Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
There’s glitter on the ceiling.
How it got there, I don’t know. But it shimmers at me like a disco ball as I teeter on a chair with a roll of crepe paper in one hand and a half-empty glass of kombucha in the other.
I’m not going to lie… It’s grown on me, but I can’t let Viv know that.
If I admit to it, I won’t have any excuse not to have her drag me off to an early morning goat yoga class.
Somewhere behind me, Viv is arguing with Harper about whether the balloon arch is “whimsically festive” or “a desperate attempt to outrun mortality with latex.”
Marin is laughing, actually laughing, which feels like a minor miracle considering how few times I’ve heard her let go and let a smile slip through her tough exterior the past few months.
“It looks great, Mom!” Harper’s arms are crossed, and her critical eye is scanning the living room like she’s judging a baking competition and I’m the sad, undercooked scone. “I think between the backyard and the abundance of glitter and the karaoke machine, it’s going to be the party of the year.”
I add another piece of tape to the balloon arch. “Are you only saying that so I don’t cry?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, but also it looks great. Like, impressively not tragic.”
I hop down from the chair and nearly take out the huge “50th” pinata hanging from my ceiling fan with my face.
“Your glue gun work is really improving.” Viv nods toward the banner that Marin finished hanging. “You're only mildly hazardous to yourself and others now.” Then she side eyes my mostly empty glass of kombucha. “Dare I say you liked the cranberry flavor?”
I try to shove the glass behind my back. “I admit nothing.”
Marin flops dramatically onto the couch, giggling like a teenager as she pulls her now ever-present dinging phone out of her pocket.
“So, Marin, three dates in three days. Things must be going well?” I flop down on the armchair beside her.
“When are we going to get the details of what’s happening with Mr. Floss Boss?” Viv wiggles onto the end of the couch, shuffling so her lap’s under Marin’s feet.
Marin throws a pillow over her face like she’s completed a triathlon. “It’s been good? Weird? He told me I have good looking tonsils,” Marin mumbles from under the pillow. “Which was surprisingly sexier than one might think because the kiss that followed was perfection.”
Viv cackles. “Honestly, I’d take nice tonsils. Some guy at the grocery store told me I had ‘heart stopping earlobes.’”
“Resilient enamel? Are we dating or getting a dental cleaning?” Harper raises an eyebrow and tosses a streamer roll at Marin.
“But you’re into him?” Viv kicks her feet up on the coffee table, brushing aside the pile of “50th” napkins.
“He’s… nice. Predictable. Comfortably boring.
” Marin pulls the pillow off her face and sets it on her lap, her expression suddenly less amused and more thoughtful.
“But, well, he’s not just boring.” Her voice is soft, almost as though she’s talking to herself.
“I mean, he is. He’s the human equivalent of a Subaru, no offense, Birdie.
But the other night, he kissed me and I just—” She pauses, blinking.
“I felt something. Like my body remembered I was allowed to feel good again. That I’m still in here. ”
Viv leans forward, suddenly very sober. “Marin.”
She nods. “I know. It sounds dumb. But it’s been years since I felt that, even before the accident. There was so much silence in my marriage. Not fighting. Not closeness. Just this growing echo of nothing.”
Viv reaches out and taps Marin’s shin with her hand. “It’s not dumb. It’s huge. Good-for-you huge.”
“I almost forgot what that flutter was.” Marin swirls her own glass of kombucha, cheeks coloring. “It made me feel like I might still have a future. Like there might be something on the other side of all this guilt.”
“You do have a future.” I set my empty glass on the coffee table and lean close. “You’re not frozen in place because everything stopped for a while.”
Marin sinks deeper into the couch with a groan. “I swear, I used muscles I didn’t know I had trying to remember how to flirt. I didn’t think I’d feel anything again. Especially not on date three with a dentist who complimented my enamel.” She lets out a short laugh.
“Let’s hope that next time he gets to see more of you to compliment.” Viv winks. “Is he coming to the party?”
Marin wiggles her phone. “That was him confirming that he’ll be there.”
I almost expect her to let out a girlish squeal with the announcement.
“I did something much more intimate than sex last night.” Viv’s statement is casual, as though she’s declaring that she decided to give oat milk another try.
We both turn to her.
“Viv!” Marin’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t finally let someone see your feet, did you?”
“Hell no!” Viv grabs her chapstick off the end table and dabs her lips with it. “But thank you for reminding me I’m overdue for a pedicure. I’m talking about real intimacy. The terrifying, soul-baring kind.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with Viv?”
