ONE WEDNESDAY, WILL HAD CALLED from his office to suggest they go to dinner. “Somewhere nice,” he said. “Just the adults.”
It occurred to Weezy that their children were now adults too, that there were really four adults living full-time in this house, soon to be six. But she didn’t say that.
“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s so much to do.” Really, the thought of washing her hair and finding something to wear out seemed overwhelming. But Will had insisted.
They’d gone to Pesce, a seafood restaurant that was a favorite of theirs. Usually it was saved for anniversaries or birthdays.
“Well, this is fancy,” Weezy said, when they pulled into the parking lot.
“I thought you deserved a nice night out,” Will said.
They walked in and were seated at a corner table. The restaurant was dark and the table had a small votive in the center, as if that would be enough to help people see. Will ordered a Scotch and Weezy ordered red wine. It came in an oversized glass, the kind that almost looks like a bucket, which pleased her. She took a few sips and felt the warmth in her chest and stomach.
“I’ve been worried about you,” Will said. “Because you’ve been so worried about everything. You’re going to collapse if you keep this up.”
Weezy sighed. “I have to worry. Just for a little while. Just until things settle down.”
Will nodded and tilted his glass to the left and right, causing the ice cubes to clink against one another. “You’re a fantastic mother,” he said. He raised his glass. “To you.”
He and Weezy clinked glasses and then took a sip. Weezy wanted to tell him how strange it was that she felt so energized lately. How for the past few years, she’d felt like there was nothing surprising to look forward to—that is, until Claire had gotten engaged, but then that had all gone to hell. Her children were mostly grown, they’d gone off to college, and she had just been waiting, stalled really, for the next stage of her life to start. And she thought that it was far away, many years down the line.
But then this had happened. And, of course, she was not pleased at first. Disappointed, really. Embarrassed, for sure. But once that went away, once she dealt with that, she was excited. She couldn’t admit that to herself for a long time, but it was the truth. She was needed again. Max needed her and Cleo needed her. She was useful. And there was going to be a baby.
She thought of how to explain this to Will, who was looking at her with a mix of concern and pity. He felt bad for her! He still thought she was the martyr who was putting everything aside to help their child. So she didn’t say anything except, “It’s what any mother would do.”
Will reached out and patted her hand, leaving his to rest on top for a few moments. “That’s not true,” he said. “It’s what you do. And so you deserve a night out.”
With that, he took his hand back and opened the menu. “Good God, can you see any of this?” He squinted and brought the menu close to his face, then picked up the votive and held it next to it. “I can’t see a thing!”
Weezy pulled the magnifying card that Will had given her a few years earlier out of her purse. It had lights on the side to help as well. He’d put it in her stocking as a surprise one Christmas, as a joke about their old age. But lately she’d really had to use it. It had become their custom for Weezy to look through her menu with it, reading aloud the things that she knew he’d like.
“Seared scallops with asparagus risotto,” she read. “Pecan-crusted tilapia, maple-glazed salmon.”
Will got the scallops, which she’d known he would. Weezy got the tilapia, which Will had guessed. They both ordered white wine with their dinners, and ate slowly. Will cut one of his scallops in half and deposited it on her plate with a scoop of the risotto. She did the same with her fish.
They even split a dessert, at Will’s insistence. “My diet is already shot,” he said. “So we might as well go all the way.” Will’s “diet” consisted of his complaining about his weight and spending a few days each month doing sit-ups in his office and trying to give up butter.
“This was a perfect night,” Weezy said as they left. Will had ordered a glass of port for each of them and they were both a little wobbly as they left the restaurant. Will had started slurring just the tiniest bit, and Weezy knew it probably wasn’t smart for them to drive home, but it was only a couple of miles.
She woke up in the middle of the night with a headache and stomach cramps and spent the next hour in the bathroom. Will came in at one point to get the antacids. The rich food and all that alcohol. Oh, what was she thinking? There was a time when that wouldn’t have bothered her one bit, when she would have slept peacefully through the night. But now? Well, now she was old. Practically a grandmother.
She thought of Will then, the way he’d said “just the adults” as if Claire and Martha were still little children they needed to escape from. She thought of the way that she’d passed Claire’s room the other night, seen Claire asleep on the bed, her mouth wide open, her arms around an ancient stuffed moose. How Will had said “Poor baby” to Martha. Her head pounded and her stomach threatened to revolt again. What was going on? She took two aspirin and drank a glass of water and tried to go back to bed.
THE NEXT WEEK, WEEZY TOLD MAX that she needed Cleo’s mother’s number. Enough was enough. She understood that families work things out in their own way, but Max and Cleo were not in any position to deal with things on their own. “Just have her tell her mother that I want to talk to her,” Weezy said.
She found she was nervous when dialing the number, and even more so when she heard someone else answer the phone. “Elizabeth Wolfe’s office.” Weezy identified herself and was put on hold. She wondered what Elizabeth would say, if she would even take the call. And just when she was beginning to think that she’d never get through, the line clicked.
“Am I ever glad to talk to you,” Elizabeth said.
