They May Not Mean To, But They Do(73)

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Molly.

Ben’s genial smile disappeared. “Why?”

Because it’s infantile, she wanted to say. Because all you ever do down there is drink and play dress-up. “Just time for something new.”

“New is overrated,” Joy said, but no one responded. It was a noisy table and she thought again about getting hearing aids; perhaps she had spoken too softly. It was sometimes hard for her to gauge these days.

“I’m very proud of Ben,” she said in a louder voice. “It’s difficult to change anything in this life.”

Still no one looked her way. They were lost in their excitement and chatter. But Ben must have heard her, for he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Thank you.”

They were sitting outside at the long picnic table. Daniel took in the scene before him with satisfaction: his wife and children, his sister and his nephew, his mother; the corn on the cob, the first corn of the year, the butterflied leg of lamb he’d grilled perfectly, not gray, not blue.

But Ben then announced he was a vegetarian and refused the perfectly grilled lamb. Ruby asked if the lamb was butchered by a kosher butcher, and Cora, horrified at the thoughts brought on by the word “butcher,” said she was vegan as of that moment and refused her plate of lamb, too.

Daniel sat in the gloaming, swatting mosquitoes, morosely chewing the perfect lamb, aggrieved by his family and their vegetables, when his mother cleared her throat and said in an uncharacteristically formal voice, “I’d like to invite Karl to Ruby’s bat mitzvah.”

“What?” he said. “Why?”

“Why?” said Molly.

“Who’s Karl?” Ruby asked.

“You remember, Ruby,” Ben said. “Old guy with the red walker like Grandpa’s?”

Joy wasn’t sure she liked that description, but she nodded. “You met him at Passover,” she said. “He was a friend of Grandpa’s.”

“I’m sorry, but this is not appropriate,” Daniel said. “He’s practically a stranger. Ruby’s met him exactly once. Why would he come to her bat mitzvah?”

“He and Grandpa became good friends,” Joy said. “And I would like to invite him. Period.” She was a little red in the face. Daniel could see the color rising even in the dusk.

“But why do you want him to come,” Ruby said, “if he’s Grandpa’s friend? He won’t be able to see Grandpa.”

“Ruby,” her mother said sharply.

Joy said, “I thought it would be nice, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay,” Ruby said. “Since Grandpa can’t come, like a representative.”

“Like instead of Grandpa,” said Cora.

For a moment there was silence, then Coco boomed, “Salad! I forgot the salad,” and dashed inside.

“No one can take the place of Grandpa,” Daniel said.

“Yeah,” Ruby said, giving Cora a punch in the arm.

Cora began to cry, Ruby called her a crybaby, Joy excused herself with a headache, Ben cleared the table, Ruby punched Cora again and said it was her fault that Grandma had a headache because she was such a crying crybaby, Daniel yelled at them both, Coco yelled at Daniel for yelling at the children, Molly filled her glass with wine and downed it, and dinner was over.

“I really think it’s, I don’t know, unsuitable,” Molly said to Daniel as they sat in the lawn chairs in the dark a few hours and a few bottles of wine later. “It’s, it’s unseemly.” She knew she’d had far too much wine, but when your octogenarian mother announces her intention to betray your recently deceased father with her college boyfriend in public, there’s not much choice but to drown your sorrow and humiliation in drink, that’s what she told Freddie when Freddie called earlier.

Molly looked up at the stars. They were revolving. Stars did revolve, didn’t they? No, they didn’t. The earth revolved and it looked like stars revolved, she could almost hear that little pedant Ruby correcting her, but these stars were revolving so fast. “Unseemly,” she said again. “It’s like she’s bringing a date. A date. To Ruby’s bat mitzvah.” Molly closed her eyes, but the stars kept spinning.

“Okay, so she has a new friend, okay, fine, good,” Daniel said. “But you don’t have to bring him to a family thing, right? I think it’s disrespectful. To Dad.”

“And us.”

“The body isn’t even cold yet.”

“No boundaries,” Molly said. “I mean, she’s our mother.”

There was silence, except for the stream.

Then Daniel said, “Do you think they…”

“What? Do I think who what?”

“You know. Mom and Karl.”

“Daniel! You’re, you’re a…” She wanted to say pervert, but she was overcome by a wave of nausea.

“Molly, oh god, that’s disgusting.” He moved out of the way as she retched.

“Thank god Ben didn’t see that,” she muttered, still leaning over the side of the chair.

*

The next morning was a Saturday and Coco took Cora to a mall an hour away as compensation for too much nature, Ben and Ruby went out on a bike ride, and Molly and Danny were both still asleep. Joy made herself a soft-boiled egg that was too hard and a piece of toast. The house was unusually quiet, no construction equipment grinding next door, no grandchildren squabbling. Even Gatto was silent, asleep in a patch of sun in the kitchen. Joy drank her tea and thought how serene it was.