Chapter 30
Back in the house, I picked up a book from the couch to put back in Callie’s room. Di was atop the stairs in a belted chenille robe, a cracking clay beauty mask on her face. She wiggled a finger. I stepped past her, too overwhelmed by my discussion with Lisa to speak.
She tugged on my elbow. “Don’t be upset about it.”
“You have no idea what’s going on or what I’m upset about,” I said.
Di hauled me into the guest room, the quarters that should have been mine. Okay, so I wasn’t over it. Quickly, she shut the door, snatched clean laundry from the bed, which I still considered too low, dumped it on a chair, and sat while I remained standing.
She whispered. “Naturally, I’m on to Lisa. I’m sorry I took that out on you—at the fair, at the house. The pregnancy? Brian supplied the lowdown yesterday. I kept mum because it’s Lisa’s place to confess her affair directly to you,” she said, accurately.
Her use of the words “confess” and “affair” irked me, made me want to defend Lisa by repeating what she told me outdoors under the tree, that she was in love, but Di was Brian’s mother.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked.
“Not a good time, Di.”
“Look, our children’s relationship was on a breathing tube. Brian was promoted to department chair, rented a place in Boston. I crossed my fingers they’d figure it out. Until I realized my suspicion of an affair was accurate. Sometimes I wonder if anyone else is spot on as often as me.”
“Do you know Will personally?”
“I sold him his house. A steal, of course, as I negotiated it. Besides, everyone knows Will. Where’s your head? He’s on YouTube and followed by millions on TikTok.”
“Wait. He’s famous?”
“And your daughter’s about to be, because she’s having his child.”
I imagined the headline news flashing on TV. Irreputable magazines offering Lisa payment for a picture of Will Cook’s offspring. Her donating the proceeds to Global Food Kitchens. Nicki Nussbaum asking me—the infant’s grandmother—for an interview, the scoop on local news that was about to go international.
Di studied me. “Nothing for you to do but meet the fourth grandma.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Do you think Will arrived from outer space? I know nothing about his dad, but his mom is a judge.”
“You’ve met her?”
“I’ve seen her. She’s difficult to miss. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wound up in this area one day. Will’s an only child.”
“Well, we’ll welcome her to the fold,” I said, smirking.
“We could start a club.”
“Not if it’s like your book club,” I said, which helped me feel a tinge better. “Anything else?”
“I’ll be out of this house,” she said. “Regrettably. It was a convenient place to stay when I helped clients in a crunch.”
I rolled my eyes. Did she even know how self-involved she was? What did I expect a narcissist to say?
“When you realized Lisa was involved with another man, did you tell Brian?”
“I haven’t told Brian I have cancer.”
“Right. Di, I think he needs to know you’re ill.”
“What good would it do?”
“You’re a tough cookie, Di, but also a real character, an original. Despite your bravado, there are folks who care about you. Maybe it’s time to let them in.”
“Are you one of those people?”
“I came to the hospital.”
She snorted. “You were abducted.”
“True. But now I’d show up of my own accord.”
“I’m rough on people,” she said. “Take Annie.”
“I can see how it’s difficult to be nice to a young girl who’s living with your first husband, the father of your kids.”
I wouldn’t enjoy having Jake’s young honeybun drilling her way into my family.
“I still don’t get why Annie is with Milton,” she said.
“Lisa told me Annie loves him. Maybe, but I disagree. I think Annie believes she has no other choice in life. She lacks guidance. Please tell your son you have cancer.”
I expected her to say “No, I can’t,” but instead, she said, “I wasn’t crazy about your daughter when I first met her.”
“Thanks, Di.” I grinned at her. She was who she was. Hard. Callous. Nothing for me to do but to expect it. As far as her opinion of Lisa, I was in for the backhanded compliment of the day.
“But now I like her. I’d say I’m fond of her. She’s been good to me, welcoming me to town, inviting me to stay here when my other son lit a match to my house. Not every daughter-in-law would do that. Maybe because I’ve been through so many marriages, I don’t find Lisa and Brian’s situation surprising. I’ve seen it all. Of course, I’m in my son’s corner first, but I hope I can remain on good terms with Lisa.”
“I feel the same about Brian.”
“Divorce is purgatory,” Di said. “Expecting it to be easy is a fantasy.”
“There are some who are able to get along.”
Di’s glance said it was not going to happen.
I heard Lisa in the bathroom. Retching. Puking. As if she had consumed a rotten buffet at an all-you-can-eat hellhole that left you to conclude the dehydrated fried chicken was manufactured in a cardboard factory. I dashed to Lisa.
“It’s me,” I said, knocking on the door.
“Oh, Mom. I feel like hell,” she moaned, then upchucked again. “No. Hell would be better than this.”
I hurried downstairs for ginger ale, but unlike at home in Florida, where I always kept a few cans on hand, there was none. Lisa didn’t drink soda. How could I forget? I set a glass of water on the vanity next to the sink as Lisa crouched over the toilet bowl.
“Oh, Mom, I forgot how bad this is. My insides are coming out. What the heck did I eat?”
“Doesn’t matter what you ate.”
“What have I gotten myself into?”
I had a hoard of answers to that question, and a good number had nothing to do with feeling nauseated during pregnancy. I soaked a hand towel with cold water, passed it to her.
“Do you want me to hold your hair back?” I asked Lisa.
“They only do that in the movies. Besides, it’s way too late.”