by Dylan Allen
He smiles. “You, too.” And then, he presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek and wraps an arm around her waist and looks down at her fondly.
“Penn has been going nuts all week. She’s been cooking for days and talking about you nonstop.”
He’s smiling like nothing is wrong, but I feel… rejected. I dart a glance at Penn and don’t miss the pained expression on her face before she clears it and smiles at me.
We’re saved from the awkward moment by the elevator’s ding. We all turn and as the door opens to reveal Nadia and the man she was with the night of the award ceremony.
He’s wearing a bow tie, a little less sedate than the brightly colored one he wore that night. I wonder if that’s his signature look.
His slightly square demeanor is tarnished by the hair mussed and sticking up all over his head and the hot pink smudges around his mouth that are the same color as what’s left of Nadia’s bright lipstick.
Her white blouse is untucked, her jeans partially unzipped.
Nadia, oblivious to the way they look sees me and her eyes widen with unrestrained glee.
“Oh my God. You came,” she shrieks and runs toward me.
“From the looks of it, you just did, too,” Jack’s dry drawl from behind me surprises me and I jump and turn to see him leaning at the kitchen counter, his expression as dry as his voice, his smile as shallow and fleeting as I remember from the night I met him in Winsome.
I turn back just as Nadia reaches me and throws her arms around me.
“This is going to be epic,” she says and then extends a hand behind her without turning mourned. “Ry, come let me introduce you.” She wiggles her fingers at her man and he smiles gamely and starts toward us.
“You might want to find a mirror, Ryan,” Jack’s bored drawl has Ryan stopping and looking the mirror as he passes. He expression widens in horror as he sees what he looks like. We all laugh while he runs a frantic, smoothing hand over his hair and wipes furiously at the lipstick on his chin.
“Your sister is wild. I can’t take her anywhere. I did my rounds with lipstick on my collar every single day last week,” he says without a hint of complaint and then comes to stand next to Nadia, smiling like the cat who got the cream as he slips a hand around her waist and pulls her into him.
Nadia flushes with delight and snuggles into him. “You should stop being so hot and then I could maybe keep my hands off you.”
Ryan looks at me and Joe, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, I’m not making a good first impression. I promise I’m not a nympho who goes around mauling my girlfriend in public. You can trust me. I’m a doctor,” he says jokingly and we all laugh again.
“I’m Joe. I’m a retired florist, and you can trust me, too.”
“I’m Beth, I’m … an artist,” I say testing out my new title.
“Oh, don’t leave out the most important part,” Jack drawls lazily.
His tone is benign enough, but there’s something in the way his eyes move between Carter and me makes my blood run cold.
“What else is there?” Carter asks his voice several degrees frostier than it had been a minute ago. His sage green eyes, which were warm a few minutes ago are now dark with warning.
“That she’s your sister, of course,” Jack says.
My stomach drops to my toes and my eyes follow its trajectory. I pray for the world to open itself and swallow me whole.
“What’d he say?” Joe asks.
I close my eyes, and am mortified when hot tears spill out.
“Jack, shut up. I mean it,” Penn snaps. And I can’t bring myself to look at anyone.
“Why? Is it a secret? I don’t understand,” Jack asks, his eyes wide and bemused as he looks around at the expressions that range from discomfort to gob smacked confusion.
If his innocence is feigned, then he’s a really good actor.
“You’re an asshole,” Porsha says, her voice low and dripping with anger.
I put an hand on her arm, as visions of flying pumpkins candle holders flash in my mind.
He whips his head to the left and peers at her. “Sorry, who are you?”
“Not a fan any longer. That’s for sure,” she says tightly.
Nadia lets out a low whistle.
“Wow, that’s a record Jack. People usually need at least ten minutes before they realize you’re only nice on tv,” Nadia snaps at him.
“I’m sorry, is anyone going to explain what he means?” Joe asks his voice louder than it needs to be and a queasy heaviness makes my stomach feel like it’s in free fall.
