Semele and Macy looked at each other and smiled. How many nights had they eaten at each other’s houses? Growing up, the two had been inseparable.
Helen sat down at the table with a martini in hand. She had already moved on from the wine. Semele frowned, unable to withhold her judgment. Whenever her mother was in a stressful situation, she drank more than usual. It had been that way all her life and had only gotten worse. Even Macy would probably still remember when all the mothers quietly discouraged Helen from driving the kids to French club in high school, because they were worried she would have one too many at the “cultural” dinners. Semele dropped out of the club soon after and never told her mother why.
The three ate in uncomfortable silence. Occasionally Helen called out to Forester, to see if he wanted to join them at the table. Macy assured her he had already eaten.
“So, how have you been, Mom?” Semele knew it was a clumsy attempt at a first step.
“Good! So busy!” She launched into an upbeat spiel about her social calendar, throwing words about like Band-Aids as though they could somehow mend the rift between them. Instead the chatter was just awkward as Helen went on about her bridge group, her book club, and the “marvelous” show she just saw at Yale Repertory Theatre.
When her mother started describing the upcoming Botanical Society tea party she was invited to, Semele poured more wine. She figured she might as well top herself off too at this point.
Helen finally petered out and there was a lull around the table. Semele decided to broach a new subject. “Have you given any more thought to selling the house?”
Helen gave her a sharp look. “Now why would I do that?”
Semele tried to placate her, realizing she had stepped on a hot spot. “Mom, the place is huge. The upkeep… the stairs. It’s a lot of work.”
“I’m not that old yet.”
“You don’t need to be close to the university anymore.”
“This is our home. Why are you so eager for me to sell it?” Helen didn’t try to hide the edge in her voice.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to think I’ll be upset if you wanted to move. I worry about you here all by yourself.”
“Well you could’ve fooled me,” Helen snapped.
Semele rose to the challenge. “You really want to do this now?”
Macy looked from one to the other, afraid to say anything.
“Macy, as you’re well aware, things have been quite strained between me and my daughter lately,” Helen said, finishing her martini and obviously feeling fortified.
“Yes, it seems like you’ve been inviting my friends over a lot to talk about how strained things are.”
“Sem—” Macy hedged.
“Because I’m feeling set up here.”
“I just thought having Macy would be a nice way to make tonight more festive.”
“So you keep saying! And no, you didn’t. You just didn’t want to talk about why I left,” Semele challenged. “You still don’t.”
“Talk? All I’ve been trying to do is talk and you won’t return my calls!” Helen tried to defend herself. “You left without a word, skulking off in the middle of the night.…”
“Skulking! I left because I didn’t want to scream at you right after Dad died!”
“So you abandoned me!”
They were both yelling now. Forester had begun to fuss and Macy went over to distract him.
“You were so high on pills I’m surprised you even noticed.”
“Of course I was on pills! I’d just lost your father!” Helen’s voice broke and tears filled her eyes.
Semele glared at her, a savage part of her satisfied that she was making her mother hurt. “And I didn’t?” she yelled back. “Did you even hear him call out in pain? Or were you too drunk to wake up and dial 911?” Semele was screaming. A volcano had erupted inside her.
Helen broke down and started to sob.
