LEE CERTAINLY HADN’T THOUGHTshe’d take her first flight to Europe with her mother. But one of the joys of social media was its ability to obfuscate. For example, a shot she made her mother take in the airport waiting area would show Lee looking serene, one leg crossed in front of the other, showing off her beautiful shoes. (As soon as she made sure her photo was postable, she could switch them out for the flip-flops in her bag.)
Lee’s mother was having a hard time hefting her old suitcase, which she’d refused to check. As soon as Charlotte had gotten the news that she had won the contest, she had begun digging around in her condo crawl space, unearthing a suite of old luggage, repeating that she hadso much to doto prepare for the trip. When Lee asked what was making her feel so overwhelmed, Charlotte wrung her hands and just said, “Everything! Hand sanitizer! Peanut butter crackers!”
Lee had taken the golf cart to Publix and loaded up on mini hand sanitizers, travel-size cracker packs, women’s magazines, and wine. She’d slowed next to a small refrigerator labeledFLORAL SECTIONand grabbed a bouquet. “I love you, Mom,” she said, when she got home, handing Charlotte the flowers.
“Oh, my,” said Charlotte, visibly moved.
The timingwasrushed, but Lee was glad for an adventure to take her mind off the incessant tabloid coverage of Jason and Alexandria. Their romantic days biking in the Los Angeles sunshine; entering and exiting gyms; walking a new puppy they’d adopted from the ASPCA. (A “schnoodle” puppy, a cross between a schnauzer and a poodle that could not be any cuter.) Their sultry nights: sushi for two; Lionel Richie’s birthday party; ice cream cones after dark as they walked Noodles the schnoodle.
When asked about the adorable pup’s name, Alexandria’s laughter rang out. “I guess I just love noodles!” she confided.
Her smitten hunk added, “She really does love noodles.”
“Who doesn’t love noodles?” Lee had cried, throwing her phone across Charlotte’s guest bed.
“What’s that, dear?” Charlotte had called.
“NOTHING!” Lee had screamed.
“You want noodles for dinner?” Charlotte had said, appearing at the door in a golf visor and bathing suit.
Lee, tears at the corners of her eyes, had nodded sadly.
—
AT GATE C-22, LEErushed to help her mother with her circular suitcase. What was this thing? A hatbox? “I’ve got it, Mom,” said Lee. She grabbed the handle and it came off in her hand.
“My bag!” cried Charlotte.
“We’ll just have to get you a brand-new one in Europe,” said Lee.
“But these were the bags I had last time,” said Charlotte. “They’re French.”
Last time? Lee’s mood darkened. She had read that older people sometimes became hoarders. It was a way of maintaining control or something. Lee had, in fact, played a hoarder on an episode ofCSI.She’d been a prostitute-hoarder and they’d made her wear a red wig and a maroon negligee. She and Jason had hosted a big party to watch the episode, and everyone had lifted their champagne glasses when she said her two lines: “I thought you were coming tomorrow. I haven’t had time to tidy up.”
Clink, clink!Life had been good.
Lee slumped next to her mother in the boarding area. Charlotte was examining the torn luggage handle, looking utterly lost. Where was Cord when they needed him? He had always been the one to placate Charlotte, taking care of her, soothing her. He’d become the man of the house at fourteen. But they wouldn’t see Cord until they arrived in Athens.
Lee, at her brother’s behest, had called and changed Cord’s ticket so he could fly directly to Greece. Lee and Cord had a text stream going about jetsetting fashion. Every time one of them saw someone with a fanny pack or awful sunglasses, they texted each other an image with the hashtag #jetsetter. Lee loved texting with her brother. It was so much better than having to speak. In some ways, she was closer to her brother than to anyone else—they texted many times a day! She figured he was as lonely as she was, and was similarly looking forward to sharing stories about how their lives had dead-ended over cocktails in some weird cruise ship bar.
“I’m really sorry about your bag, Mom,” said Lee. Charlotte seemed bewildered, and Lee felt a bolt of fear. Any sign of weakness in her mother made Lee feel completely unmoored. Charlotte’s frankly appraising looks, her bad wine and wonderful dinners, the absolutefactof her, and knowing what she was doing every night (watching Brian Williams with Godiva, the cat) were things Lee depended on. It was honestly embarrassing how much Lee still needed Charlotte. As long as her mother was around, Lee could still be a child messing up, knowing that Charlotte would come along behind her, pick up after her, and make things right. Oh, how she’d loved as a teenager the way Charlotte had gathered her dirty clothes and returned them, perfectly folded, in a basket outside her bedroom door!
“Mom,” Lee said gently. “You know we’re going to Europe, right?”
Charlotte looked up, her face almost childlike. “Europe,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Lee,” said Charlotte.
“Yes?”
“You’re too old for a skirt that short.”
And just like that, the bitch was back. Lee was filled with relief and familiar anger. “I am not,” she said, sounding in her own ears like a petulant teenager. How she missed being a petulant teenager! Adulthood was the worst.
“I beg to differ,” said Charlotte. “Here’s your phone, dear.”
