Chapter 11 This Is Not about Us #2
“Your mother.”
“Aha!” Just as he thought, this was no big deal.
Debra said, “What do you mean, aha? You need to talk to her.”
“Okay. No problem.”
“She found out Helen isn’t coming.”
“Why would Helen come when they aren’t speaking?”
“I know, but she’s distraught.”
“Helen was never coming. Why did Mom think that?”
“You have to call her.”
“And how is that going to help?” He was watching Heather put on her shoes.
“You know what, Richard?”
“Fine.”
“There’s a reason Sylvia called me first. There’s a reason I know about all this.”
“I said fine,” Richard told Debra.
“Why am I still picking up the slack here?”
“I said I’d talk to her! Anything else?”
“Don’t you speak that way to me.”
Years ago, he might have said what way? And she would have said can you even hear yourself? And he would have said, what about you? How would you describe the way you’re speaking now? But he didn’t escalate. He said “Will do” and ended the call.
“I should go,” Heather said.
“Please don’t,” he said.
“I told you. We should stay apart until after Lily’s day.”
“You’re being superstitious.”
“I’m not. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“You could never do that. My mother will make trouble all by herself. My mother, and my aunt.” His family was a weather system rolling in. Rain, wind, sleet.
—
Sylvia mourned on the phone that night. “It’s because Helen doesn’t have grandchildren of her own. She’s jealous, and that’s why she won’t accept the invitation—to ruin it for me.”
“Mom, why would Helen come? You haven’t spoken since the cake!”
“What cake?”
“You know exactly what cake. Your apple cake.”
“This has nothing to do with cake.”
“Oh really?”
“Richard, you know what she did.”
“No, actually,” he began—but stopped himself. He wasn’t going to argue about who did what. “The point is you’re not speaking to her.”
“I am speaking to her. She isn’t speaking to me!”
“Okay, let’s assume for a moment that all this could be true…”
“Don’t lawyer me.”
“Just let me ask you this. Why would Helen come to your granddaughter’s Bat Mitzvah if she isn’t speaking to you? Don’t you think she would ruin it if she came?”
“No. She’s ruining it now.”
“Only if you let her,” said Richard, with all the wisdom of his newfound happiness.
—
He was serene. He was listening to Heather, and they were staying apart. All they did was talk on the phone, and he was fine with that. Heather was the opposite of suffocating, and breathing felt so good—at least for the first few days. After a week, he called and said, “This might be overkill.”
“It’s not,” said Heather. “We have to think of Debra.”
“Believe me,” Richard said, “I do.”
“But it’s different now.”
“Don’t be guilty.”
“It’s going to be weird.”
“It will be okay,” Richard insisted. “Eventually.”
—
Don’t look at me, Heather texted on Friday before pictures.
The temple did not allow photography on Shabbat, so the family did formal photos on Friday afternoon.
The photographer was setting up in the sanctuary as Richard texted back, Won’t look at you at all.
And he was good as his word, even when he and Debra and Heather had to huddle, double-checking who would have honors in the morning.
He kept his eyes on Debra with her gray hair.
His mother and stepfather had arrived. His cousins were gathering for the family photos.
Wendy and her wife, Jill. Dan and Melanie, with their waif Phoebe.
Steve and Andrea with their huge sons. Everybody was embracing, although Debra’s parents and her sister Becca stood apart.
Becca had hated Richard from the beginning.
She tucked her hair behind her ears (she was a large woman, but her ears were tiny) and whenever Richard glanced her way, he could hear her thinking, Overbearing selfish male asshole.
Silently, he defended himself, because he was not a monster. Male, yes, but he couldn’t help that. Overbearing, no! Selfish, no! He took the girls to nail appointments for God’s sake. Endured every concert, school open house, and play.
“Which one of you is Sylvia?” The photographer consulted his cheat sheet. “Grandma, amiright? Which one of you is Lew?”
Once again, Richard didn’t look at Heather as she set the Torah on the lectern and rolled the scrolls to the right place. He focused on Lily, posing with her blown-glass pointer, pretending to read.
His daughters stood before blush roses and cream lilies on the bima. “Beautiful girls,” Sylvia said.
“It’s true,” he agreed.
“How lovely to be here together,” Sylvia told Richard as his side of the family posed with the girls. “It’s a blessing.”
