“Watch your language.”
“No,” I said. “You don’t get to be my mother now, Lilly. You’re lucky I’m even talking to you. And the very idea that you can stand there on your high horse about this after all the things you said to me would be laughable if it wasn’t so sad.”
She sighed. “Emmy, we’ve been over this. I said what I said because—”
“There’s no reason good enough, Mom. That’s what you don’t seem to get. Even if all those things were true, even if I was a worthless human being and destined to ruin Luke’s life, you weren’t supposed to say it. And you know, that’d be fine. I could forgive it. You’re human, and if anyone can understand doing something you can’t take back, trust me. It’s me. But you won’t even admit it was wrong. You won’t even say you’re sorry.”
She took a deep breath and her shoulders slumped inward. For the first time in my memory of her, she actually looked old. “I never said you were worthless.”
“Who are we kidding, Mom? You’ve been saying that to me my whole life.”
She gasped in shock. “I never, ever—”
“Every time you abandoned me for a man or a job or a spa weekend with the girls, that’s exactly what you said. You missed birthdays and graduations and half the time, you forgot how old I was. You wrote in your memoir that you regretted not aborting me—”
“Emmy, I wrote that thing over ten years ago. And I told you, that was before I had you. Once I had you I was glad I didn’t do it. I’ve told you that.”
“Whatever, Mom. You were the one person in the world who was supposed to give a shit about me, and you never did.”
“That’s not true,” she said weakly. “I was troubled. I didn’t understand what I was doing.”
“Fine!” I said. “So say you’re sorry.”
She slowly raised her eyes to mine, then pursed her lips.
I shook my head. I should have known better than to even ask. I started toward the house, then turned back to look at her.
“You wanna know why I left the man I loved to live by myself in a trailer, Mom? Because when someone loves you, the things you do or don’t do... they matter. But I didn’t know how to matter to someone. I had no experience with it. All I knew was that I never, ever wanted to make him feel the way you made me feel. That’s the brilliant legacy of being Lilly Lorraine’s daughter. Maybe that’ll make it into the next memoir.”
Her eyes widened, and her face looked like she’d been slapped, and despite all my efforts to be the New Me, I was glad.
She took a step toward me. “Emmy...”
“For the last fucking time, it’s EJ.” I turned on my heel and headed into the kitchen. I washed and dried my wineglass and put it away, then stalked upstairs to bed without so much as a glance behind me.
“Danny,” my mother said at breakfast the next morning, “would you please pass the syrup?”
Danny glanced at me, his eyebrows knitting a bit. The syrup was closer to me, and I was sitting next to Mom, whereas he was across the table from her. Then his eyes closed in understanding, and he sighed.
“EJ, would you please pass the syrup to your mother?”
I reached for it, but then Mom held up her hand. “Forget it. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want it.”
Jess put her fork down. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” I said.
She looked crestfallen. “What happened? Things were so nice yesterday. Why are you two not talking?”
“Oh, we’re talking,” I said, pouring generous heaps of syrup onto my pancakes, then settling the syrup dish just outside of Mom’s reach. “Just apparently not to each other.”
“I’m perfectly happy to talk to my daughter,” Mom said, turning up the wattage on her smile. “How are you this morning, Emmy?”
I folded my arms and rested my elbows on the edge of the table. “Just fine, Shelley. And you?”
Her lips thinned into a tight line. “That’s not funny.”
I grinned. “It’s actually funnier than you’d think. And since you insist on calling me by a name I don’t like, I figured I’d do the same.” I pulled my arms back and stabbed at my bacon. “Shelley.”
She slammed her fork down and looked at Danny. “She said we should put off the wedding! She said that marrying me was going to kill you!”
I held up my hand. “Okay, now that is some seriously revisionist history—”
“She said that marrying me was too much stress, and that you were sick because of me!”
“Again, not what I said!”
“Enough!” Danny stood up and put both hands on the table. His large frame loomed over us, and I don’t know about Mom, but I sure felt like a ten-year-old again.
“I am a man in his sixties who likes his cigars and his whiskey,” he said. “It is a damned miracle I haven’t had any health problems so far. If either of you thinks that one or the other of you is enough to send me over the edge, then you have no appreciation for the grand specimen of virility that stands before you. Now, I don’t mind if you fight, as a matter of fact, I find it damned amusing, but don’t use me as a bat to hit each other with. It’s one thing I won’t have.”
Mom and I muttered vague words of apology at Danny, and he nodded.
“Okay, then.” He looked at me. “Your mother and I are getting married tomorrow, and then we’re going to Italy. If you can drum up the strength to keep your unpopular opinions to yourself for the next thirty-six hours, I’d appreciate it.”
I nodded. Mom let out a little self-satisfied sigh, drawing Danny’s attention to her.
“And you,” he said. “If she says that’s not what she meant, then take her word and let it go. Hell, if I got wound up over every stupid thing my boys have said to me, there wouldn’t be time in the day for me to get any work done.”
Mom’s smirk faded and Danny sat down. We ate in silence for a moment, then Mom put her fork down and turned toward me.
“Em—” she started, then began again. “EJ, I had a lovely time shopping with you yesterday. You were pleasant and funny and you made great conversation.”
