An Honest Lie(13)

Viola waved an annoyed hand in her face. “Pay attention!”

Rainy faced her in the cramped space, barely able to lift her wineglass to her mouth. “Go,” she said.

Viola didn’t need further nudging.

“So, I accidentally picked up Tara’s phone earlier instead of my own—you know how we both have that same phone case.”

Rainy nodded.

“Dude, Braithe is not sick. Her text said, ‘Thanks for covering for me, I owe you.’”

“It might not mean anything,” Rainy said. But the pantry, no longer charming with its labels, suddenly felt smaller. Her breath caught and she felt hot. Viola was blocking the door with her body, her belly between them; Rainy’s back was now to the pasta, and she wanted out.

“This party was her idea. She has no reason to not want to be here.” And that was true; Braithe was consistent, and she adored Viola.

“Okay, but I’m not finished. The next text from Braithe said, ‘I’ll tell you everything tonight. Come over after the party.’”

That was harder to explain. Rainy bit her lip, trying to think of something so that she could get out of the pantry; it felt like the walls were squeezing tighter by the second.

“What are you thinking?” she asked Viola.

“Honestly, I have no idea. She told me she was sick when I texted her—‘I can barely stand up’ are the words she used to describe her situation. Do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Can Braithe be mad at anyone?”

Viola took a minute to consider that one. Then she shook her head. “No, she’s not like that.”

“Maybe she’s mad at me,” Rainy suggested. “Or one of the others. Or maybe she really is sick, and she needs Tara to come keep her company later.” With her non-wine-holding hand, she reached past Viola and turned the door handle. The door swung open and cool, fresh air reached her lungs. “Either way, this is your baby shower, and you shouldn’t be worrying about this.”

“You’re right.” Viola backed out of the pantry.

Rainy thought about how Tara had chased her outside earlier when she went to her truck for the rocking chair. That had been weird. “You’ll text me if you hear anything, yes?”

“Yeah,” Viola said. “You want to sneak out the kitchen door now, before anyone knows you’re gone?”

“Don’t you need me here?” Her voice was laughably flat.

Viola winced, holding a hand to her belly, and shook her head. “Go, before they come in here. And drive slowly past the Mattson place and see what you can see.”

“Oh my God, I love you so much.” Rainy’s relief gave way to affection and she gave her friend an awkward, over-the-belly hug before heading for the door.

“Your present is on the front porch.”

“It better be good,” she heard Viola say as the door closed behind her.



5


Then


Tanned faces stared at her from all around the room. No one was pale here, Summer noted. Even in California there were pale people, but not here. She liked that; it meant they were outside a lot. Everyone was wearing the same white T-shirt. She felt silly in her brightly colored, mismatched clothes...and then she felt embarrassed. She didn’t have much to choose from: a couple T-shirts with flowers and pants with stripes, everything faded. Taured had them stand side by side next to a table ringed with blue and yellow balloons as he spoke into a microphone, introducing them. The room squealed with glee and everyone clapped their hands for Summer and Lorraine, their newest family members. She felt so important in that moment she didn’t see the gift being handed to her, a basket overflowing with things. Her mother was handed another, and she politely thanked the room for them both. Summer was counting the kids in the room, all looking at her with equal parts jealousy and curiosity.

“We’re celebrating someone else tonight,” one mother said to a crying five-or six-year-old.

“What about cake?” the kid screamed. “I want my cake!”

There was, indeed, a cake set out on a table—white with pink roses. Summer was allowed to cut the first slice like it was her birthday. She cut a giant square where all the frosted roses were clustered and was told that that was her slice. The kid from earlier screamed again and his mom carried him out by the armpits as he kicked and wailed. Little brat! Summer thought. The adults were all drinking beer—the one her dad called “bitch beer.” Even her mama had one in her hand. She wasn’t smiling like Summer thought she’d be, but at least she was talking to people. The mother came back in with the bratty kid. She was holding his hand and his face was red.

“Come here,” Taured said. The little boy went to him. Summer stopped chewing as she waited to see what would happen. The kid didn’t seem afraid of Taured. In fact, he hugged his leg and stared up into his face.

“Enoch Aaron, let’s welcome our guest and not be selfish.”

“Yes, Papa.” The boy seemed chastised, dipping his head.

Summer’s eyes shot back to Taured’s face. He was a dad? Her mom hadn’t mentioned that part. She looked around for the boy’s mother, wanting to remember which of the women it was, but everyone looked the same: smiling, smiling, smiling.

At some point, an older woman with bushy gray hair wandered over to where Summer was finishing her cake and handed her a card. The woman was moon-faced and rosy, like a storybook character.