisted fuck who tortured people in concentration camps?
The blank look on her face suggested she didn’t even know it was an insult.
What was it like in her head?
“No. Not at all.” I leaned down and pulled a box out of my messenger bag, which sat on the floor. “I got you this, Mom. It’s a Kindle. Not only can you read books on it, but you can also listen to books as well.” I handed it to her.
A couple of weeks ago, my mother had handed me a note that requested certain titles. I noticed that some of the books were by authors I had already given to her. Sarah and Ethan had done a great job. Her chicken-scratch handwriting was so wobbly and difficult to decipher that, for some reason, it upset me. The fact that it was scrawled with a purple pen disturbed me. Purple and The Scotch-lady? How did I not know she liked purple?
To my surprise, Mom opened the box with a hint of glee. I showed her how to turn the Kindle on. “It’s connected to the Internet as well, so you can email and stuff. And when you want to shop”—I pointed to the shop button at the top—“all you have to do is search for any book you want and click buy. It downloads within seconds. It holds hundreds of books.” I neglected to tell her that I had my credit card hooked up to her account.
“Hundreds! Who wants to read that many books?” Tiffany slurped her latte. “I tried reading that book everyone was raving about years ago—Eat, Pray, Live, or something like that—and couldn’t get through the first ten pages. Hundreds? I don’t know if I’ve met anyone who’s read that many books. Even the Julia Roberts movie based on that book bored me.” Tiffany snatched the device out of Mom’s brittle hands. “Oh, it has apps like my cell phone. Does it have Angry Birds? Now that’s something worth having.”
Mom cleared her throat and motioned for Tiffany to hand the Kindle back. The clueless woman did not realize that my mother was completely unimpressed with Angry Birds.
Mom turned to me. “Will you read to me, Lizzie?”
“I thought you said that it would read to her,” Tiffany said to me. Then turned to Mom. “Why make Lizzie waste her time?”
“Lizzie has a nice reading voice. Must be from all her years teaching at a university.” She eyed Tiffany. Was she trying to decide whether Peter’s fiancée understood her meaning?
“What would you like me to read?” I asked, trying not to enjoy the moment too much. Maybe I should send Peter a basket of cookies to thank him, not just a card.
“Eat, Pray, Love,” snapped my mother.
I busied myself with the Kindle, downloading the book and watching Tiffany out of the corner of my eye. It took her less time to make a decision than I thought it would.
“You know, I told Peter I’d meet him for lunch. I better head out.” She threw her purse over her shoulder. She held the door handle and spoke over her shoulder, “Enjoy the book. Um, it’s really…interesting.”
And the ditz in yellow was gone.
Chapter Ten
A young woman sat at my kitchen table, wide-eyed, while I puttered around getting some snacks ready.
“Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Water?” I mimed etcetera with my hand.
“Tea would be great.” She pulled a couple of notebooks from her over-stuffed backpack.
“Sure, I’ll put the kettle on. So, where did you complete your undergrad?” I asked as I filled the kettle.
“University of Puget Sound.” She doodled on her notepad, patiently waiting.
Steam spewed out of the kettle, and I lifted it off the burner before it had a chance to scream.
Setting the teacups down, I said, “All right, why don’t you tell me about your thesis?”
Hours later, I heard Sarah walk through the front door. “I’m home,” she shouted.
“In the kitchen.”
My companion looked at her watch. “Goodness! Look at the time.” She gathered her notebooks and started to shove them into her bag, struggling to cram everything back in.
“You won’t fucking believe what I heard today at work!” Sarah sashayed into the kitchen and then stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”
My guest looked nervous, which made me smile. When I was her age, everything made me jumpy. And the first week of the school semester always made me jumpier.
“Sarah, I’d like you to meet Jasmine.” I motioned to the awkward but stunning graduate student.
“I’ve heard all about you.” Jasmine put her hand out.
Sarah shook Jasmine’s hand as if she wanted to crush it, which surprised me a little. Her eyes suggested she would rather throw the woman out of the house than greet her. Sarah must have had a bad day, I figured, but it was only the third day back after the summer vacation, which didn’t bode well for the rest of the year.
Ignoring Sarah for a moment, I turned to Jasmine. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
My wife followed me so closely I could feel her angry breath on my neck, making Jasmine jumpier. “Call me if you need any help, day or night,” I said.
