Chapter 13
The theater on the ground floor, located next to Moira’s gym, was a midsized dark space without windows. Ten black recliners
were arranged in a semicircle in front of a large projector screen on the long wall. At the back of the room was a small kitchenette
with a black countertop that displayed a red and white popcorn machine, as well as a large woven basket filled with a variety
of candies.
Samantha Baker’s family struggled to get out the door on time in the opening scene of Sixteen Candles while the party of five settled into their leather recliners with bowls of fresh buttery popcorn and their choice of sugary
candy. Everyone but Moira grabbed a bottle of water or a can of cold soda from the mini fridge. Instead, she sipped chardonnay
with soda water and a squeeze of lemon from a silver tumbler she’d purchased at the gift shop at one of her favorite places
on earth: Wormsloe Historic Site.
CK noticed that Mo drank from the insulated cup after every few bites of popcorn, which piqued her curiosity as to what Moira
was downing.
When CK’s phone vibrated in the recliner’s cup holder, she frantically reached for it, expecting a text from Sean saying that Chipper Jones had keeled over from feline leukemia. Instead, it was from Gemma, and it said, She must have the tolerance of a frat boy.
The group was quietly engrossed in the movie for the first twenty minutes until Nell got up to head to the bathroom.
“I’m not it this time!” Gemma exclaimed with pride. “I’m not the first one to leave the movie to go to the bathroom. Where’s
my medal?”
“I thought I would be the first one to get up,” CK added. “I remember when I could drive down to the Gulf Coast on summer
vacation without pulling over once. Now I’m stopped at a gas station before we even get out of the county.”
Nell stopped at the theater door and said, “I walk down our road and back every morning, and a few days ago, I couldn’t hold
it until I got back to the house. I had to dart down into a ditch. And wouldn’t you know, on a red-clay Georgia back road
that rarely gets traffic, two trucks came barreling by at that very moment!”
Nell disappeared out the door and the group continued to laugh at her story, except for Moira, who was annoyed at the attention
being lavished on the Goody Two-shoes.
CK popped a few peanut butter candies into her mouth before saying, “I remember my mother telling me that she should have
worn a diaper to my basketball games because as soon as she jumped up to cheer, that was it.” CK smiled at the thought. “That
seems so long ago, but here I am now, just like my mother, with hot flashes, reading glasses, and a useless bladder.”
“Notice Erin hasn’t said a word because she’s still in her thirties. You just wait, kid.” Moira winked at Erin sitting quietly
in her recliner.
“Yeah, y’all are scaring me a little bit.” Erin laughed and ate a handful of sour candies.
“It’s all downhill after forty.” CK pointed her thumb downward and rolled her eyes.
Nell reentered the theater and picked right back up where she’d left off by saying, “And all that walking I do every morning
doesn’t even count for anything because my metabolism isn’t what it used to be.” She sat back in the chair and covered her
legs with a white chenille throw blanket. “There was a time when I could eat whatever I wanted if I walked two miles a day.
But that is not the case anymore. I swear I could walk to Miami and back and only burn ten calories. But Chip? He wanted to
lose a few pounds, so all he did was cut sugar from his coffee, and suddenly he was back to his college weight.”
Moira smirked quietly and allowed herself to feel vain for a moment because she still had the metabolism of her younger self.
Whether cycling, walking, or swimming laps in the pool, she made sure to stay active for at least an hour each day. This moderate
exercise allowed her to indulge in all the delicious, fatty foods and glasses of wine she wanted without worrying about her
weight.
Gemma saw an opportunity to poke fun at herself and said, “Nell, my metabolism is as useless as a screen door on a submarine.”
She laughed and dug into the popcorn bowl resting in her lap. “And speaking of submarines, I’m about the size of one, aren’t
I?”
The mood in the room suddenly changed from light and humorous to thick with tension.
“There you go again. Stop, Gemma,” CK said seriously.
“Oh, Celia Kate, you know it’s true. You all do.” Gemma’s smile faded as the kernels rolled to the bottom of her plastic bowl
with a soft patter.
“Gemma, you are beautiful, and you know it,” Mo declared with a drunken slur. “You are so beautiful to me. Can’t you see? You’re everything I hoped for. Everything I . . .” Her singing trailed off when no one laughed at her attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
“I carry my weight well.” Gemma nodded at the screen and changed the subject. “Jake Ryan looks like Tyler back in high school,
doesn’t he, CK? Mo?”
“I don’t see it.” Moira hiccupped before taking another drink from the stainless-steel cup.
“You don’t see the resemblance, Mo? Oh, I certainly do,” CK said, agreeing with Gemma. “Tyler used to look a lot like Jake
Ryan. But I never thought Jake Ryan was attractive. Maybe it’s his caterpillar eyebrows or that big, goofy hair. Either way,
he’s not my cup of tea.”
