“He’s quite capable,” Kim insists.
“I don’t know if Jonathan’s apartment allows pets long term.”
Cece waits for a response while she fills two Solo cups withwater from the tap. Her mom says nothing, typing furiously on her phone, sandaled foot bouncing anxiously. Cece recalls all the moments her parents cajoled her and Wynonna to get off their phones and talk to them like human beings.
In a huff, Kim fires off whatever message she’s been typing and puts her phone down. “What were you saying?”
“What’s in Boston?”
Kim flips her phone over and checks it before turning her attention back to Cece. “I’m meeting an old acquaintance. We were friends when I was at Fordham. You don’t have to look at me like that. What are you, the morality police now? Nothing ever happened between us, but there was always something there—tension. Anyway, we reconnected on Facebook. It turns out he’s a widower. We got to chatting, and he’s invited me up to his place in Brookline.”
Cece drains her water and studies the ceiling. Too fast—everything is happening, dissolving too fast. She finds herself amazed at the speed at which a family can fracture and fall away. “Don’t you think you’re kind of rushing things?”
Kim regards her with a patronizing look. “There’s no such thing as rushing at my age. I’ve got ten, maybe fifteen good years left, and I intend on enjoying them.”
“What about Dad?”
“What about him?”
“Are you actually getting divorced?”
“We’re taking a break. That’s about as official as he can get. You know your father.”
“And Wynonna?”
“Not speaking to me at the moment. Now, before I go, I needyou to look at some photographs for me. I require your millennial expertise.”
“What kind of photos?”
“For my profile. I’m on SilverSingles and eharmony,” Kim says, and shows Cece her phone, swiping through a dizzying array of photos: oddly angled selfies, hastily cropped photos, evidence of Barry in the form of a shirtsleeve, a hand, a shadow.
Cece recoils. “Mom, this is nuts. I’m not doing this with you.”
Kim shrugs. “Suit yourself. God knows I can’t talk to Wynonna about any of this. I thought you’d be able to handle the situation with a little more maturity.”
“You can’t just expect everyone to fall in line. I mean, I support your decision to be happy, Mom, but don’t you think it’s kind of disrespectful to Dad? Moving on like this? So quickly?”
“And what would the requisite period of mourning look like to you and your sister? What’s a satisfactory length of time for me to be depressed and downtrodden? Perhaps you and Wynonna would prefer I just become an old spinster and live alone for the rest of my life. Then you’d never have to imagine your mother actually enjoying her life.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Time is all we’ve got, Cece. Can’t you see that?”
Cece can only nod.
“I need to get on the road. I really hate driving at night,” Kim says, tossing her phone in her Saint Laurent tote and standing. “Send Jonathan my love. I’m thrilled you two are giving it another shot. Nothing in life is a guarantee; every relationship, every marriage is a crapshoot, so you’ve gotta look at theconstants and bet on those, but I don’t have to tell you that. You’re the risk analysis expert.”
Walking with her mother out to the curb, Cece waits for the inevitable criticisms of her continued work at Rayburn and now-infamous job interview in the city. Sure, Kim’s happy about her decision to reconcile with Jonathan, but there’s no way she’ll let Cece give up on a stable and profitable career without a word. She’d pushed Cece too hard, spent countless hours helping her with summer enrichment program applications and supplemental college essays, turned a blind eye to Barry’s maniacal swimming practice regimens in the name of character building. But the moment passes without incident, and it occurs to Cece that for once, her mother is more preoccupied with her own life than her daughters’.
“What do youmean he sounded weird?” Cece says. She’s fifteen minutes away from her parents’ house, navigating the familiar back roads in the dark, eyes squinted, nostalgia around every corner.
“He just seemed out of it,” Wynonna says. “I cannot believe Mom just left him alone. You said she was only supposed to stay in Boston for a few nights.”
“I guess she extended her stay.”
“It’s selfish, Cece. She’s acting like a spoiled teenager.” There’s muffled commotion on the other end of the line. Cece only picks up bits and pieces. “You put them down, Devin. I’m talking to mysister…She’s going there now to check on him…I know it’s not ideal!” More shuffling. A sliding glass door. “Sorry. I’m back.”
“I’ll update you when I get there.”
