The room grows quiet and everyone bows their heads, waiting for my dad to say his usual grace. “Good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat.”
“Amen.”
Forks and knives clatter as the eating commences. I have a sip of my pinot grigio and sit back for a moment, trying not to think about how well Liam and Olive would fit in here in this room, or how much my grandma would love both of them. I try not to think of Liam winning Tammy over with his charm or Chad over with his quick wit. And I definitely don’t think about having him sit next to me with our arms touching while we eat, or him leaning in to whisper some private joke in my ear at some point during the meal.
Instead, I watch my parents as they lovingly observe their youngest grandson and trade ‘isn’t he perfect’ looks. I realize that this moment, right now—having us all in the house together—is probably the closest my parents ever get to pure bliss. They’re both lit up with wonder and awe for all the things the kids are doing at school and the funny things they say, and they keep glancing around and beaming at each of us in turn.
Chad is to my left. He gives me a bump on the shoulder. “You look deep in thought.”
I smile. “I was just thinking about how your children have managed to turn our parents into people I don’t recognize. They’re patient. And happy. Do you remember that from when we were kids?”
He laughs. “No, I do not. Last Sunday, Graham dropped an entire bowl of spaghetti on the white rug in the living room and when I got mad about it, Mom actually told me to ‘take a chill pill, Chad. He’s just a little boy.’”
“That didn’t happen.” I shake my head. “Not our mom.”
“True story. She even gave him some ice cream to make him feel better about it.”
“No, she didn’t,” I say.
“She did. Swear to God.”
“Wow. It’s like your children have literally cast a spell on them.”
My dad narrows his eyes at us, meaning he must have picked up on bits of our conversation. “What are you two knuckleheads talking about?”
“How patient and kind you are since you became a grandfather,” I answer.
Chad and I burst out laughing, and I’m glad to be home.
* * *
For the next week, my mom drags me to visit every family friend we’ve ever had, breaking only to stop at the outlet stores so I can ‘update my wardrobe now that I’m almost thin again.’ I don’t even mind, actually. It keeps me too busy during the day to think about my fight with Liam, or the fact that when I go back to South Haven, it’ll be to get Walt, pack my things, and spend the rest of my life pretending I was never there.
With any luck and a lot of time, I won’t wonder if Liam is still alive, or worry what has become of Olive. They’ll fade into the distance in my mind, two strangers I knew for a little while. As much as I wish I had it in me to be there for them, I know without a doubt it will kill me this time.
My mom and I have just left House of Vintage, my favorite clothing store outside New York. Our arms are loaded down with all our finds. We hurry outside into the cold, light rain, and drop everything into the trunk of my mom’s Accord. She starts up the car, turns to me, and says, “We have a couple of hours before I need to get home and make dinner. Starbucks?”
“Sure.”
I stare out the window as she winds her way through the busy streets. The entire world seems overcast, except for the Christmas lights that are already out in full force downtown.
“You’re quiet today,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, giving her a relaxed smile. “Nothing a shot of caffeine won’t cure.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” she says, signaling to indicate a left turn into the parking lot.
“I’m just a little tired. All that shopping.”
“Please don’t mistake my patience for stupidity. You suddenly show up with no explanation. You don’t mention Liam or Olive even once,” she says. “I was always good at math, Abigail.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I can add two and two.”
“There was an irresistible seat sale and my mother taught me to never pass up a bargain.”
“Abby,” she says in a warning tone. Then, switching gears, she attempts to sound like we’re just a couple of girlfriends out on the town. “I promise not to tell you what to do. I’ll just listen.”
