Nolan is in a coma.
Their son, brother, and nephew—her supposed boyfriend—is lying in a hospital bed, unresponsive, and possibly brain dead. He should be here. He should be in this chair; he should be the one laughing at the costumes upstairs, sneaking beers with Marie, and eating the truly impossible amount of latkes heaped on this plate.
It’s not just that Alice doesn’t belong here. It’s that Nolandoes.It’s not Alice’s fault that he’s not here—she did literally everything she could to save his life—but it suddenly all feels so wrong.
She’s enjoyed herself, these last eight days. Sure, they’ve been stressful and hard and confusing, but she’s laughed more in the last week than in the last year combined. She’s been hugged more, cared about more, touched more. Marie and Babs and Aunt Sheila (except when she’s driving) have brought love into Alice’s life, and Van has made her feel morethan she has since her dad died. Even Frank has brought her so much happiness.
Alice’s life is better than it was last week. And that’s because their son, their baby, their big brother, is probably going to die. All of her joy turns sour in her mouth.
She stares hard at the candles burning merrily on the windowsill.Please,she prays, not sure if she’s asking God or the light itself, wishing she had a song to sing.Please let him wakeup.
Thirteen
“Um, everyone, I have an announcement.”
Five heads swivel to Van. Steve and Aunt Sheila are done eating, and everyone else has considerably slowed down. Alice wonders if there’s aStrega Nonapasta pot situation going on, because she could swear the number of latkes on her plate has only increased, despite how heavily a half dozen of them are sitting in her stomach.
Van clears her throat. “Um, I know it’s not a great time or anything, but, uh…” She spins her fork in her hand. “Stephanie and I are leaving Total Body PT and opening our own practice.”
Alice takes a big sip of wine to hide her face. Okay, so she was the first in the family to know about this new adventure for Van. That’s fine. That’s casual. Most people tell their comatose brother’s fake-girlfriend their big life news before they tell their parents or siblings. That doesn’t mean anything.
“Oh my god!” Marie says, half a latke still in her mouth. “That’s so cool!”
But no one else at the table seems pleased.
“Why?” Steve asks, his forehead suddenly wrinkled with frown lines. “Total Body is going well. Why leave something so stable?”
Van bites her lip, but Alice sees her square her shoulders under her blue sweater. “I’ve told you all about the new management. We haven’t been happy since it started going corporate, and our contracts expire at the end of the year. So now is the best time for a spin-off and we’re pretty confident that a lot of clients will come with us.” She looks down at her plate, her cheeks pink, and Alice wonders if she’s feeling guilty for announcing something so exciting while Nolan’s still in the hospital. Van keeps going, her words coming out faster now, like she’s apologizing for having to say them. “We signed a lease, and we’re hoping to start in February at the latest. I was going to tell you all on the first night of Chanukah, but…you know. Uh, anyway, Stephanie didn’t want to delay the big launch, so it’s being announced next week.”
Steve harrumphs, but he doesn’t say more. He looks like he wishes he were anywhere else.
“Only you and Stephanie?” Babs asks, and Van nods. Babs looks lost for words, and Alice doesn’t miss the helpless look she shoots over to Aunt Sheila, or the way Aunt Sheila nods back at her, like she’s encouraging her to say something. “But, sweetie,” Babs says, her voice hesitant, “what about your health?”
Alice blinks. Van’s…health? Van is quite possibly the heartiest-looking person she’s ever met. She got down the heavy box of blankets without a single grunt of effort just half an hour ago, and Alice hasn’t heard so much as a single sneeze or cough.
Van’s face is stormy now, and her voice is clipped. “My health is fine.”
“But—”
Van cuts her mother off, sterner and more sharply than Alice has ever heard her. “No buts.”
The silence is long and harsh. Alice tries not to breathe.
Something eventually seems to break in Van; her shoulders sag, and she’s softer as she says, “I promise, Mom, my health has no bearing on the new practice. Stephanie and I talked about it, and we’re good.”
Aunt Sheila seems to shrug at Babs, a sort ofwhat can you dostyle surrender, and Alice’s mind is going a million miles a minute. What the hell is everyone talking about? What’s wrong with Van? What kind of health problem could mean she can be a physical therapist with her own practice, walk up and down stairs, stay up late, breathe deeply, live alone with a dog who needs long daily walks? Maybe, like, Crohn’s? High cholesterol, like Uncle Joe? Asthma? A cancer in remission that Babs is still worried about?
Whatever it is, Van clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. She avoids eye contact with everyone, staring down at her plate like she regrets ever bringing it up in the first place.
“Well,” Marie says a little too loudly, after way too long of a profoundly awkward silence. “How about a movie?”
Everyone helps clear the table, the relief in the dining room palpable, and Alice welcomes the banging sounds of Babs and Aunt Sheila putting leftovers away. Anything is better than that horrible silence.
Once order has been more or less restored and the banging has ceased, they all roll themselves into the living room to collapse on the two couches that make an L shape against the walls, both facing the TV. They end up with a “kids” couch and an “adult” couch, with Frank lying on the floor at Van’s feet. Alice isn’t sure if that’s standard or if Van is avoiding herparents, but either way Alice ends up between Marie and Van, content to slouch in her food coma—or, well, whatever the your-son-is-in-a-real-coma-so-let’s-not-make-coma-jokes equivalent term is—while the Altmans good-naturedly bicker over what movie to watch.
“There aren’t really Chanukah movies,” Van says softly to Alice as Marie seizes control through the simple expedient of being the only one who knows how to use the remotes. “So we usually end up watching a random Adam Sandler movie.”
“This one has a bar mitzvah scene,” Marie says, still defensive from the bickering even though she won. “It counts.”