Gemma was distracted by the peanut M&M that had fallen into her pajama top, but she still heard the insult Celia Kate directed
at her husband.
Sam and Jake shared a kiss over the glowing birthday cake in the final scene of the movie, and a loud snore escaped from Moira’s
open mouth. Her neatly secured hair had come loose, and messy strands framed her sleeping face. One of her house shoes had
slipped off her pedicured foot, while the other dangled from her toes. As the final credits rolled on the screen, Nell was
the first to stand up and reach for a heavy sherpa blanket on one of the empty chairs. She carefully moved the empty popcorn
bucket and chocolate candy box from Moira’s chest and covered her.
“Do you think we should just leave her down here?” Nell asked Gemma, CK, and Erin.
“Sure, she’ll be fine,” Erin said. “Sometimes she falls asleep in here while watching old home movies.”
CK let out a sad moan. “You mean, like, movies of Jeffrey and the kids?”
Erin nodded. “And her wedding. She watches it quite a bit.”
“Bless her soul,” Nell remarked, her voice tinged with sympathy.
Moira’s guests left her sleeping soundly in the dark theater and moved through the house, turning off lights and locking doors.
Once they finished securing the downstairs, they walked up the staircase and gathered in the hallway outside their respective
rooms.
“I’m concerned about Mo, Erin. How much is she really drinking?” CK asked while leaning against the doorframe to her and Gemma’s
bedroom.
Because she knew that these women were Moira’s closest friends and truly cared for her, Erin explained that Moira usually
opened a bottle of wine or vodka before she left for the day. She recalled times when she arrived at work to find broken wineglasses
or evidence that Moira had hurriedly grabbed a trash can. She also told them Moira rarely left the house anymore, sometimes
not for days or even weeks. Erin had become her connection to the outside world, taking the cats to the groomer, grocery shopping,
and even scheduling a nail technician to come to the house every other week for manicures and pedicures.
“Moira Allyson, an alcoholic recluse?” Gemma said with disbelief. “I know she hasn’t been posting things online, but still,
this blows my mind. She’s always been the extrovert, the socialite.”
“I had no idea,” CK confessed, a look of surprise covering her tired face.
“She and I talk on the phone or text every few weeks, and she’s never let on that she was lonely or depressed or holed up in the house.
Like Gemma said, Mo has always been such a social butterfly.
When Jeffrey died, I figured she’d throw herself into as much charity work and volunteering as possible to keep her occupied. ”
“I think she did in the beginning,” Nell added. “But it wasn’t too long after he died when I noticed she was more reliant
on alcohol than she was on God, the church, her friends, and charity work to help her through her grief.”
They all expressed their discontent and worry for Moira.
Nell continued, “I don’t guess she told you all about our little tiff, did she?”
“She mentioned something, but not in much detail,” CK said.
“Last Christmas I confronted her about her drinking. I did it in love, I promise. I was stern with her, but I was also very
careful not to sound critical or condemning. After all, I struggled with the same addiction for years. I know how quickly
it can get out of control.”
“Oh, Nell, I didn’t know that either,” CK said while she ran a hand through her long ponytail.
Gemma guiltily gnawed on her lip and added, “I hope tonight, us drinking, you know . . . I hope that hasn’t been uncomfortable
or awkward for you.”
“Yeah, Nell, I’m sorry if—” Erin began.
“Oh no,” Nell assured them. “The Lord helps me overcome temptation day by day. Sometimes hour by hour. But I’m fine, really.
I wouldn’t have come this weekend if it was a problem.”
“So how did she take it? When you talked to her last Christmas?” CK asked.
“She cut me off. She quit coming to Oglethorpe. I felt so guilty about that. I still feel guilty at times. I certainly don’t want to be the reason she pulls away from her faith.” Nell looked downcast.
“Don’t you dare think that way,” Celia Kate said, comforting Nell. “You spoke the truth to Mo, and I trust you delivered it
with love. You have such a kind and forgiving spirit, Nell, which draws people to you instead of pushing them away. You aren’t
responsible for how Moira feels, nor are you responsible for her decision to leave the church.”
Nell smiled in appreciation at CK. “Thank you.”
Gemma added, “I agree with CK. If Mo pushed you away, it’s because what you said made her feel uncomfortable. Being confronted
with the truth often does that.”
Beautiful Moira was completely unaware of the conversation taking place upstairs in her home as she slept soundly in the movie
theater. Gravelly snores escaped her open mouth, and a warm stream of drool pooled in the crease of her neck. Meanwhile, those
she considered her dearest friends whispered in the dimly lit upstairs hallway about her alleged alcohol problem. If Moira
had known they were critiquing her choices under her own roof, she would have certainly confronted them and kicked them out,
sending them back to their boring, mundane lives.