“It really is,” he said, even as he sensed Heather standing just out of frame.
Sylvia sighed. “I just wish Helen could be here.”
“Mom,” Richard warned.
“I only have one sister left.”
“Yup,” said Richard, because that’s what everybody had been saying since the feud began.
“But she’s so stubborn; she’ll die before she speaks to me. Or I’ll die first.”
“Good job, everyone,” the photographer said.
There was a rehearsal dinner, but Heather didn’t stay. The family sat at two long tables in the Social Hall and they ate a choice of prime rib or mushroom risotto. Richard texted Heather, you good?
And she texted back. home now.
All was well except for Sylvia, who grew maudlin as the evening ended, and began telling Lily about her namesake Lillian’s last days. “There was nothing anyone could do, because the cancer spread to her spine,” Sylvia told Lily. “Her bones broke like teacups, but she did not complain.”
“Mom, do you think we could save that for another time?” said Richard.
In the parking lot as Debra prepared to take the girls home, Richard kissed Lily and said, “See you tomorrow, sweetie.”
“Dad,” Lily said, “why is Grandma always talking about dying?”
“She’s just old,” said Richard. “She’s really very happy.” Lily looked at him with her big eyes, and for a second she seemed almost tearful, but the moment passed and she ran off to Debra’s car.
—
Richard woke alone to a perfect October day.
He donned a new suit with a sky-blue tie and drove to temple, thinking how blessed he was, and how sweet his daughters were and how fortunate he was to have only two.
This was the last event he would plan with Debra for years and years.
They would never discuss caterers again—not until the weddings—and with any luck, Sophie would elope.
He arrived early, but the parking lot was almost full.
“I didn’t realize we’d have such a crowd,” Richard told the rabbi as he walked in.
“Well, it’s a doubleheader,” Rabbi Zlotnick said. “Not to mention we’ve got three baby namings. Shabbat shalom. It’s a great day!” The rabbi greeted guests and congregants with his famous hugs. Meanwhile, Debra was consulting with Heather, who had her game face on.
“Where’s your sister?” Richard asked Sophie.
“Car.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s sitting in the car.”
“In the parking lot?” Richard whipped out his phone.
“Don’t,” Debra warned. “I texted her already.”
“Did you tell her the service is about to start?”
“She’s coming,” said Heather in her capacity as tutor. “She’s just taking a moment.”
“Well, I hope so,” Richard said in his capacity as dad, the one who used to drive Lily home from sleepovers in the middle of the night.
Congregants were filing in. People from work. Richard’s face was hot.
“We have to start,” the associate rabbi Julie told him, even as Heather slipped out to see what she could do.
The cantor was singing from the bima, “Ashrei yoshvei veitecha…” Happy are those who dwell in your house, and Richard had no choice but to sit—but he kept glancing at the doors.
There was time before the Torah reading, and it was true that Arielle, the other Bat Mitzvah girl, was first. They had split the chanting down the middle.
Arielle was reading four aliyot and Lily was to read three plus the haftarah—if this wasn’t a full-blown panic attack.
She hadn’t had one since she was nine, but here they all were, gathered at the temple. What better time?
Richard glanced at Debra sitting next to him, and she looked back as if to say, Don’t move.
Don’t even breathe. The extended family rustled in the pews behind them, and they were curious—but he and Debra were in agony, because really?
After all this? Was Lily going to punt now?
Yes. He could see that Debra thought she would.
No recrimination. No blame. They were united, because it was just as it had been when she was little.
Lily was fine until the very end, until the moment all the other girls settled into sleeping bags, or the second that she had to step onstage.
What fools they had been, pretending weekly therapy was enough to manage her anxiety.
Obviously, Lily would never manage anything, and this would be their life with her forever.
They were doomed…until Richard heard his mother whisper, “Oh, there she is.”
A small pale Lily slipped into place next to Debra as Heather wrapped her striped tallis around her like a sheltering wing. Richard leaned forward just slightly, looking past Debra at Heather in her long blue cotton dress and woven tallis. He looked at her and she glanced back, half smiling.
And Debra saw and understood. She stared Richard straight in the face, and even after all their fights and all the litigation, his heart dropped, because she knew what he’d been keeping from her. Could you ever divorce, really? He had disappointed her again.