10A. The Parents #2
Did Vikram feel vindicated when Davi reacted to Saylem’s presence exactly the way he had feared—with visceral disgust, confusion, and finally anger, expressed by slamming doors and chopping off her beautiful long hair?
He did not; he felt only guilty and complicit.
He longed to pull Davi aside and explain that this was all her mother’s doing, but he and Ruby vowed long ago to present a united front where Davi was concerned.
And so, he told her a lie about Saylem bringing a much-needed boost to their creativity.
He offered to fly to America to accompany Davi back to school but she said no thank you, she’d prefer to go alone.
Vik booked her a first-class ticket to Boston and arranged for car service to transport her to Tiffin.
He even instructed her driver to make a stop at Chick-fil-A because this, Vik knew, was her American favorite.
By the time Family Weekend rolled around, Ruby and Saylem were inseparable—but even so, there was no universe in which Saylem would accompany them to Massachusetts.
Except yes, apparently, she would.
“Are you mad ?” Vikram asked Ruby. “What are we going to tell people?”
“We’ll tell them she’s our creative director,” Ruby said.
Vik supposed he should be relieved that Ruby agreed to a cover story. He’d feared she would simply say to the other Tiffin parents, “This is Saylem, our lover. We’re polyamorous.”
He insisted that Ruby be the one to tell Davi that Saylem was coming, which she did from the insulated comfort of their Mercedes.
Vikram opened the garage door to see Ruby in the car with her head pressed back against the rest, eyes closed as she talked, as though willing herself to remain calm.
When Ruby opened her eyes and saw Vik watching her, she waved him away.
“How did it go?” Vik asked later.
“Poorly,” Ruby admitted. “But please don’t forget, Vik. We’re the parents and she’s the child.”
As much as Vik dreads the weekend, it ends up being fine.
Davi greets Saylem with a formal handshake and a Good to see you again, and then they proceed to lie to everyone they meet about Saylem being OOO’s new creative director.
In years past, Ruby had been secretly disdainful about how bucolic and “quaint” western Massachusetts is.
(“Not a bottle of Dom Pérignon within two hundred miles of here,” she’d said, probably accurately.) But this year, with Saylem in tow, Ruby delights in the foliage, the equestrian-themed needlepoint kneelers in the chapel, the boisterous cheering at the American football game (a sport Ruby doesn’t understand, but when Saylem tells them that she’s a “Cincinnati Bengals fan,” Ruby pretends to know what that means).
Vik doesn’t care about Ruby and Saylem. (He booked two rooms at a local inn and sleeps in the second room alone.) He cares only about Davi.
Her grades are, by all accounts, good, she’s surrounded by friends at all times—the other girls stick to her like lint to a sweater—and she even takes a selfie with Vik in front of the student union and posts it to her Instagram stories.
(There are no pictures, nor is there any mention, of Ruby or Saylem.)
But did Davi seem… happy? She’d lost her closest friend the spring before. Back then, both Vikram and Ruby were keenly attuned to Davi’s moods. They asked if she wanted to see a therapist but she declined; she preferred to sort it out on her own.
Now, however, Vik notices that the light in Davi’s eyes has dimmed—or perhaps just changed. It isn’t genuine, he can tell.
He informs Ruby that he’s going to attend the seminar called Your Child’s Mental Health, a conversation facilitated by the school chaplain.
“What on earth for ?” Ruby says.
How can Vik explain? He knows there’s something wrong with Davi and he suspects it’s their fault.
“Doesn’t she look… thin to you?” he says. “And off-color?”
“She’ll kill you if you go to that seminar,” Ruby says. “Everyone will think she’s unwell. That’s the last thing she wants.”
Vik has to admit this is probably true.
“I think she looks amazing, ” Saylem says, and it takes enormous willpower for Vik not to snap, You don’t get a say when it comes to our daughter, sorry. “And she’s been eating. She has an impressive appetite.”
Vik wonders if he’s worrying about nothing. Davi has been eating. She does have an impressive appetite.
Family Weekend Steakhouse Menu
Friday, October 17
Popovers, Parker House rolls, freshly churned butter
STARTERS
Colossal shrimp cocktail with three sauces
SALAD
Spinach salad with cherry tomatoes, warm bacon dressing or buttermilk ranch
ENTRéES
Grilled rib eyes or cauliflower steaks, béarnaise or green peppercorn sauce
SIDES
Jacket potatoes, thick-cut onion rings, roasted asparagus, sautéed brussels sprouts
DESSERTS
Coconut cream pie, seven-layer chocolate cake
Fran Hicks, Mother of Charley
When Fran tells Joey that Charley is drawing a line in the sand—she won’t see Fran unless Joey leaves—Joey handles it with unexpected maturity.