“Oh! Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
On the other end of the phone, Elizabeth let out a breath, blowing straight into the receiver. “Can you believe this?” she asked. “Cleo is driving me absolutely insane.”
“I’ve said the same thing about Max every day since I found out.”
The two women laughed a little, and Weezy felt relieved. Elizabeth was just a mom after all. Weezy felt guilty for all the things she’d been saying about her, and even though there was no way Elizabeth could have known about them, she almost apologized. “I didn’t want to intrude,” she said. “I just thought we should talk.”
They made plans to meet that weekend for lunch. “I can take the train there,” Weezy said. “It’ll give me an excuse to do some shopping.”
The two women met at a restaurant on the Upper West Side, not far from Elizabeth’s apartment. “I can’t imagine raising a child here,” Weezy said. “I admire you for it. If I hadn’t been able to run mine like dogs outside, I think I might have gone crazy.”
Elizabeth just nodded, and Weezy was afraid she’d insulted her. “It really is admirable,” she said again. “Cleo’s a lovely girl.”
“A lovely pregnant girl,” Elizabeth said. Weezy looked up, embarrassed that the waiter was standing right there and had heard, but Elizabeth didn’t seem to care. She ordered a glass of wine and raised her eyebrows at Weezy, who nodded in agreement.
“I’m just so furious,” Elizabeth said.
“I know, I know.” Weezy found that Elizabeth’s anger made her want to be even more understanding.
The two women talked about what was to come, agreed that their children had no idea what to expect, but promised to help in any way they could.
“I’ve told Max they can move in with us after graduation.”
“That’s a very generous offer,” Elizabeth said.
“Of course, if you’d rather have Cleo here, I understand.”
“It’s really up to her. I doubt she’ll want to come back here.”
Weezy felt very sad for Cleo just then. If Martha
or Claire were pregnant and abandoned, she’d drag them back home whether they wanted it or not. She’d make sure they knew they had their mother for support; she’d be in their faces every day.
“You’re handling this all quite well,” Elizabeth said.
“I’m just handling it,” Weezy said. She tried to sound humble, but it actually came out sounding like she was bragging.
After lunch, Weezy wandered up Amsterdam, popping into some of the little boutiques. She was a little light-headed from the wine, but found it refreshing not to care who saw her. She ended up buying a ridiculously expensive pair of booties with giraffes on them. They were so tiny and perfect. She tucked them into her purse and went out to get a taxi back to the train station.
CHAPTER 16
This was what a psychotic break looked like. Claire was pretty sure of that. Sometimes, she wanted to stand up in the middle of the office, at dinner with her family, or while she was in Fran’s basement watching ESPN with him, and scream, “I am having a psychotic break, people. I am having a breakdown and no one is noticing.”
But that only happened if she let herself think about it, which she tried not to do most of the time. She found it was easier to ignore everything that was going on and just get through the day. She stayed busy. If she wasn’t at Fran’s watching a movie or drinking a beer, she was running around the neighborhood with her iPod on, sprinting down the dark streets in the cold until her chest was too tight to breathe and her legs hurt. Anything to make sure that when she got into bed that night, she’d fall asleep quickly.
AT HOME, THE AIR WAS FILLED with Max and Cleo. Weezy was acting like someone with a brain injury, sometimes slow and spacey, sometimes sharp and wild. The day after Thanksgiving, she’d told them the news in the kitchen, and although they’d already guessed, it was still a shock to hear.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Weezy said. She looked nervous, like they might have already spread the news around town.
“Of course not,” Martha said. “Oh my God, we won’t tell anyone.”
“People are going to find out eventually,” Claire said.
“I know that,” Weezy said. “But let’s just hold off. It’s no one else’s business.”
“People are so gossipy in this town,” Martha said. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Why are you crying?” Claire asked.
“They’re so young. How can they handle this?” Martha’s nose was running.
“Martha,” Claire said, “stop acting like you’re the one that’s knocked up.”
“Claire, that’s enough,” Weezy said. “This isn’t easy on your sister. This isn’t easy on any of us.”
“Why isn’t this easy for her?” Claire said. “What’s so hard about it? Just because you’re embarrassed doesn’t mean you can act like this is all about you.”
“This has nothing to do with being embarrassed,” Weezy said.
Martha looked up at the ceiling then, just as the tears poured down her cheeks. She let out a strange squeak and left the room quickly. Weezy turned to Claire with a look that said, Are you happy now?
“Jesus,” Claire said.
“It wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer to your sister.”
“It actually might.”
None of them spoke to one another for the rest of the day. Will looked like he wanted to get out of the house. He’d been angry in the morning, but by the afternoon, he looked exhausted. He and Weezy had been holed up in their bedroom having whispered conversations. Around dinnertime, Will tried to act normal, asking if anyone else was interested in warming up some leftovers, then going ahead and taking out the Tupperware containers and warming up the turkey, stuffing, and gravy until the whole house smelled like Thanksgiving again. He was the only one who ate.
