Where'd You Go, Bernadette(69)

“What kind of support group is this?” I exploded. “I’ll tell you who’s the victim here. It’s me, and the abusers are you, you church-basement sadists!” I stormed out and got ice cream and cried in my car.

That was the high point.

I returned home and realized it was the one night of the week Elgie comes for dinner. He was already there, helping Lincoln and Alexandra with their homework. I’d made lasagna ahead of time, and the kids had put it in the oven and set the table.

These family dinners are something Elgie resisted at first, but now he actually seems to enjoy them. Listen to this: Bernadette didn’t cook, she just ordered take-out. And when they were finished eating, she couldn’t be bothered to wash the plates. No, there were drawers in the dining room table, like desk drawers, so Bernadette’s big idea was to just open the drawers, pile in the soiled plates and utensils, and shut them. The next day, the maid would empty the dirty dishes from the drawers and wash them. Have you ever heard of such a way of life?

As I was dumping the lettuce into the salad bowl, Elgie whispered, “I forwarded you the captain’s report and the lawyer’s letter. Did you have time to read them?”

“Why would you ask me?” I slammed the salad and bottle of dressing on the table. “You don’t care what I think.”

The front door flew open. In hurtled Hurricane Bee, waving Mr. Harmsen’s letter and captain’s report. “You wish Mom were dead?!”

“Bee—” Elgie said. “Where did you get these?”

“They came in the mail to the house.” She stomped her foot and pushed the back of Elgie’s chair. “I could take everything else! But all anyone cares about is proving Mom is dead.”

“I didn’t write that,” Elgie said. “That’s lawyerspeak from a guy who doesn’t want to get sued.”

“What happens when Mom comes home and finds out you’re eating dinner with people she hated, all la la la?”

“If that happens, then she’ll be the one with the explaining to do,” I said. I know, I know, wrong thing.

“You gnat!” Bee spun around and screamed at me. “You’re the one who wishes she were dead so you can marry Dad and take his money.”

“I’m sorry,” Elgie said to me. “She’s just grieving.”

“I’m grieving over what a jerk you are,” Bee told Elgie. “And how you’ve fallen under the spell of Yoko Ono.”

“Lincoln, Alexandra,” I said. “Go to the basement and watch TV.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean it that way,” Elgie tried to assure me.

“Oh, just keep stuffing your face,” Bee hissed at me.

I burst into tears. Of course, she doesn’t know I’m pregnant. But still, I told you how terrible the morning sickness has been, Audrey. For some reason, French toast hasn’t been enough. I woke up the other night with a craving to put Molly Moon’s salted caramel ice cream on it. I bought a carton and started making salted caramel and French toast ice-cream sandwiches. Believe me when I say I should trademark them and start a business. Yesterday Dr. Villar said I’d better watch out, because the baby will be born made of sugar, like a Peep. Who can blame me for crying? I ran upstairs and threw myself on the bed.

After an hour, Elgie appeared. “Soo-Lin,” he said. “Are you OK?”

“No!” I howled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry about Bee, I’m sorry about Bernadette, I’m sorry about the baby.”

“You’re sorry about the baby!” I launched into a whole new round of convulsive sobs.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “It’s just all so sudden.”

“It’s only sudden to you because Bernadette had all those miscarriages. When you’re a healthy woman, like me, and you make love to a man, you get pregnant.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Elgie spoke. “I told Bee we could go to Antarctica.”

“You know I can’t travel there.”

“Just me and Bee,” he said. “She thinks it will help her get some closure. It’s her idea.”

“So of course you’ll go.”

“It’s the only way Bee will let me spend time with her. I miss her.”

“Then by all means, go.”

“You’re an amazing woman, Soo-Lin,” he said.

“Gee, thanks.”

“I know what you want to hear,” he said. “But think about what I’ve been through, what I’m still going through. Do you really want me saying stuff I’m not sure I mean?”

“Yes!” I was done with dignity.

“The last trip of the season leaves in two days,” he finally said. “There’s room on the ship. We have a credit that would otherwise expire. It’s a lot of money. And I owe it to Bee. She’s a good kid, Soo-Lin. She really is.”

So that’s it. Elgie and Bee leave tomorrow for Antarctica. The whole thing is completely tragic, in my opinion. But what do I know? I’m just a Seattle-born secretary.

Love to you,

Soo-Lin





PART SIX


The White Continent