I make myself stop gawking at her. Even her laugh is different from Mom’s. Mom laughs like she doesn’t want to disturb the air. Shirley laughs like a tornado. For the millionth time, I wonder if Dad fell out of love with Mom first or if he fell in love with Shirley first. If Shirley didn’t exist, would our family still be together? Or would he just have fallen for someone else?
Fortunately, the waiters descend on us again, saving me from pondering questions with unknowable answers. This time, they’re carrying tiered silver trays filled with tiny sandwiches and miniature desserts. I hear a lot of oohing and aahing. One woman says she hopes they’re bringing more food.
Danica takes artful pictures of everything she eats and posts them. I take less artful pictures and text them to X.
I send him a photo of a tiny lemon custard pie complete with a gold leaf lying on top. He sends a single potato chip sitting in the center of one of Maggie’s china plates.
I send him one of a triangular salmon sandwich topped with caviar. He sends me one of a dollop of jam surrounded by four bread crusts.
We go on like this and I laugh my way through the entire meal.
Forty-five minutes later, I’ve eaten as many cucumber sandwiches and scones with clotted cream as any person reasonably should. I tried not to like the food, but it was completely delicious.
Finally, it’s time for the actual gift exchange part of the event. Mentally, I prepare myself for boredom. And I’m not wrong. Itisspectacularly boring. Mostly it consists of Shirley opening presents, cooing over the present and then tearfully thanking the giver of the present. Fifteen presents in, I want to stab myself. Twenty presents in, I do stab myself. I’m kidding.
After the last present is opened and ritually appreciated, Shirley’s mom stands up and clinks her fork on her champagne glass.
Someone yells out, “Don’t you make us cry now, Ms. Gene.”
“Oh, you know she will,” someone else shouts back.
Ms. Gene shushes them both. “You all just be quiet now.” She turns to Shirley, takes her hand and kisses it before turning back to us.
“For those of you who know my Shirley, you know she’s been through a lot.” She stops talking and puts her fist over her heart. “Some of the things she’s been through, no one should have to endure. I don’t know why the Good Lord saw fit to put her through all that, but He works in mysterious ways.”
Shirley bows her head slightly and her sisters cover her hands with theirs.
What has she been through? I wonder.
Her mom leans down to kiss her forehead. When she straightens back up, she’s crying. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry on this beautiful day, but…Anyway, today is not about old pain. Today is a celebration.”
A chorus ofmm-hmms goes up around the room.
“When Shirley first told me she met a man…let’s just say I was skeptical.”
Another round ofmm-hmms and laughter.
I sit up straighter. It’s weird hearing someone else talk about Dad like he belongs to them.
“But I said to Shirley that I would keep my mind open when I met him. And when I did meet him, I told him I was going to be hard to please.” She smiles down at Shirley. “But, miracle of miracles, he pleased me. First of all, he’s a good man. A family man. I’m so glad to have two new grandchildren to fuss over.”
She smiles over at our table and raises her glass to Danica and me.
I raise my glass of sparkling cider, and Danica raises herstoo.
It’s only been a few minutes, but I can already tell that Shirley’s mom is the kind of person who loves big. She’s proud and fierce and sweet too. It’s obvious how much she loves Shirley. It’s obvious that she’ll love me and Danica big too.
There’s a part of me that would like to get to know her, that would like to feel the weight of that big love. But another part of me resents being claimed. My family was just the right size before. I already have two actual grandmothers. I don’t need another one. I don’twantanother one. And I know what I’m feeling isn’t exactly fair, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
Shirley’s mom keeps going: “And you should see the way he looks at my Shirley, like she put the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky. It’s almost embarrassing the way he loves her. But a love like that is what she deserves.”
I want to protest. Dad loved Mom like that too, didn’t he? Where did all his love for her go? Did it just disappear? Did he transfer it all to Shirley? Is that how love works?
“And you know my Shirley loves with her whole heart. She just dotes on him and his ten-dollar English-professor words. So now I want everybody to raise those glasses high. Yes, yes, get them up there.” She looks down at Shirley. “Sweetheart, you are the love of my life. I’m so glad you found the love of yours.”
Tears are streaming down Shirley’s face, and she doesn’t try to wipe them away. Her face is so full of love for Dad, it’s almost hard to look at. I’ve thought a lot of awful things about her over the last year. I’ve called her a liar and a cheat. I blamed her for taking Dad away from us. And for making things awful between Mom and me and Danica and me. I’ve been angry. So angry.
But looking at her now, I see how much she loves Dad. Of all the things I expected to feel today, understanding for Shirley wasn’t one of them. It’s hard to completely hate someone who loves someone you love. She loves Dad. I can’t deny that. Just like I can’t deny that I still love him.
