The photo of his biological parents had slipped out of his hand and was next to him on the bed. He got up and tucked it carefully into an internal compartment of his suitcase. Then he brushed his teeth again, splashed cool water on his face and went downstairs. From the hallway he could hear his father snoring. He found his mother in the den, sitting on the couch surrounded by tissues and tearfully watchingBarefoot In The Park.
Nora looked up when he came in, paused the movie and dabbed her eyes with the tissue in her hand. “Sorry,” she gasped.
“Sorry for what, crying? Don’t be, I think I was crying in my sleep.”
She shook her head in dismay. Robert Redford’s frozen face, mid-aggravated expression, loomed over them from the TV.
Carver checked his phone and saw it was thirty minutes after midnight. “Any idea where my wife is?”
“Josie told me that when the wedding ended, she left with some of Letty’s friends to party at a second location.”
“Got it.” He nodded. “I guess I had that coming. Where are Chip and Conway?”
“At the actual, official afterparty… the one the brides are throwing.”
“Where?”
“Karaoke bar.”
“When did Bitterfeld get a karaoke bar?”
“We didn’t. They took a party bus to Yonkers.”
Carver scrolled through his notifications and saw nothing from Lillian. Instead he saw he’d missed several calls from Scott a few hours ago, then gotten a text from him, then missed several more calls about forty minutes later. “Why was Scott calling me over and over?”
Nora blew her nose. “He came here looking for you.”
“What? When?”
“A few hours ago, when you were asleep. I gave him his things and sent him to Josie’s.”
“Mom, come on.”
“‘Come on’ what? I don’t care how old you are, Carver, you’re not going to have adulterous relations with men under my roof and then make me continue to host them as if nothing happened.”
“After what you told me tonight, you can’t cut me some slack?”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“The fuck,” Carver exhaled in exasperation, leaning against the doorway. “Well, what did he say?”
“He was concerned about you,” Nora said dully. “He was being pushy and irritating. He saw the holes you made in the wall, which of course he was alarmed by.”
“What didyousay?”
“I said it was none of his business and to shoo.”
Carver walked away down the hall. His mother waited a moment, then followed him.
“Are you going over there?” she said as he grabbed his sneakers from the closet and slid them on.
“Yes,” Carver snapped, yanking the laces tight. His right hand still ached a little. “Why?”
“I just want to know where you’re going. Are you going to tell him about tonight?”
“Probably, Mom, yes.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