He says he’ll go back to the hotel (a Hampton Inn fifteen minutes south) and hit a Mickey D’s on the way, and then when Fran is ready, he’ll come back and pick her up.
Fran kisses him, grabbing the back of his newly shorn head.
This haircut makes him look ten times as handsome, and apparently the female population of Tiffin agrees with her.
Within seconds of entering the tent, Fran and Joey were surrounded by pretty young faces attached to nubile bodies clad in cropped sweaters and tight skirts.
Were these friends of Charley’s? It didn’t seem so; one girl said she knew Charley from “around the dorm,” and another said “she reads a lot.” The girls, Fran realized, were hanging in their orbit because of Joey; one willowy blond girl asked if Joey was Fran’s son.
Instead of slapping her, Fran offered a tight smile and said, “Husband, actually.”
“Thank you,” Fran says to Joey now, “for understanding.” She doesn’t remind him that this is why she begged him to stay in Baltimore.
“It’s chill.” His good mood is due, she’s certain, to his newfound popularity.
At the steak dinner, Fran and Charley sit alone at the end of one of the long tables.
The family next to them has a third-form son whom Charley doesn’t know and also two daughters aged eight and ten, who are seated next to Fran and Charley.
It’s a bit awkward—they’re isolated but not alone, so Fran doesn’t have a chance to find out how Charley is really doing.
She asks about Charley’s participation in the school newspaper and Charley says, “I don’t participate.
The editor is a direct descendant of Mussolini. ”
Fran laughs. “Will I be able to read—”
“Absolutely not,” Charley says, and before Fran can react to having her head bitten off, a gentleman approaches the table, hand outstretched.
“You must be Charley’s mother,” he says.
“I’m Rhode Rivera, Charley’s English teacher.
” Mr. Rivera then goes on and on about how, when he accepted this job—he was a Tiffin alum himself, Class of 2003—he dreamed of having students like Charley, kids who are eager to engage with the material, kids with natural curiosity, kids who are motivated enough to do the extra reading. Charley is a superstar, he says.
Fran’s happy to hear this. She wasn’t sure Charley would continue to stand out once she got to Tiffin. Fran’s main argument for Charley staying home was big fish–small pond (appropriate for Fran, who knew a thing or two about ponds, haha). Charley is now a big fish in a more elite pond.
Mr. Rivera turns his attention to Charley, who is intent on scraping the inside of her baked potato skin clean. “Have you seen East?” he asks.
Charley’s head snaps up. “East? No.”
Mr. Rivera gazes over the rows of tables where, Fran notices, people are much more convivial; by comparison, she and Charley look like they’re awaiting dental surgery. “What about Miss Bergeron? Neither of them were at the reception.”
“I didn’t notice,” Charley says.
“Oh, there’s Simone,” Mr. Rivera says. He turns to Fran. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Excused,” Fran says. “It was a pleasure…” But Mr. Rivera is on the move.
An instant later, he’s replaced by the same blond girl who asked the obnoxious question about Joey.
“Where’s your stepdaddy?” she asks Charley. “Did he leave?”
“He did,” Charley says. “You’re free to go back to scheming Royce.”
“Awesome,” the girl says. “And you can scheme your fifth-form repeat. Hmmm, wonder who that could be?”
“For the record, Tilly,” Charley says, “I didn’t write that list. Ravenna did.”
“For the record,” Tilly says, “you should just pretend you wrote it. It’ll make you seem normal. More normal, anyway.”
As Tilly walks off, Fran regrets not slapping her earlier like she wanted to. “Who is that?”
“No one you need to worry about,” Charley says, frowning. “Do you mind if we skip dessert? I’d like to call it a night.”
“Oh,” Fran says. “Okay?” She peeks down the table at the decadent wedges of chocolate cake and decides she’ll take a piece to go, for Joey. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“I have zero interest in the football game,” Charley says. “But we can go out to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Wonderful!” Fran says.
“As long as you’re alone,” Charley says.
The next day Fran and Joey go for a drive to admire the foliage, then they find a bar with college football on TV. During a commercial break, when Joey orders nachos, Fran tells him she and Charley are going to dinner alone.
“No prob,” Joey says. “I have plans.” Turns out one of the other fathers—some guy Joey bonded with during the reception—invited Joey to dinner with his wife and daughter. You’ll keep me from being outnumbered, the guy apparently said.
“What’s this guy’s name?” Fran asks. “Which one was he?”
“Jimbo, I think he said? He looked like everyone else—thinning hair, navy blazer?”