Forty-Nine
When Dune left the apartment after his unannounced visit, Clara had a very confused and irritated Philip on her hands.
She wasn’t proud of that moment on Tre al Tavola.
The second the segment was over she wanted to ask Jimmy if they could do it again or ask the director to edit out her answer, but she didn’t have the courage for either, for letting them know how carelessly cruel she’d behaved.
She didn’t even think of Nina as dead! She had no idea why she’d blurted out that lie.
Something having to do with Jimmy’s mother and aunt sitting there, so proud and adoring, beaming so much love at him and each other and at her.
It made her lonely. And when Jimmy asked about Nina, and she felt the hot tears gather, she heard herself say a truly unspeakable thing.
Of course (of course!) that was one of maybe four episodes that Philip had seen.
He brought it up on their first date because his mother had died young—“I also lost my mother way too early,” he said gravely, mortifying her into silence.
She quickly changed the topic. The strangest thing about the lie was how in the weeks and months after she’d said it out loud on television, she felt some icy core of resistance inside of her start to melt.
She called her mother more often. At first, she was calling to take the temperature, to see if her mother had gotten word about what she’d done, unlikely given the tiny reach of their show, but not impossible.
Eventually, she called just to talk. Sometimes every week.
The calls were quick. Clara set the pace. Still guarded. But something.
And then other thoughts about her and her family intruded, unannounced but not entirely unwelcome.
Didn’t everyone mess up? Wasn’t everyone just trying to live their lives, do their best?
Wasn’t everyone worthy of forgiveness? That last one was hard for her.
She didn’t want to forgive her mother, but hadn’t Clara done an unforgivable thing, too?
What might happen if she put down her outrage?
Just put it down and moved forward without it?
And then Dune appeared at the door. And then Philip’s anger and disappointment.
“After I didn’t tell you the first time, I couldn’t,” she tried to explain. “I tried, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” She didn’t know how many more ways to apologize. She was truly sorry, and he seemed to be softening a little when she made another strategic error.
“What do you mean you’re not going to your sister’s wedding?” he said after she casually mentioned her intention to skip the weekend.
“Oh, I don’t think they really want me there,” she said.
“Really? That guy came from Rochester to hand deliver a wedding invitation because they don’t want you there?
” And just like that he was furious again.
Clara capitulated in the face of his outrage.
She wasn’t going to open up a new battlefront over Dune.
They would go to Bridie’s wedding. She would confess all to her mother in person, assuming Dune hadn’t already ratted her out.
When they landed at the Rochester airport, the first person Clara saw was Bridie, waiting at the gate, jumping up and down and waving frantically. Clara grinned and made a beeline for her sister, Philip following close behind.
“I see you,” she said, giving a wave even more exaggerated than Bridie’s, using both arms as if she were helping to land a plane, laughing. She rushed to Bridie and hugged her hard. This was going to be fine. Fine. “I’m happy to see you, bride.”