I glanced up at her. Her eyes were lit like neon signs screaming, Your turn!
I dabbed my napkin at the corner of my mouth and angled myself toward her in my seat.
“Thank you,” I said. “These pancakes are delicious. You are a wonderful cook.”
“Thank you.”
We stared at each other with forced smiles.
Danny winked at Jess.
“Eat up, sweetheart,” he said. “To deal with these two, you’re going to need your strength.”
My father abandoned us before I was born. My mother was a shrill stage mother who spent most of my money, then died in a car wreck when I was sixteen. I’m not making a point of this because I want anyone to feel sorry for me. Quite the opposite. From these two, I learned the value of independence at a very young age. It may be an ugly truth, but it’s a truth: Needing people is what creates all the misery in this world. At first the people you love and need might seem to make you happy, but happiness is like milk—eventually, no matter what you do, it spoils. And spoiled milk is no good for anyone.
—from Twinkie and Me, The Real Life Confessions of Lilly Lorraine
Thirteen
“Okay,” Jess said, angling her head a little to the side as she surveyed our handiwork. There was sawdust in her hair and on her cheek. “What do we think?”
“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but I think it’s pretty cool.”
And it was. We’d surveyed the study and come up with a design that was half reading table, half bookcase. The bookcase part was about two and a half feet tall, with two shelves back-to-back, facing outward—a mini his-and-hers mini-bookcase, essentially. Then we’d bought a nice plank of oak, beveled the edges, sanded it within an inch of its life, and attached it on top to create the table part. We’d drilled a hole at the back of the oak into which we were going to install a double goose-necked lamp after w
e stained the wood. It looked pretty neat, actually, and I regretted not taking Jess up on her original offer to build me one.
“Mmmmmm,” she hummed. “I don’t know. Something’s missing.”
I stared at it for a moment. “The stain. The lamp.”
“No,” she said. “Something personal. It’s not personal enough.”
“You can personalize a bookshelf?”
“Oh, sure. You paint it a certain color, or put designs on it. Sometimes a little stencil detail on the sides...” She tapped her foot for a minute. “There’s some paint in the cabinet back there...”
“I thought we were going to stain it,” I said, motioning toward the can in the corner. “That’s what that’s for, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, unsure. “It’s just... I don’t know. It’s missing something.”
“Well, we’ve got to stain it. We can’t paint oak. Danny will kill us both.”
She hummed thoughtfully, tapping her index finger on her lips. “It’s definitely missing something.”
“I don’t think so. It’s measured to fit right between the two reading chairs in the study. That’s personal.”
“Mmmmm, maybe, but...” Jess paused, tapping her index finger on her chin. “I just really want it to be special, you know? People like your mom and Danny, they should have special things.”
I watched her as she stared at the bookcase, her mind working so hard to get it just right and perfect. I’d been so wrapped up in my own crap that I’d barely noticed how much this seemed to matter to her.
“Thank you,” I said quickly. “I mean, you’re really going above and beyond here, even for an angel.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “But you know, I’m happy to do it. I like your family.”
“They like you, too,” I said, and was surprised to see tears in her eyes when she turned to me and said, “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I said the wrong thing. What’d I say? I was trying to be appreciative, you know, to notice other people. How’d I screw it up?”
She laughed and swiped at her eyes. “By not knowing that sometimes, how people react isn’t about you.” She smiled brightly. “I’m okay. It’s just been really nice, being here. It’s been a long time since I’ve feel like part of—”
The door opened, cutting her off, and we both shouted, “Don’t come in!” but Digs poked his head around the workshop door anyway.
“Don’t worry,” he said, stepping inside. “I’m used to women screaming when I walk into a room.”
Jess laughed, a little too much, and I glanced at her. Her freckled cheeks were slightly rosier than usual, and her eyes sparkled.
At Digs.
Oh, crap.
“Nice job,” Digs said, kneeling down by the bookcase to get a closer look. He ran his hands along the smooth oak and gave us both approving glances as he stood up again. “Really nice job.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He took another step back and angled his head. “It’s missing something.”
“See?” Jess gave me a gentle smack on the arm. “Even Digs sees it.”
“What do you mean, ‘even Digs?’” he said. “I’m sensitive. I have the soul of an artist.”
I crossed my arms over my stomach. “What’s it missing, then, Soul Train?”
Digs stepped closer, examined the shelf from one side, and then the other. “That naked girl silhouette that’s on all the mud flaps. You can put one on each side.” He straightened up and grinned at us. “Lilly’ll love it.”
Jess giggled. She actually giggled, and at the same time seemed totally unaware that she was quite obviously smitten with Digs. It occurred to me that I should warn her; Digs was a lot of great things, but a safe bet was not one of them, and Jess seemed the settle-down-and-have-babies type. It was disaster waiting to happen.
“We had some permit issues on the worksite today,” Digs said, “which means another afternoon of hemorrhaging money on the worst investment of my life. I figured the best thing to get my mind off all the money I’m losing is the company of a beautiful woman.” He winked at Jess. “So what do you say?”
“Oh, brother,” I muttered.