“There’s nothing to explain. Jack is an asshole,” Carter says, his voice dripping with hurt, I look over at him and his jaw clenched and a muscle in his cheek jumps. His arms are crossed and he’s glaring at his brother.
But I can’t brush this under the carpet and if we’re going to stay, I need to explain.
“Joe?” I walk over to where he’s standing and reach out a hand for his.
I release the breath I’m holding when he takes it right away.
“What’s going on, princess?” he asks in his kind way.
I look around the room and find everyone’s eyes trained on me.
“Joe, I think you’re the only here who don’t know…”
“Uh, no, Ryan doesn’t, I figured it was your story to tell,” Nadia pipes up.
Resignation settles like an albatross on my shoulders and I nod in acceptance of what I’m about to do.
“Last summer, Carter…” My throat closes around the words and my swallow is embarrassingly audible. “Carter and I found that we have the same father. Before we found that out, we’d—” My throat convulses again and I can’t think of the words to describe what we’d been before everything fell apart.
“We’d been involved,” Carter says his voice clipped. I look over at him expecting him to look as hard as he sounds. But from the look on his face, he could be talking about what he ate for breakfast.
“When we discovered the truth, we went our separate ways. But Beth isn’t my sister. That’s a relationship that develops with time and intent.” There’s no warmth in his voice, and I try not to take it personally. This is an impossibly awkward moment.
“But, she’s the best friend I’ve ever had. And so, that makes her family.”
I look at him, grateful and yet so sad because I can hear the heartbreak in his voice as clearly as I could the day we said goodbye in that church.
“Life is so fucking unfair,” Joe says suddenly. His voice is thick with emotion and his hand is gripping mine so tight, it hurts. When I look into his eyes, the anguish I see there steals my breath. He’s not a stoic man, but I’ve never seen him cry.
“Joe, it’s okay. We’re okay…”
“No princess, it’s not. I haven’t told you the truth, either.” His voice breaks and alarm grips me.
I look over at Porsha to find her watching him, her expression guarded rather than sympathetic. I’m confused by her lack of emotion, she loves Joe as much as I do. But, I don’t have time to wonder what that’s about. I turn back to Joe and reach up to wipe away the tear that trailing down his cheek.
“It’s okay. Whatever’s wrong, you can tell me,” I say the words that Carter said to me on the day I told him the thing I was most afraid to say.
Joe takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Five years ago, I ran over my seven year old son with my delivery truck.”
A collective gasp ripples round the room. My heart quakes in my chest, but I don’t make a sound. The depth of his pain is on full display as he looks at me, fear and loathing war with a plea for understanding. It’s hard to see him look like that.
But, I don’t take my eyes off Joe, because he’s looking at me like I’m his lifeline as he talks.
“He ran out into the driveway. I didn’t see him. He wasn’t there when I got in the car. He was so little,” his voice is a tortured whisper, and his eyes lose their focus for a minute. His grip on my hand tightens. The room i
s silent and I realize that someone has turned off the music.
“I drove this big truck that I used for deliveries for my shop. I didn’t even realize I’d hit him until I got to the end of the driveway and saw him lying in front of my car. I realized that what I thought was one of the toys he used to leave in the driveway, was actually him. He was broken. And he died before the ambulance came. The police didn’t charge me. My insurance paid out the policy limits, but little Trevor was gone. He was the light of my life, and I killed him.” Joes voice is a kaleidoscope of grief, anger and resignation. But he’s not crying. His eyes are burning into mine like he’s waiting for me to connect the dots.
His son.
My heart plummets to my toes.
“Oh my God. But… the son whose calls and visits you’re always waiting on… Is that another one?” I ask, even though I already know.
“We only had the one boy.” He drops his head as if keep it up right was too much for him.
“Oh, Joe…” is all I can manage because my lungs won’t work.
