Just One of the Guys(90)

“Lu—” I begin tentatively.

“What?” she asks.

“If you wanted to write a features article once in a while, I’d be willing to see how it goes.” Her face lights up under the Kabuki makeup. “Strict parameters, though,” I continue. “With full right to refuse to print anything. And you’d have to adhere to the word count, because I don’t want to read ten thousand words on a pie-eating contest.”

Lucia is blinking rapidly against tears. “It’s about time.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Now I have to run. See you later.”

THE RIVERSIDE CLEANUP TURNS out to be more fun than I had anticipated, and I spend too much time chatting as I interview the director of parks and recreation and her many volunteers. By the time I get home, I’m running late, so I heave Buttercup into the car and drive to Mom’s house, fifteen minutes after the instructed time.

Mom is in the kitchen, fetching beers, when I come in. “I really wish you’d been on time today, Chastity. The boys are getting impatient.”

“So? Who cares about the boys?” I say, automatically reverting to my adolescent self.

“Go into the living room,” she says soberly, and a small twinge of fear sings through my joints.

“Come on, Buttercup,” I say, and my dog follows me reluctantly, leaving the microbe she was sniffing. She flops on the carpet with a groan. My brothers and their wives are already seated, Jack and Sarah in the big chair, Lucky and Tara on the couch. Matt is reading Sports Illustrated, and Mark, I’m happy to see, is holding Elaina’s hand. Elaina smiles at me. I sit next to Lucky, shoving his shoulder until he gives me more room.

“Where are the kids?” I ask.

“The kids are watching The Lion King,” Mom says. “Now be quiet, I have to tell you something. Matt, stop reading. Questions come after I’m done. All right?”

I throw Elaina a glance of confusion. Even she, who adores my mother, looks worried.

Mom looks at the floor and folds her arms across her chest. “Harry and I are getting married.”

The refrain from “Hakuna Matata” drifts up from under our feet. Buttercup moans in her sleep. It’s the only sound for a good fifteen seconds.

“Holy crap,” Jack breathes.

“July twenty-third,” Mom continues. “Of course, I’d like you to be there, but if you have a problem with that, I understand.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the solar plexus. She can’t marry Harry. She can’t. “Mom?” I whisper. My throat is tight.

“You just met him,” Mark says.

“Three months ago, honey.”

“Does Dad know?” Matt asks.

“Not yet.” Mom’s jaw is tight.

“Mamí,” Elaina says hesitantly, “why the rush?”

“Life is too short,” Mom answers briskly.

“Mom?” I whisper again, but Lucky interrupts this time.

“Are you sure about this, Mom? I know you’ve been mad at Dad, but this seems a little…dramatic.”

“This isn’t about your father, Luke. It’s about Harry and me and my future.”

“Are we supposed to be happy for you, Ma?” Jack asks, an edge in his voice.

“You can be happy or not,” she says. “It won’t change anything.”

“What about Dad?” Mark asks. “What’s he supposed to do, Mom?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know.” She sighs. “Listen, I know he’s going to be angry. He’ll need you kids.”

“When are you going to tell him?” Sarah asks.

“Tonight.” Mom looks grim. “He’s at a union meeting right now, but he’s coming over later.”

My voice isn’t working. And I think there’s something wrong with my heart, because it’s beating sickly in my chest, slow and too hard.

“Is that all?” Jack asks tightly.

“That’s all.” Mom sighs. “I know this is a bombshell, kids, but I think you should all go home. Call me tomorrow if you have anything else to say. Okay?” The boys rise obediently. “Chastity, honey, will you stay a little while?”

I nod wordlessly.

Like ghosts, my brothers and their spouses gather their kids and trickle out the door. It’s eerily quiet. I just sit on the couch in the fading light and stare at the rug. My mind is blank.

Mom comes in from waving to the last of her grandchildren and sits in her chair across from me. “I know this a surprise, Chastity,” she says.

A razor seems wedged in my vocal cords. “Mom,” I say in a rough whisper, “how can you do this? You love Daddy.”

She stares at me, then comes over and sits down next to me. “Honey, I did. For a long time, he was…” She sighs. “He was the love of my life.”

“So you can’t marry Harry, Mom! Not if you still love Daddy!” I sound like a ten-year-old, but I can’t help it. Buttercup comes over to me and puts her head on my lap.

“Love gets used up, Chastity,” Mom says gently, reaching up to smooth my hair. “If it’s not returned, it gets used up.”

“He loves you, Mom!” A tear drops on Buttercup’s nose, and she licks it away. “Of course Dad loves you.”