Harper, who’s sitting cross-legged on the rug, eating a Pop-Tart like she’s watching a daytime talk show, chimes in. “She’s not lying. I was there. I have emotional whiplash.”
Viv rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. “I was out back hanging fairy lights last night, and I got hit by this wave of sadness. You know that kind that sneaks up and punches you in the throat? One second you’re yelling at a knot of extension cords, and the next you’re grieving your whole damn life. ”
We’re quiet now, the joking gone still. Viv’s voice drops softer.
“Danny would’ve fixed the lights in thirty seconds and then made fun of my taste in disco ball garland. And I missed him. But not in that nostalgic, ‘aw, memories’ kind of way. In the gut-level, ‘how do I still breathe without you?’ kind of way.”
Viv glances at Harper, her eyes shinier than usual.
“And then Harper came out with tea. No lecture. No awkward questions. She sat next to me while I ugly cried about the fact that I loved my best friend so deeply that I don’t think I know how to let him go.
And I don’t know how to love anyone else because I keep measuring them by a man who doesn’t exist anymore.
And I can’t stand to sit in the silence because the silence is where I drown, and if I fill it with enough life, then death can’t touch me. ”
Harper puts down her Pop-Tart and moves beside her on the floor, resting her head on Viv’s shoulder. “You’re not broken because you loved him well. You’re grieving honestly. That’s brave.”
Viv snorts, blinking rapidly. “If this turns into an after-school special, I’m out.”
Marin nudges her. “Too late. We’re already planning the commercial break.”
I smile at the two of them, the way Harper leans into Viv, the way Viv doesn’t flinch. “That’s beautiful, Viv. That you let someone see you like that. Especially someone like Harper. She’s a good reminder that life can and does go on.”
Viv lifts Harper’s hand and kisses the back of it dramatically. “Don’t make a habit of being emotionally supportive, Harper. It’ll ruin your sarcastic brand.”
Harper smirks. “I’ve got range.”
Marin sighs, mock-wiping a tear. “I love us. We’re like a Hallmark movie, but with better boobs and trauma.”
Viv laughs and tosses a pillow at her. “That’s going on our group text bio.”
And then Viv’s eyes narrow in my direction. “Alright, your turn.”
I blink. “My turn for what?”
Marin shifts to sit upright, suddenly alert. “We haven’t properly unpacked the whole Noah on the roof with no pants and the post-coital glow you were rocking. You want to talk about your thing with Noah or should we assume he was looking for his mailbag up there?”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I mutter, pulling a throw pillow into my lap like it’s emotional armor and wondering if it’s possible to die of embarrassment talking about sex with my daughter in the room.
Viv grins. “So. You and Noah. How are we feeling?”
I take a deep breath, staring at the pinata because it’s easier than looking at their knowing faces.
“I don’t know. I mean, it was good. Really good. Better than I expected. But now I’m scared it was a one-time, post-repression explosion and I’ve opened a door I don’t know how to close.”
“You don’t have to close it,” Marin says gently. “It doesn’t have to mean anything right away.”
“But that’s the thing.” My fingers pick at the edge of the couch cushion.
“What if it does? What if it already means something and I’ve completely upended my brain and my grief and my kids’ image of their father’s best friend because I couldn’t stop myself from falling into bed with a man who’s been orbiting our lives for two decades? ”
They’re both quiet for a moment. “You didn’t fall into bed with him,” Viv whispers. “You chose to. That’s different.”
“And you haven’t uprooted my entire image of Noah, Mom. You’re a woman with needs, and Noah’s a great guy.” Harper’s thoughtful response shocks me. How did I raise such a good one?
“Yeah,” Marin adds. “And maybe the world didn’t explode because of it. Maybe it’s the next thing.”
I nod slowly, biting the inside of my cheek. “It’s complicated. Noah was always Owen’s. His best friend. His shadow. His right hand. And then he was both of ours. And now I’m seeing him in this whole new light, and it feels like betrayal and safety all at once.”
Viv nudges me with her foot. “That’s grief, babe. It rewrites all the rules.”
We clink glasses, Marin with her honesty, Harper with her thoughtfulness, Viv with her progress, and me, clinging to the edges of this strange, healing mess.
Mid-sip, I hear the front door swinging open and the telltale sound of heavy footsteps pounding into my front entryway. “Mom?”
I know that voice. That voice has yelled “MOOOOM” across more gymnasiums and soccer fields and fast food drive-thrus than I can count.