“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t hurt my knee in an accident. I drove my car off a bridge in Delaware. I wanted to die. But I didn’t. My wife, my ex-wife, Shannon - she won’t have anything to do with me. I don’t blame her.” His eyes hold the kind of despair I understand… you’ve accepted something, but you would give anything to change it.
My heart rages and weeps for him. The arbitrary and indiscriminate cruelty of life is so hard to understand. This man wouldn’t hurt a fly. He lost a child he loved. For the first time in a long time, I think of my father. How he has abused neglected every single of of his children, even after he’d experienced the pain of losing one.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper and cup his face duck a little so that I can see his eyes. The torment in them makes me want to cry. He covers my hands with his, pulls them off his cheeks, but holds them tightly.
“I’m sorry I lied to you. I hate myself for it. I moved back here to start fresh where no one knew what happened. I pretend he’s somewhere else. Because I can’t bear to be alive everyday if I think of him dead.”
“Oh Joe.” My heart is a tender, undercooked piece of meat I’ve long stopped trying to control. But, today I wish I could do something to stop the hurt I’m feeling. To be able to do something to make my friend feel better.
Ryan clears his throat.“Um, my real name is Happiness,” his words sound like a confession and I turn to where Nadia’s sitting and see that it’s not news to her.
“Talk about a misnomer,” Jack says under his breath, and Nadia shoots him a withering glare.
“My father is dead, my brother is in jail for killing him during one of their drunken rages. But I only know that because I read it in the paper. I ran away from home when I was a teenager and left my sister who was just a little girl and mom alone with my father who was an abusive alcoholic. I changed my name and I haven’t spoken to my family in almost twenty years. I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to reach out to my sister. But, I’m so ashamed of how I abandoned her I didn’t think I had the right. Beth, it was that speech you gave last week gave me the courage to tell Nadia. I was scared, but I knew she was the right person.”
“Oh, Ryan…” Nadia breathes admiration shining in her eyes.
She steps into him and he wraps an arm around her.
“I’d forgotten what honesty, forgiveness and mercy looked like until you brought me into your fold. And it’s given me the courage to try again. I love you.” He smiles around at all of us.
Joe lets go of my hands and I turn to find him staring at the floor.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He won’t look up at me. “I’m sorry if I messed up your Thanksgiving. I know what I did was unforgivable.”
“Of course it is forgivable. But that has to start with you,” I say fiercely and look at Porsha for help. She’s staring blankly, like she’s in a trance.
“Listen up,” Penn orders in a loud voice that gets everyone’s attention.
“None of us here have pretty stories. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve the love and companionship in this room. Today is Thanksgiving. Let’s just be grateful,” She comes to stand in front of me and Joe and holds out a hand to each of us. I only hesitate of a beat before I take it.
“DNA doesn’t bind us. Love does. It’s easy to forget because for most of us, the families we’re born into is our first experience with relationships. But it’s the relationships we choose that define us. I’m sorry you’ve gone through so much,” she says to Joe.
“You can’t do a thing to change it. Yes, your wife couldn’t hack and she left you. But we won’t. I promise. Because that’s the choice we’re making.” “Let’s do this every year, okay?” Nadia squeezes Ryan’s waist and he drops a kiss on her lips.
My eyes, like they have a will of their own turn to Carter. He’s watching them, too. And he looks as miserable as I feel.
This is Killing Me
BETH
The dinner we ate is as nontraditional as the gathering of people around the table. Instead of a turkey, Penn served a whole roast leg of lamb, with potatoes that had been cooked until they were crisp on the outside, but sweet and creamy on the inside. The buttery green peas were sautéed in onions and garlic, swimming in a mint sauce that I helped Penn make.
We’ve demolished it and now sit gathered around her exquisitely laid table, complete with full place settings, trying to recover from our food comas before moving on to desert.
“Is this Royal Doulton 1815?” Porsha asks, holding her dinner plate up so she can see the bottom. She gasps, reverent awe in her eyes, “Oh my God it is,” she sighs, dreamily and strokes the bottom of the plate.
“Yes, it was a wedding gift.”
