Chapter 28 Beth
Beth
Zach sits on the foot of the bed, and Celeste sits next to him.
I’m staring at the photo framed above the fireplace.
It’s black and white, like the one in my room, but this one is of a young woman with long blond hair, sitting by the pool.
Unidentified guest enjoying the pool, reads the caption below it.
I force myself to look away. It’s not Sunny; it’s not her, I tell myself.
“My mom does this to everyone. I’m surprised my dad survived with her this long.
She’s so infuriating, and controlling, and unbearable.
Emasculating too,” Zach says. He stands and starts pacing again, running his hand through his dark hair.
“I don’t get how you guys were friends with her, I really don’t.
I mean, I live in Chicago because I don’t want to live near her. My poor dad.”
“Honey, it’s all going to work out,” Celeste says, although she doesn’t look that sure. “We’ll get through the wedding and then we’ll make our lives in Chicago.”
She looks at me, and so I don’t say anything. I don’t want her to make a life in Chicago, and she knows it. I need her back in Southern California. Back home. Near me.
“Maybe we could ship Roxy to Chicago, and you guys can come back home,” I say. I’m trying to lighten the mood. Zach doesn’t look at me. I’m getting the feeling he doesn’t take advice from women, at least not from me.
“Mom,” Celeste says, “I can handle this.”
I am not sure she can. I look at the wall with the dent in it the size of Zach’s shoe.
“I’m kidding about sending Roxy to Chicago.
Sort of,” I say. “Look, I’m going to go back to my room, get cleaned up for dinner.
I suggest you guys do the same. It will make you feel better to get all the dust off.
And maybe your parents will have reached an agreement by then, and things will be more cordial.
” I can only hope I’m telling the truth.
It looks like we’ll all be trapped here together, at least until the storm passes.
I don’t have it in me to weather a storm of Roxy’s emotions at the same time, so I hope they will all settle down and be civil.
“What my parents need to do is agree to never speak to each other again,” Zach says. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists as he walks. “Especially my mom. I’m so glad you aren’t anything like her, Celeste.”
There’s nobody quite like Roxy, fortunately. “I’m sorry. This is the toughest on kids, no matter their age,” I say. “OK, I’ll be right down the hall and up the stairs if you need me. Take some deep breaths. Both of you.”
Back in my bedroom, I take a long shower and give myself a chance to pause and think.
Zach’s one-sided blame isn’t right. Celeste and I both told him that all relationships involve two people, and to solely blame his mother for his father’s unhappiness was unfair, even if we are talking about Roxy.
For once in my life, I may actually feel a bit sorry for Roxy.
Just a tiny bit. I mean, her entire life just imploded publicly in front of all her guests, her sorority sisters.
Her reputation with us is everything to her; I know it is.
It was heart-wrenching to watch, even though some part of me says she deserves it, deserves to be abandoned and divorced.
Deserves to understand how it feels to be the single one, have everyone think there is something wrong with you because you don’t have a man.
In my case, I’ve focused my love and attention on Celeste.
Nothing else mattered, and dating was simply not something I was interested in.
Now, though, with a daughter living in Chicago and engaged to be married, I should consider it, I suppose.
But what am I going to do? Go on one of those apps?
I’d rather be single for the rest of my life.
I finally finish my shower and enjoy the plush robe and lotions provided before starting to blow-dry my hair.
It’s nothing like Roxy’s or Amelia’s long mane, but my hair does take a bit of effort.
I decide to jot down some notes for when I talk with Zach again, words of wisdom about relationships and how much moms—all moms—sacrifice for their kids.
I’m not sure he’ll listen, ever, but I decide I’ll try.
I walk around the bedroom to the bedside table, looking for a pen and paper.
This isn’t a hotel, so I shouldn’t expect it, I know. I pull open the drawer.
“Oh my God,” I say as I stare at the postcard inside the drawer.
The writing says, “So glad you’re here! See you soon!
” And the photo on the front is a woman wearing a bright green dress, her long blond hair cascading down her back.
I can’t see her face. Chills roll down my spine, and I slam the door closed.
Is someone trying to taunt me, trying to make me see Sunny in every room, at every turn?
There’s a knock on my door. I pull my robe closed and open the door to find Celeste. Her eyes are red as if she’s been crying.
“Come in, come in,” I say. “What’s wrong, honey? I know Zach’s upset, but is there something more?”
“I accidentally took a wrong turn and found myself standing next to that Brett guy. He’s lying there, dead on the piano,” she says, and I see she’s shaking.
“This whole weekend is a disaster. There’s a storm of dirt and dust outside, a dead man, Zach’s parents announced a divorce, there’s a huge fire burning out of control and heading this way.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m not supposed to be getting married. What if I’m the bad luck charm?”