On Second Thought(118)

“Thanks for the advice.”

“I’m tired of being bitter,” Candy said. “I’d like to try something else.”

“Does Dad know?” I asked.

“I just called him. Left a voice mail. He’s working a Cardinals game.”

We were all quiet for a minute. A crow flew over us, cawing, the last of the sunlight turning its feathers iridescent.

“Why did you take him back, Mom?” Kate asked. “You were so angry when he divorced you. Sean and I thought you hated him.”

“I did.”

“So?” Kate continued. “It must’ve been clear he was just using you. And if you had said no, he would’ve married someone else within the month. Dad couldn’t make himself a sandwich with a gun pointed at his heart, let alone raise Ainsley alone.”

“I know,” Candy said. “But I couldn’t leave that poor innocent child out in the cold, could I?”

“So all these decades of unhappiness are on me?” I said. “Sorry for being born.”

“No, Ainsley.” Her voice was overly patient, that I’m sorry you’re so dense voice I knew so well. “Part of me hoped he’d...well, you know, girls. I hoped he’d fall in love with me again. But he didn’t. There were times when I thought he was close, but I was always wrong.” She glanced at me. “You were the best part. The sweetest little girl in the world.”

My eyes widened, and I had to sit up a little to make sure Candy had just said what I thought I heard.

Kate was smiling. “You win, Ainsley. Mom loves you best.”

Candy smiled and looked back at the sky. “Every child is a mother’s favorite.”

“I thought I was the recalcitrant stepchild,” I said.

“That book isn’t based on you, Ainsley. Please.”

“Sean is your true favorite,” Kate said.

“Sean,” Candy snorted. “He’s useless, that boy. But he did give me grandchildren. Who wants dinner? I’m starving. Or are you too busy for your poor soon-to-be single mother?”

I was pretty sure she was talking to both of us, and the word step had not been used.

“I’m not too busy for my poor single mother,” I said, jumping up. “Kate, are you too busy for your poor single mother?”

“I don’t seem to be,” she said. I offered her my hand and pulled her up, then did the same to Candy. For a second, I thought we might hug, but then the moment was gone.

We were still us, after all.

Us, but a little better.

*

On Sunday, I decided to look at some classes at the local colleges. I took my laptop out onto the patio—the heat had relented, and it was about as perfect a summer day as could be. Plus, who knew how much longer I’d be living here? I had to enjoy the koi pond while I had one.

I scanned the class selection. I’d fallen into my job at NBC. I didn’t mind working at Hudson Lifestyle, now that I was actually making an effort (and shagging the boss). But I didn’t love it (the work, that was). It was a job, not a career.

For Jonathan, it was different. In the past month, I’d learned that his grandmother had started the magazine in 1931 at a time when no one thought a woman had the business savvy to run a business. Hudson Lifestyle had never laid off a single employee. When a freelancer’s kid had gotten leukemia, the magazine (i.e. Jonathan) had paid all her bills, and the girl was now at Columbia, getting her law degree.

So it was all very noble and lovely. It just wasn’t me.

I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what was. Unlike Kate and Sean, I never had a calling. I liked people. I liked being useful. That was about all I knew.

Maybe it was time for me to travel. Or live alone. Or get a degree that might serve me better than philosophy.

My phone rang from somewhere in the depths of the sofa where Ollie had hidden it. I dug around, pulled it out.

Judy.

“Hello?” I said.

“Sweetheart? It’s me.”

My eyes welled unexpectedly at the sound of her voice. “Hi,” I said. “How are you?”

“We’re fine. We miss you.”

A longing for their kitchen, for Judy’s pancakes, for Aaron’s bear hugs, for family game night, swamped me. “I miss you guys, too.”

“How are your parents?”

“Uh...they’re fine.” Dad had taken Candy’s news with grace (I hoped he noticed Candy had moved out), then gone off to Anaheim for a few days. But I wasn’t going to tell the Fishers about my parents. A few months ago, Judy would’ve been the first person I called. That had obviously changed.

“Would you come over, honey? We have a little something for you.”

I looked at the time. Two o’clock. “Okay. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

I showered and dressed carefully in a white dress with pink poppies printed on it and pink canvas shoes. Put on a little makeup. “Come on, Ollie,” I said. “We’re going for a ride.” The Fishers loved Ollie.

On the drive over, I wondered what they had for me. Maybe something from our house? Maybe my Hanukkah presents, since Judy shopped all year round to find the perfect gifts?

I pulled into their driveway, and the lump came back to my throat. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d been here. Hundreds. I was in at least five framed photos that hung in the house—more than at my own parents’ house.