Jamie couldn’t tell if that was sarcastic or not.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Everything Jamie had rehearsed until now fell apart. Was this how Etta felt talking to her mother growing up?What do you say to a woman like this? Is there any way to please her… to impress her?Jamie always got the feeling that Etta’s mother was unimpressed by the billions. She didn’t even want to accept a penny. Out of pride? Probably.
Jamie knew their evening with Etta’s mother would be quiet, but she didn’t expect the total silent treatment as they ate their pot roast dinners and settled in to watch crime shows on TV. Jamie sat next to Etta on the couch while Anne took up her stoic stance in an armchair, hands folded on her stomach as she grumbled about incompetent detectives and how “that doesn’t work in real life.” She had read it in an article.
Etta didn’t seem bothered by this, for it was probably her mother’s usual behavior. Jamie, on the other hand, almost craved her parents’ antics compared to this. At least they were alive.
After the latest rerun ofCSI: Miami, Etta and her mother went out back to take in the warm night. Or, at least, that’s what most women would have assumed. By now, Jamie knew it wasn’t old times transpiring back there. Worst of all? The kitchen window was still open, so she could hear almost every word they said as it filtered through the screen.
“We would really appreciate you coming to the wedding, Mom,” Etta said. “I’ll take care of everything. You’d like the garden at my place, anyway. Looks like that one you used to take me to on the weekends when we lived in Lothsborough. That’s where we’re getting married. The garden, that is. NotLothsborough.”
“I was gonna say, anyone could do better than that dump of a town.”
Etta sighed. “You don’t have to make a decision right now, but…”
“I’m not going.”
“I thought as much.”
“Why would I want to leave here? Here is fine. I don’t need to see your fancy things to know they’re there.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about me getting married.”
“I’m sure there will be others to attend if I feel up to it.”
“Other what? Weddings?” Etta was losing her patience already. “I would hope you give my fiancée the benefit of the doubt. She’s not like that.”
“That’s what we all say, girl. You’re young. Sue me for assuming. I saw that girl.”
“That ‘girl’ is my fiancée.”
“So you’ve said a dozen times.”
“Which means there’s no need to insult her. She can probably hear you.”You have no idea, Etta.
“Why would I hide what I have to say? Do you want me to tell you that she’s pretty? Yes, girl, she’s pretty. You have good taste when it comes to looks. I’ll say that much.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I’m fine with that. You’re the only rich person I need to know.”
“She’s not rich.”
“Either way… whether she’s rich or Cinderella… it doesn’t matter.”
“You know that neighborhood we lived in up north? The one with the drug dealers and the rats in the cupboards? That’s where she was living when I met her. She grew up in some small town out in the countryside. I’d trust her with my life.”
Jamie had heard enough.No matter how much she defends me, her mother won’t care.Maybe it was complete indifference on Anne’s part. Or maybe she was so cynical that any woman Etta married was merely a starter wifethat wasn’t worth getting to know.Would she feel the same way about any kids I had with Etta?
At the very least, Anne didn’t care that she and Etta shared the couch bed without wedding rings on their fingers. It was the most uncomfortable bed she had ever slept on since her shitty apartment in the city, but at least it was with Etta, who wore nothing but underwear and a cotton shirt as she climbed beneath an afghan and sighed against a couch pillow. At least she was quick to fall asleep.
Jamie remained wide awake, listening to the sounds of South Carolina around her. Windows were still open, and a machine hummed in the closed bedroom where Anne slept. These sounds weren’t what kept her awake, however. It was the dull ache in her heart. The one that said even Etta’s remnants of a family didn’t accept her, because they thought she was a transient first wife who could be forgotten one day.
“God fucking damnit,” cursed Anne in the bedroom. “These pieces of shit never work…”
Etta continued to sleep steadily. Jamie sat up, threading her hair through her fingers and wondering if she should go to the bathroom for the hundredth time that night.
“How young do they think I am? This wasn’t even this difficult in the ‘80s…”