Jess giggled again.
Digs ignored me. “I was thinking maybe I’d finally take you to that thingy museum we were talking about.”
“Oh,” Jess said, glancing at me. “You wanna go to the thingy museum, EJ?”
I was opening my mouth to say, “Sure,” when Digs subtly reached behind Jess and pinched my arm.
“Hey!” I said.
He widened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. Don’t cramp my style.
I widened my eyes and raised my eyebrows. Don’t mess with my angel.
He gave me an indignant look. Who? Me? Never.
I sighed. Get out of line, I’ll kick your ass.
“Um... do you two want a moment alone to talk?” Jess asked.
“No,” I said. “I’m gonna sit here with the bookshelf, try to figure out what’s missing. You guys go ahead to the thingy museum. Although, Jess, you’re probably gonna wanna...” I gestured toward the sawdust on her face, and she laughed.
“Oh, do I have...?”
Digs touched her chin, angling her face so he could check her out, then lightly brushed the sawdust off with his fingers.
“Should I go maybe get cleaned up first?” she asked.
“No way,” he said. “Sawdust adds to your charm.”
She smiled, and that cinched it for me; the girl was smitten. I mentally planned to have a talk with her as soon as she got back.
“So, what was the thingy museum again?” she asked as Digs put his hand on the small of her back and led her out. “Was it trains?”
“Now, what’s the fun if I ruin the surprise?” Digs said, opening the door for her. “It’s got the best thingy exhibit you’ve ever seen, though, I’ll tell you that.”
“Stop saying ‘thingy,’” I shouted after them. “It’s starting to sound dirty and you’re hurting my brain.”
They laughed and slipped out, and I settled on the shop floor, staring at the bookshelf, trying to figure out what, if anything, was missing. I thought about Mom and Danny. They’d known each other forever, but had lived such different lives. They had been bonded by their childhood, and later, by me, but it occurred to me I knew next to nothing about their recent history. I also had to keep in mind that I was limited to my own artistic abilities, which were... well... limited. I started rummaging around in the boxes Danny kept from old projects, hoping some material might inspire me. Most of it was stuff like PVC piping and extra bricks from the patio, but then I opened a box full of a mix of colored glass and white ceramic tiles left over from the year he’d re-done the upstairs bathroom. I’d helped him with that project, and had accidentally broken so many tiles that he’d snapped up a bunch more at the store, just in case they ran out before the bathroom was done. I smiled and sat down with the box, my fingers tracing lazily over the tiles as I remembered how much fun I used to have doing stuff like that with Danny and the boys. At the time, I’d always seen myself as helping out of obligation to this family that had taken me in for no other reason than just to be kind. Now, I realized that I enjoyed it, and had missed it living in a big hunk of metal that afforded no real opportunities for home improvement. I held up one of the glass tiles, stained a light purple, and held it up, looking through it at the window.
Then, the idea hit me. It wasn’t brilliant. As a matter of fact, it was a little dull from all the sentiment and overindulgence and it would probably turn out badly, anyway. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew in my gut how much they would both appreciate it. Especially Mom.
And, it was the kind of thing a thoughtful person with courage would do. Plus, I realized with a sudden spark of enthusiasm, it would mean I wasn’t giving up on this New Me idea, which was also important, because the idea of dragging my same old sorry ass back to that Airstream made it a little hard to br
eathe. I’d been avoiding all of this for so long, I wanted some kind of consolation prize for finally facing it all. My ass could still be sorry at the end of all this, but I needed it to be a different sorry ass.
Of course, those were selfish reasons, but jeez. Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?
So, decision made, I pushed myself up from the floor, brushed off my jeans, and got started.
I was in the driveway, almost finished scouring all the stain and paint and skin off my hands using a deadly combination of Danny’s tub o’ Goop and the cold-water garden hose, when Luke’s silver Prius pulled into the driveway. I hustled to the spout, shut off the hose, and tried to be discreet about tugging at the back of my cut-off shorts to make sure they weren’t riding up in the back, as they had a tendency to do.
“Hey,” I said, trying to smile.
“Hey.” He stopped a few feet away from me. He was wearing a suit, which was acceptable, because it was Thursday, but I was encouraged to see that his hair was not as neatly combed as always. As a matter of fact, the ends were curling out a bit, the way they used to.
He looked good. He looked familiar, like Luke, and my arms ached with wanting to throw themselves around his neck and never let go.
But that would be inappropriate, so I stood frozen where I was.
“Are Dad and Lilly...?” he asked, gesturing toward the house.
“Oh. Yeah. They’re in the study, going over the plans for the party tomorrow. Mom keeps calling it a reception, but, I mean, it’s really just us, right?”
He nodded, but his brows twitched together a bit, and then he opened his mouth and closed it again, and it occurred to me that maybe I’d assumed too much.
“I mean, just us and dates,” I said quickly. “Not that I have a date, but Digs has a date. You know. Jess. And I don’t know if you... actually...”
Oh god oh god he’s dating he’s in love with someone else and I have to watch them goggle at each other oh hell how do I turn and puke in the bushes without him noticing?
A Little Ray Of Sunshine Page 14