“Matt!” I dart up, glass abandoned, and race for the door like the house is on fire.
There he is—six-foot-four of pure athlete, with a duffel slung over his shoulder and a smirk that hasn’t changed since kindergarten. He catches me mid-run and lifts me off the ground in a hug that makes me forget every ache in my joints.
“You didn’t warn me you turned into a full-blown adult,” I exhale into his sweatshirt.
“You didn’t warn me you turned the house into a party store.” He leans back, grinning.
He sets me down and gestures behind him. “Mom, this is my teammate Jalen. We flew in together. He didn’t have plans this weekend, and I figured he could use some chaos.”
Jalen steps into the house, the same tall, athletic build as Matt. Stretching out his hand, he nods. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Lawson.”
Before I can reply, Viv steps forward, previous emotional healing apparently forgotten.
“Well, hellooo, Jalen.” She extends her hand. “I’m Viv. Widow. Former dancer. Frequent flirt.”
Jalen takes her hand and flushes crimson. “Um. Nice to meet you?”
“God help you,” Marin mutters behind her mug of tea.
“Don’t mind her.” I try to ease the discomfort and shoot Viv a look. “She gets friskier around other people’s adult children.”
Matt groans. “Mom, can we not?”
“Just a little hazing,” Viv says sweetly. “You want to be part of the Lawson family vortex, you need to survive innuendo and small batches of kombucha.”
Jalen glances around the room, at the balloon arch, the pinata, the streamers, the glitter, and does what I can only assume is a mental risk assessment while he runs his hand through his dark hair. “It’s a really nice house.”
“Thanks.” I nod toward the kitchen. “It was nicer before glitter happened. But we’re celebrating my late husband’s fiftieth tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Matt told me.” Jalen’s voice is instantly serious, his brown eyes knitting together. “I’m sorry.”
I wave it off. “Don’t be. He’d have loved this circus. Especially the karaoke machine.”
Matt slings an arm around my shoulders. “I told him there’d be pulled pork and old people dancing. He still came.”
“Brave man.” Viv raises her eyebrows and does a little sashay in Jalen’s direction. He looks at me, wild-eyed, and I step in to rescue him.
“Come on. You guys hungry? We’ve got Thai food and more vegan cookies than anyone needs.”
As the boys trail into the kitchen, Viv leans toward Marin and whispers, “I call dibs on Jalen’s therapist in ten years.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Marin mutters.
“So, Mom, is your date going to be here tomorrow?” Harper wiggles her eyebrows before stuffing a large bite of Pad Thai into her mouth.
“Yeah, Mom. Will I finally get to meet this mystery man? Between practices and classes and gym sessions, I’ve only gotten a few cryptic texts from Harper about him. Need to make sure he treats you well.”
“Are you two really okay with this?” My fingers twist into each other, my right hand moving to work the wedding band on my left finger out of habit. Except it’s not there anymore. Matt’s eyes flicker down to catch the movement.
“We want you to be happy. No one’s ever going to replace Dad, but that doesn’t mean you need to be alone forever. I mean, you’re not that old.”
“Thank you?” It comes out as a question, as I have no idea if I’ve been complimented or insulted.
Matt takes another big bite of curry. “So, like I said, I’m lacking details. Who’s the lucky guy?”
I don’t have a chance to answer before Harper’s blurting out, “Bro! You’re never going to believe it. I’ll give you three hints.”
Matt leans forward like he’s about to get the best secret he’s heard all year.
“One: tall, dark, and handsome.”
“Well, that doesn’t really help me out. You could be describing twenty percent of the Seattle area.”
“Two: someone we’ve known for a long time.”
Matt shifts back, his eyebrows knitting together.
“Three: he delivers our mail.”
Now Matt’s fully back in his chair, mouth set in a firm line. “Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all I get? It’s romantic! I don’t expect you to swoon, but a little ‘awe’ wouldn’t kill you,” Harper continues, but I can’t take my eyes off Matt and how suddenly his reaction has changed.
“Yeah. Romantic.” He takes a long swig of the kombucha Viv’s placed in front of him. “So, need any help with party details?”
The obvious change in subject doesn’t go unnoticed.
Later, as the house winds down and I’m rinsing wine glasses in the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of Owen’s old watch on the counter; I’d found it when I was rummaging through the drawer for an extra roll of tape.
My heart tugs, confused and aching.
Tomorrow, I’ll stand in front of everyone and try to celebrate a man who’s gone, while trying not to fall apart in front of the one who’s somehow still here.