“No one knows,” I say, brushing him off. “I haven’t even signed the contract.”
But who am I kidding? Obviously, Janey found out, and then she told, well, everyone. Everyone but Joel, it seems. He’s probably got a string of texts from Janey awaiting him on the phone he judiciously set aside for Twister.
The entire room begins to barrage me with simultaneous praise and questions, while Hugh stands aside and looks on, smiling warmly. It strikes me that all the most important people in my world are right here, in Peter and Joel’s living room, together. Well, almost all of them.
How did it happen so fast? How did Luisa and Eli become my friends, my confidants, my real-life partners in crime, and then disappear, just like that? I wonder where Eli will go now that he’s been released and absolved. I wonder what Luisa plans to do, now that her big story will never break. Will I ever know? Or are we completely over?
I push aside the ache, and instead watch the glorious chaos unfolding around me. Justine tugs an elaborately iced cake from the box, while Irma traps Hugh in a corner, deep in conversation (no doubt asking the exact time, date, and location of his birth so that she can determine whether our stars align). Byron is wrestling too many helium balloons around the grand piano, trying tostabilize them with Peter’s prized bust of Shakespeare. Aidan does his best to assist, hugging pink, yellow, and purple balloons to his chest as he shimmies past a piano bench. Joel comes rushing in with a sterling silver cake knife, and Peter follows along with a stack of crystal plates.
“Hold on, people,” I call out. “No reason to work yourselves into a tizzy. I’m just the interim.”
“Hogwash,” Aunt Edna exclaims, waving her bejeweled cane energetically. “You know they’ll keep you. How could they not?”
And watching my beloved aunt Edna make that pronouncement, I decide not to protest, not to resist this moment, even though I know it’s utterly fleeting. I’m not going to think about Griggs right now, because when life brings us joy, even for a few moments, and especially when surrounded by the people we love, we have no choice but to lean into it.
“I’ll go down to the cellar and get a few bottles of chilled Dom Perignon,” Peter announces. “We’ve got some serious celebrating to do!”
Two hours and two bottles of Dom Perignon later, Aidan and I finally find ourselves alone in Peter and Joel’s kitchen. They wandered up to bed, and Aunt Edna followed close behind them, as soon as Byron, Irma, and Justine took their leave. Hugh had to sneak out early, since he’s catching a red-eye to Los Angeles tonight to give a keynote at a linguistics conference. I managed to slip away with him, for at least a few moments. We made out under the moonlight, champagne lingering on our breaths, pressed against his Honda. It felt delicious and a little silly—two full-on adults sucking face against a parked car, especially since—soon enough—at least a half dozen spectators were observing not-at-all discreetly through the living room window.
Joel even had the audacity to applaud when I came back inside.
Now I’m elbow-deep in foamy water, washing champagne flutes. Aidan, standing beside me, carefully dries them as he listens to the explanation I’ve been spooling out for several minutes:Dennis’s surprise departure, Griggs’s terrible advances, my reaction and the threats that ensued. By the time I get to Griggs’s upcoming meeting with the dean, I’m starting to worry that he’s gone catatonic.
“You okay, Aidan?” I pause to ask him, wiping my hands with a dish towel. “I know this is a whole lot to process all at once.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks, his voice filled with hurt.
“I thought I could handle it,” I say, putting down the tea towel and turning to face him.
“It just kills me that—”
“That I kept a secret from you?” I interject. “I’m so sorry—”
“No, Ma. That you’ve had to go through all of this alone. I would have been there for you if I’d known.”
It dawns on me that I wasn’t alone at all. In fact, I felt deeply supported and sustained through those many ups and downs by two people who were strangers to me before this all began.
“So, about that,” I begin, and then I muster the courage to tell him about Luisa and Eli, and the completely nutty plan that we tried to execute. Remarkably, he doesn’t berate or scold me. Instead, he just throws his head back and laughs, so hard that his Adam’s apple bobs wildly.
“That’s amazing,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. “I can’t wait to meet those guys.”
“I’m not sure you will,” I say, feeling the sadness well up in my chest. “It didn’t end so great between us.”
“Maybe just give it time,” he says. “Sounds like y’all went through a lot together. That kind of thing has a way of bonding people. You know?”
Yes, I do know, because I miss them both like hell, but I’m pretty sure Luisa and Eli don’t see it this way. We took advantage of Eli, never truly valuing his talent and commitment. I never gave him the respect he deserved. I wouldn’t hold it against him if he wants nothing more to do with me. And Luisa? It’s pretty clear that she’s falling back into Lone Ranger mode, pushing away anyone who cares about her. I’m guessing she’ll strike out on her own, find some intense job that sucks up all her time and energyin another city, throw herself into it, and never look back. I really hope she hasn’t irreparably damaged things with Eli. Those two are so good for each other. As for me, I’ll respect her wishes if she thinks we can’t be friends.
I just want a chance to tell them both I’m sorry.
“Sucks that it didn’t work,” Aidan continues. “It was a fucking awesome plan.”
“Watch your language, young man,” I snap.
This is a thing I still do with Aidan, and I’m not sure why. I, of course, curse occasionally, but it feels somehow wrong to let my own kid drop F-bombs in my presence. I mean, doesn’t that make me a bad parent, or worse, a “cool” parent? I’ve spent much of my adult life trying to avoid the trap of becoming a “cool” parent. Wouldn’t want to ruin it all now when I’m out here on the home stretch.
“Anyway,” I say, “it’s quite possible that after Saturday your scholarship will disappear. But I don’t want you to worry.”
“I’m not worried,” he says, but his scared eyes tell a different story.