“I can’t believe I ate on it. This is discontinued.”
“Oh is your Sugar Daddy a collector of fine crockery?” Jack asks, swirling the amber liquid in the small glass. He’s been nursing the same drink all night. I don’t think he’s taken a sip.
He and Porsha have been at each other’s throats all night. But rather than it being uncomfortable, it’s been interesting.
It’s also a welcome distraction from the growing tension and distance between Carter and me. He’s barely said a word to me and we haven’t made eye contact all night.
“Let’s move to the living room, I can’t sit up anymore and I want to finish hearing about the award you got Beth,” Penn say, standing.
We all follow her lead.
“It’s the first award I’ve ever been given,” I say.
“You should have seen Beth’s speech, Mom. It was goosebumps city when she pulled that wig off. It was a triumph.” Nadia’s effusive praise makes me flush.
“The only thing that’s triumphant about me is the button on my skirt. I can’t believe it’s holding after everything I’ve eaten today,” I groan and flop into the corner of the huge plush light grey sectional that takes up the center of his mother’s huge open plan living area.
“Stop being modest. I can’t believe that talent was hiding from the world in Texas. Thank God you came to New York. You’re about to blow up, I hope you’re ready,” Nadia says excitedly.
“Nadia, that’s not what she wants,” Carter reproaches his sister. He’s sitting diagonally across from me, his eyes on his phone. Just like it’s been all night. I’m getting sick of his talking around me, about me, but not to me.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind,” I correct him and he looks up. He looks startled when we make eye contact and looks away quickly.
I stifle my sigh of frustration and turn back to Nadia.
“The fame or notoriety I can do without, but to have the chance to paint for a living, I’d love it. It was a dream when I was a kid. I work two jobs and only teach that class on Saturday mornings, but I would love to be able to teach more and paint more. Also, I know people like looking at my art, but have no idea if anyone would actually want to buy it.”
&n
bsp; “I’d pay for a portrait. In fact, I would love to be your first commission,” Nadia says.
I wave her off. “You don’t have to pay me. I’d love to paint you.”
“Oh my God, you need to stop giving your art away. Let me be your patron. I’m made of money. My advisor told me to make a budget…and I was like, why?” She rolls her eyes and pops an olive into her mouth.
Penn drops her head into her hands with a loud groan. “Oh Nadia, what am I going to do with you?”
Nadia’s eyebrows draw together. “What? It’s true. I mean, Forbes told the whole world how much money I made last year, so it’s not like it’s a secret.”
“Well, then how about you take some of that money and go down to Momufuku and get some of that Crack Pie,” Ryan drawls and comes to standing. I find their pairing so wonderful. Talk about opposites attracting. He has barely taken his eyes off her all night. And she can’t keep her hands off him.
“I don’t know how you stay so fit with the way you eat,” Nadia grumbles but takes his outstretched hand with a smile on her face.
“Anybody else want a slice?” Nadia asks the group.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Only the most delicious pie in the world,” Nadia gushes. “It’s just sugar and butter and salt and flour all gooey and delicious and addictive.”
“It was Lorin’s favorite,” Penn says, her eyes dancing as if she’s remembering something wonderful. “Get a whole one, Nad, I’ll make tea.”
They say their goodbyes, but by the time they get to the elevator, it’s clear the rest of us have disappeared.
“Is Chai okay?” Penn asks and stands to head to the kitchen.
“Oh, yes, I’d love some,” I say.
“She painted me,” Carter says, his voice is flat, but has a combative edge. Everyone turns to look at him. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, he’s leaning back, his phone in front of his face.
I prickle of unease makes my throat dry.
“She did?” Penn asks, sounding intrigued.
He nods, without looking up. “It’s how I knew it was her work when I saw Hetal’s portrait. It’s why I have a blue piano…that was all Beth’s doing.” He looks up now, and his eyes are blazing, bloodshot, as if he’s been crying, but dry. Ugh, this is terrible. He’s miserable with me here.