They didn’t apologize to one another. That isn’t how they worked. The three of them were just short and chilly to one another for a few days, and then eventually it went away. Even Martha and Weezy spoke to each other with pursed lips and stilted conversation, although Claire was pretty sure they hadn’t been fighting with each other. It was like no one could keep track of who was mad at whom.
Even Ruby the dog was upset by the situation. She knew that everyone was out of sorts, and she spent her time walking up to each member of the family and licking them on the hand, as if to say, Don’t worry, it will all be fine. At the end of each day, she looked exhausted, lying on her green bed in the corner of the TV room, her head on her paws. Ruby had taken to eating her food quickly, like she was afraid someone was going to take it away from her if she paused or looked up.
“She’s not even chewing,” Claire pointed out. And it was true. The dog was just scarfing down her food, swallowing the pieces whole.
“Maybe she’s an emotional eater,” Martha said.
“A what?” Claire asked.
“An emotional eater,” Martha repeated. “You know, like she’s eating her feelings because she’s upset about Max.”
Both Weezy and Claire stood and stared at Martha without saying a word.
AFTER THANKSGIVING, MAX HAD TAKEN to calling Claire’s cell phone every day. “Just checking in,” he’d say.
“Things will get better,” Claire told him. She could think of nothing else to say.
“I can’t even imagine that right now,” Max said.
“Trust me. I know it seems bad, but in a few months it will be fine.”
“Months?”
“Just give it time.”
Claire convinced Max to come home for Christmas, telling him it would be worse if he didn’t. So he’d arrived with Cleo in tow, who still wasn’t talking to her mother and was so quiet that she didn’t even seem like the same person. All of Christmas was quiet, actually. They sat around reading books most of the time, which seemed to be the perfect activity since they could ignore each other and still pretend to be spending time together. Everyone took a lot of naps. And even Bets, who didn’t know that Cleo was pregnant yet, seemed to sense that something was off and was on unusually good behavior.
“Won’t your mother miss you?” she asked Cleo.
“Oh, no. She’ll be fine.”
One night, Claire got up and had a cigarette in the bathroom. She never would have dared if Bets hadn’t been there, but who was going to know the difference? She sat on the tile floor, her back against the wall, and smoked slowly, letting the cigarette burn down to her fingers. She sort of understood what it was that Bets liked about this. It was secret and solo. It was just one little thing that she had for herself. When she was done, she flushed the butt down the toilet and went back into Martha’s room and climbed into the twin bed.
“Did you just smoke in there?” Martha asked.
“No,” Claire said. “I didn’t.”
They all went to midnight mass on Christmas Eve, and came back home to have eggnog by the fire. Bets excused herself, telling everyone that it was well past her bedtime.
“I’m an old woman,” she said. “Practically on death’s door. I’m not cut out for this anymore.” She’d worn her best red suit, which seemed too big for her. Bets had always been tiny. “I barely eat,” she sometimes said. But now she was practically miniature. She seemed to be proof that old people really did shrink. It was a frightening thought.
The rest of them settled in the living room and Will started a fire. Claire was certain that they all wished they could go to bed like Bets had, but this was their tradition and they didn’t really have a choice.
Weezy poured everyone eggnog with a shot of whiskey, except for Cleo, of course. “This one’s a virgin,” she said, handing the glass to Cleo. Cleo blushed and took it. “Well, that’s an awful term, isn’t it?” Weezy asked. It was like everyone was trying to be as awkward as possible.
Claire even wished that Cathy was there with them. It would have been lovely to have someone to talk loudly and hog the conversation. But Maureen, Cathy, and Ruth had decided to visit Drew in California for Christmas. “We’re just in need of som
e sunshine,” Maureen had said. But that was a lie. Maureen just didn’t want to be anywhere near the Coffey house that Christmas. And really, who could blame her? She’d offered to come back and fly home with Bets on the twenty-seventh, which was her way of apologizing, and Weezy had seemed to accept it gladly.
Christmas morning, they opened their presents politely, thanking each other like they’d met not long ago; like they were acquaintances or office mates who were fond of each other. They balled up wrapping paper and threw it into a big black garbage bag that Will held open. Anytime someone made it in, Will would shout, “Two points for you!”
By the time they all sat down to eat ham at the table, their patience was thin and their small talk was bordering on nasty.
“Don’t take so many potatoes,” Martha told Max.
“Calm down, there’s plenty left for you, porky,” he said.
“I can’t believe any of you are hungry,” Bets said. “You all ate like pigs going to slaughter this morning. I can barely even imagine eating a meal right now.”
“I could use some help in the kitchen,” Weezy said.
“I’m right here, trying to help,” Will said.
“This ham looks really fatty,” Claire said.
Only Cleo remained almost completely silent. She was probably trying to will herself to be anywhere but there, thinking that no matter how much she was fighting with her own mom, this was worse. You could almost see her thoughts: There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.
Fran spent the holiday in Florida with his parents, and when he returned, he brought her a little tchotchke, a tiny stage with a group of stones with googly eyes and little guitars. Underneath the label said ROCK BAND. Claire took it and laughed.
The Smart One Page 26