“Thanks,” Jasmine said. “Thanks for everything. Nice meeting you, Sarah,” she added in a shaky voice.
Sarah popped her head over my shoulder, and Jasmine started as if she’d had a heart attack. “You too, Jasmine.”
I cringed at Sarah’s pronunciation.
After I shut the front door, I turned around to face Sarah. Arms crossed, she was tapping one foot expectantly. “What was that about?” she demanded.
“What was what about: your rudeness to my guest?”
“My rudeness?” She placed a hand over her heart. “How would you feel if you walked in while I was entertaining a sexy young woman?”
“Entertaining…?” I had to laugh. “Sarah—”
“I don’t see anything funny about this.” Her angry tone increased with each word she spewed.
“What are you insinuating? That I slept with Jasmine and then, just for shits and giggles, made her several cups of tea so she’d still be here when you got home—at your usual time?” I pinned her with a look of disgust. “You think that lowly of me?”
Sarah just grunted. Her scrunched forehead and bunched shoulders suggested she wasn’t willing to let the accusation die just yet.
“Tell me, Sarah, what do you think I did?” I bottled up my fury, stopping it from slipping into my tone.
“Jasmine is a very beautiful woman,” she sputtered.
“Yes. I’d noticed that.” I flashed my “so what?” expression.
Sarah’s expression opened out—an aha moment. I could tell she was thinking that if I’d noticed Jasmine’s looks, I must have acted on it.
“And so…that means I fucked her?”
At the word fuck, Sarah cringed.
I stormed back into the kitchen to prepare another cup of tea. I didn’t really want one, but I needed to stay busy. I didn’t want to think. I concentrated on the clicking of the gas burner, and then on the catch of the flame. Next, I grabbed two cups and spooned sugar in each, ignoring Sarah’s sugar ban. Not having anything else to do to keep my fingers busy while the water boiled, I started to count to ten.
Sarah watched my every move.
Finally, she said, “Well, why was she here, in our home?”
I wasn’t ready to let her off the hook yet, even if that little voice in my head said I should.
This isn’t worth the fight. Just let it go, Lizzie.
“So, you think that with everything I have going on in my life—my mom, us trying to get preg
nant, my research project—you think I have the time, let alone the energy, to have an affair. And you also think I’m either stupid enough or vindictive enough to let you walk in on it.” I glared at her, ignoring the whistling kettle; steam rose from it, blurring my vision of Sarah, who stood on the opposite side of the island, near the stovetop.
“You still don’t trust me, not after a year of couple’s therapy and three years of individual therapy for me.”
Sarah sighed, and all the tension left her shoulders. Sadness and guilt filled the void. “Lizzie—”
I put up my hand to silence her words, and then I turned off the burner.
“I’ll play by your rules, Sarah. Do you remember Dr. Marcel, my mentor in grad school? That was one of his students. He asked me to help with her dissertation. You do remember Dr. Marcel, don’t you? We’ve had dinner at his home on several occasions. Jasmine is researching growing up in the Third Reich, which happens to be my specialty.” Part of me wanted to give my wife a reassuring hug. But the other part felt betrayed. “Did you think…?” I couldn’t complete my accusation.
Her eyes widened. If we’d been in a cartoon, a light bulb would have gone off over her head. “Oh, I remember you mentioning that.” She looked down at the island bench, guiltily. “I didn’t expect a history PhD student to be named Jasmine.”
“So if she was named Gertrude, you wouldn’t have thought I was having an affair?” It was my turn to cross my arms over my chest.
“Not if she looked the exact opposite of Jasmine.” Sarah’s tone was tinged with culpability, but she flashed an award-winning smile to cover it.
“Jesus, Sarah! I’m not Peter. That girl is just a child. When I first met her, I couldn’t help but remember when I started my PhD program. I don’t remember being that young, looking that young. And I also thought thank God I’m not anymore. I’m in a much happier place now, here with you.”
That softened Sarah up some. “What did she mean when she said she’d heard all about me?”
I huffed, annoyed. “We got to talking about our partners, and how lucky we are that we both have supportive people in our lives. Jasmine’s fiancé moved here from Seattle. She was rushing off to be with him.”
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