All Adults Here(88)

Astrid and Birdie went shopping for dinner. It was unclear what Nicky ate—Soup? Vegetables?—but Astrid knew that she wanted to feed everyone. Birdie had spent her whole adult life as a single person, a single addition to Thanksgiving meals and wedding receptions, and she seemed to be enjoying the chaotic nature of parenthood, and the challenge of cooking for a brood. She recommended tacos, which sounded interactive and fun and easy to alter for Nicky’s vegetarian diet. Astrid watched as Birdie filled their cart with things she didn’t have in her kitchen: three different kinds of chilies, a pineapple, cilantro, cabbage.

“This is nice,” Astrid said, walking alongside Birdie, who pushed their cart. “I feel like I’m on a date and you’re trying to impress me.”

“You are on a date,” Birdie said, kissing Astrid on the cheek. “But I don’t need to impress you.”

They checked out and carried the heavy bags to the car. The grocery store was on Main Street, two blocks before the roundabout, with a large parking lot set behind a wooden fence. From the front door, Astrid looked straight down Main Street. Clapham was lovely in the fall. The leaves had begun to drop, and the ones on the trees were starting to turn yellow and orange and red. It was a beautiful town. And now it had all three of her children in it. Astrid took a few steps away from the parking lot. Cars slowed as they approached the stop sign before the roundabout and stopped when a person stepped out into the road to cross the street. People were polite here, on the whole. They were rule followers, and do-gooders. They voted in midterm elections. They mowed their lawns.

“Did you ever think about moving back to Texas?” Astrid turned her face but kept looking forward.

Birdie set her chin on Astrid’s shoulder. “No. I like winter. When I was a kid, we’d sometimes get these catalogs in the mail that had winter coats in them, and I would fold down the pages. Boots too. I love winter boots.”

“Do you think Clapham is an okay place? I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking. Is the town too small? Should I have moved somewhere else, after Russell died?” A woman stepped into the white crosswalk and held up her hand to stop an oncoming pickup truck, as if her small hand could stop all that steel. Astrid held her breath, but the truck squeaked to a stop with room to spare. It was easiest to worry backward, when you couldn’t change course even if you wanted to, or sideways, into equally impossible parallel universes. Astrid could no sooner leave Clapham than grow wings.

“It’s very okay,” Birdie said. “Even nice. And if you’d gone somewhere better, you wouldn’t have me.” She set down the bags she was carrying and rubbed Astrid’s forearms. “Let’s go roast some pork, it’ll make you feel better.”



* * *



—

It turned out Nicky wasn’t a vegetarian anymore. Children didn’t have to tell you anything. He came into the kitchen when Birdie was expertly slicing peppers with a sharp knife, and he immediately began to help. Astrid sat down and watched Nicky and Birdie work together.

He’d always been like this—easy to incorporate, easy to get along with. Even as a teenager, Nicky had been able to hold long conversations with middle-aged women about gardening and dog training and other things he didn’t ostensibly know anything about. He was a good listener.

“I want to have everyone over this weekend,” Astrid said. “I don’t know how long you and Juliette are planning to stay, but I really want to have all three kiddos and all three grandchildren here at the same time.” Birdie had assigned Astrid the guacamole, and she was dutifully slicing the soft avocados in half and scooping the green flesh into a large bowl.

“Sure,” Nicky said. He was slicing garlic now, doing whatever Birdie put in front of him. “But I saw Elliot last night. Porter and I made him come to Buddy’s with us.”

“Buddy’s!” Astrid whooped. “The three of you? I had no idea.” She felt a pang of jealousy at not having been invited, though of course she was also overjoyed that her children cared enough about one another to get together without her pushing. Astrid grabbed the onion on her cutting board and sliced it in half. Tears sprang to her eyes immediately, as they always did. Why had no one figured out how to fix that problem?

“Yeah, he came with us,” Nicky said.

“How does he seem to you? I think he and Wendy are having some problems. I don’t know. He just seems so unhappy, and work seems fine, and the boys seem fine. I just assume. I know it’s none of my business, but I really think so. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s so hard to get through to.” Astrid wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Yeesh.”

“I think Wendy’s fine. I mean, it’s an adjustment, them working together, but I don’t think that’s the problem.” Nicky looked up, biting his lip, and waited to see if his mother would pounce.

“She’s working with him? At Strick Brick? No one tells me anything. You know, I do worry that he doesn’t have enough business. I know it was so important for him to hang his own shingle, but are people hiring him? Does he have enough projects?” Astrid looked up, her eyes swimmy.

“Oh, I’m sure his business is okay,” Birdie said. She lifted a lid off a pot on the stove and the whole kitchen filled with a warm, smoky smell. She looked at Nicky. “Did he talk to you about any new projects?”