The Party Crasher(62)

  “They always teased each other,” I say uncertainly.

  “Maybe it started off teasing, but it ended up…” Bean sighs. “Snippy. It was like Mimi didn’t want Dad to occupy a Dad-shaped space in the world anymore. She wanted him to be different. Or not there. And then Dad reacted by going all silent and sullen. He would ignore Mimi, which would drive her mad. It drove me mad too. I would be thinking, Just answer her, for God’s sake!”

      “Silent?” I’m freshly dumbfounded. “Sullen? Dad?”

  “I know. You can’t even imagine. And I used to hear them having a go at each other, at the bottom of the garden, where they thought I couldn’t hear. The pair of them were…Let’s just say they weren’t their best selves. Either of them.” Bean exhales. “I didn’t tell you, because it was so grim. But now I think I should have done. Then you wouldn’t have been so shocked when they split.”

  I’m quiet for a while, digesting Bean’s story. Try as I might, I can’t imagine it. Mimi is about warmth and comfort and nurture, not snippiness. And Dad is about charm and charisma. How could he be sullen?

  “Dad’s not perfect,” says Bean, as though reading my mind, “and nor is Mimi, and they weren’t in a constant state of bliss. I’m sure they only behaved like that because they were…unhappy.”

  The word unhappy lodges, heavy, in my heart.

  “So, what, they were unhappy all the way along?” I retort. “They never loved each other?” I’m feeling a miserable clenching inside, because isn’t this what I’ve been saying? That our entire childhood was a fake?

  “No!” says Bean at once. “I don’t believe that. I think it was only recently that things got difficult. But they didn’t want to admit it.” She sighs. “Maybe they should have been more open with us. Then you wouldn’t keep putting them on such a pedestal.”

      “I don’t put them on a pedestal!” I protest, and Bean laughs.

  “Oh, Effie, of course you do. It’s endearing. But it makes it tougher for you. You see it as, We had heaven, and then, boom, it was exploded into smithereens. Well, that’s not right. It wasn’t heaven. But nor is it smithereens,” she adds after a pause. “It’s just…difficult.”

  “That’s an understatement,” I say, staring into the darkness.

  “I do get it, Ephelant,” says Bean gently. “I do. I miss Mimi being here, and so does Gus. It really hit me on Dad’s last birthday. Krista had already decorated the tree, remember?”

  “Yes,” I say with feeling—because how could I not? We all arrived for tree-decorating day, but the tree was already covered in brand-new ornaments which Krista had ordered, and we all had to admire them.

  “Then she brought out that grand chocolate cake with the swirls, remember?” Bean continues. “And I kept thinking, But Mimi always makes him carrot cake. It’s such a tiny thing, but I got really upset.”

  “Did you?” I turn to her, feeling a swell of gratitude. “You know, that makes me feel better. Realizing I’m not the only one.”

  “You’re not the only one,” says Bean. “You’re really not.”

  “And by the way, that chocolate cake was vile.”

  “Awful,” agrees Bean emphatically.

      “Hideous.”

  “Where did she even buy it? It was the worst-quality chocolate. It was like plastic.”

  “Yes, but you can’t see the taste on Instagram, can you?”

  “Of course!” Bean exclaims. “That’s why she got it. To show off on Instagram.”

  “Bean, you’re bitching about Krista!” I exclaim in joyful realization.

  It’s so rare to hear Bean bitch, even about Krista, that I can’t help smiling. We need to do more of this. Far more. (Except I won’t call it “bitching.” I’ll call it “sharing.” That can be our group. I’ll even buy biscuits.)

  “Oh God,” says Bean, sounding stricken. “Effie, I’m sorry I’ve been so…”

  “Diplomatic,” I supply.

  “On the fence,” she corrects me. “I was trying to give Krista the benefit of the doubt. Keep the family talking. I thought, Well, Dad’s chosen her, I need to respect that. But now, after what you told me, I don’t trust her an inch.”

  “I’ve never trusted her,” I say darkly, just to make the point that I’m a better judge of character than Bean is.

  Bean’s breathing is growing heavier and now I can tell she’s drifting off, but I can’t sleep yet. I’m too wired. I stare upward into the darkness, my eyes wide open, trying to process this whole weird, unexpected evening. I came here for my Russian dolls. They were my only priority. That was all I wanted from this house. But I haven’t found them, and instead I’m tangled up in my family and all its problems.

  My mind roams over all my family members. All keeping secrets. From one another or from the world. Mimi and Dad…Krista and Dad…Gus and Romilly…Bean…Everyone’s hiding something from someone.