Of course she would say that.
Mom forged ahead, oblivious to my irritation. “I seem to remember that you spent the entireGreaseaudition crushing my hand and tapping your foot and then threw up afterward.”
My face flushed hot. “No need to remind me.”
“When the drama teacher suggested that you play Sandy, you ran to the bathroom to hide because you didn’t want to tell her no, but you were scared half to death to do it.”
“Mom. I was sixteen. I’m older now. Can you just support me on this?” My words came out harsher than I’d intended because I didn’t need her to embarrass me in front of my friends. They didn’t know about painfully shy teenage Vivian. They didn’t know that, in some ways, I owed my father a thank-you note because his not showing up that night eventually gave me a new attitude: no need to avoid things because I was afraid of his opinion.
And Mom should’ve figured that out by now.
“Fine,” she said softly. “I’ll go.”
I turned to Abi.
“Nope.”
“Abi, please. I know you can sing.”
She picked up her knitting from her bag. “Of course I can sing. That doesn’t mean I want to do it in front of complete strangers.”
“What if I get a private room?”
She sighed deeply and paused in her knitting, obviously weighing her love for me against this thing she did not want to do. “If it’s a private room, then I’ll at least go. As long as Zeke can stay home with the boys.”
Odd. They were old enough to fend for themselves, but whatever.
“Where are we going?” asked Rachel as she approached with her chair.
“Karaoke tomorrow night!” I said, my spirits buoyant at this thing I was going to do for myself.
“Cool! I’ll go.”
I loved Rachel so much in that moment. I loved her even more when she produced the wine. Everyone brought out their personalizedtumblers. I had a regular stemless wineglass for Mom, although I was planning to order her a signature Mom Scout tumbler tomorrow.
We nibbled on Cheez-Its and drank wine, enjoying the crisp October air. My fingers played with the edge of the folder. Finally, I said, “I suppose I should get this over with.”
Abi nodded.
I opened the folder to see a picture of my husband and one of his receptionists, both wearing scrubs and walking hand in hand. Wait.
“Let me see that!” Rachel said. She snatched the picture from me and muttered a stream of words in Malayalam.
She’d had the same epiphany only seconds after I did: my husband was having an affair with her younger sister, Tabitha.
I looked down at the second picture in the stack, one of Mitch kissing Tabitha. The third was even worse: their foreheads were touching, and they gazed into each other’s eyes as if no one else in the world existed.
“I’ve seen enough,” I said, closing the folder.
“I haven’t!” Rachel said as she took the folder from me. “I can’t believe her!”
I could.
I remembered only too well the time Tabitha needed a job. Mitch had hired her, even though she didn’t have any qualifications. He’d said, “She only has to answer the phone and put appointments in the calendar. I’m sure she can handle that. I’ll teach her the rest.”
And that was that. I thought my husband was bending over backward to help out our neighbor’s family. Apparently, he’d decided to help himself somewhere along the way.
Rachel looked up at me with agony in her eyes. “Vivian, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I would’ve never—”
