The Middlesteins(11)

She lied when she said she thought his sister, Robin, was adorable the first time Rachelle met her. Robin was—and still is—miserable, moody, and weird, and Rachelle had never forgiven her for her inability to muster one decent smile for their wedding photos, not to mention the drinking—oh, the drinking! Was she the only one in the family who saw how much Robin drank?—and if she had her way she would cut Robin out of every single picture in the album.

She lies once or twice a month about going to matinees during the day by herself because she thinks he might begrudge her that pleasure when he works so hard himself, and this lie necessitates a double lie, one when he asks what she did that day, and two when they go to see a movie she has already seen and she has to pretend she hasn’t seen it yet, which has led her husband to wonder if she has lost her sense of humor, or, in a more subtle way he has not been able to name yet, her capacity for joy, because she barely laughs at the jokes she already knows are coming.

And finally, she doesn’t always love being a stay-at-home mom, but the other option, dealing with bosses and responsibilities and meetings in poorly lit rooms and office politics and all that other crap that Benny goes through (and she is grateful he does it) on a daily basis, sounds so appalling that she will gladly gush, “This is what I was born to do,” to anyone who might ask, her friends, his parents, her Pilates instructor, the women at the Sisterhood meetings, even if she suspects there might have been another option, if only she had not let Benny just put it in for a second because it felt so good and never made him take it out again before it was too late.



And now this: No, she had not seen his mother. No one had been home.



*

“What’s going on over there?” he said, his late-night high disappearing into the winter air.

“I don’t know,” she said. “They’re your parents. You know them better than I do.”

“Where was she?”

“Benny.”

“What?” He ground something imaginary under his shoe.

There were many moments when she suggested things to her husband, mostly in such a way that it seemed like it was his idea to begin with, and there were moments when she called him on his bullshit, usually while teasing him, so as to take away the sting, and then there were moments—and these moments were rare, because he was a good man, and Edie and Richard had done an excellent job of raising him to be a man and to take the right course of action—when she told him what to do.

“You need to talk to your mother. Not me. You.”

“I’ll call my dad,” he said.

“Do whatever,” she said, and then she was done talking for the night.



*

The next morning, Rachelle and Benny watched as Emily and Josh stood out back near the pool, bundled up in winter coats, practicing their dance moves. A Black Eyed Peas song blared from a boom box perched on a deck chair. It was a lovely, crisp, winter day; the sun hung serenely in blue, windless skies. Emily counted off each beat out loud. Josh closed his eyes and concentrated. They were desperately trying to glide across the tiled patio.

Emily pulled off her winter cap, and Josh unraveled his scarf. Emily walked over to the boom box to restart the song, and in that quick moment Josh popped and locked in one beautiful, swift motion.

Rachelle drew in her breath.

“Did you see that?” said Benny.

“I did,” she said.

“Takes after his old man,” said Benny. He executed a wobbly moonwalk across the kitchen floor.

“Right,” said Rachelle.

The boom box began blasting the same song again. Rachelle was starting to hate that song.

“So I was thinking I’d drive over to my folks’ house today,” he said. He barely looked at her. She had stiffed him in bed last night, curled up in the far corner, a pillow behind her to rebuff any approach.

Rachelle did not know if he wanted her approval or not. If she gave her approval, it was as if she had commanded and he had followed, which, obviously, was what had happened, but she didn’t know if it was wise to wound him any further. If she didn’t acknowledge him, he might think she was still mad at him, which she wasn’t. In fact, she was more in love with him at that moment than in years. All of the recent stressors on their marriage, his slight disconnection from his mother’s multiple surgeries, his inability to prepare or even merely purchase a significantly healthy meal for his children for months now, all of that was washed away with just one appropriate, adult decision.

She threw her arms around him and enmeshed her fingers in his hair and kissed him, hard, and for a while, long enough so that when their daughter looked up at them through the window, it inspired her to believe in love and the sanctity of marriage, if not for herself, at least for others.

Later, in the parking lot of Old Orchard—there was a sale at Nordstrom’s, winter coats, 30 percent off—Rachelle began to plot how she would save her mother-in-law. It would require a commitment from her husband and obviously from Richard, more than anyone. They would all have to work together to get Edie back on track. Rachelle would happily prepare meals for her, healthy meals, and she knew a nutritionist who was affiliated with her Pilates studio. Or maybe she would just sign her up for Weight Watchers. Rachelle would drive her to the meetings herself, and sit with her if she felt it necessary. And Rachelle would give up her daytime matinees to go to the gym with Edie if it meant she would finally get some exercise. Hell, all she had to do was go for a walk every day! Even that little bit would help. But more than anything, it was really on Richard to make sure she wasn’t sneaking trips to the fast-food joints. If that meant he had to work less, then so be it. There was always time to make more money, but you only have one wife, and one life. And Benny would have to call his mother every single day and check in on her, and let her know that he loved her. A call from a son means everything to a mother. Rachelle knew she would want the same thing someday.