I'm Glad About You(13)

“He asked me to wait,” she told her.

“Yeah, fine,” she said, impatient again. Two looming potential cops hovered over them both, trying to sign in. “I don’t know where you’re going to sit, though. There’s some room down there, you can stand down there.” Alison glanced to where she was pointing; it looked like it was in Siberia, it was so far down the hallway. There were at least twenty-five actors in folding chairs, leaning against doorways, a couple sitting on the floor. The place was starting to smell a little too strongly of human sweat.

“She can sit here,” said the guy with the big nose, standing politely and offering her his folding chair. Hello Kitty girl shot him a glance.

“Great,” she said, although she didn’t seem to think so.

“I can stand,” Alison informed the guy. Why was he being so polite? She wasn’t an invalid.

“No, please,” he said, bashfully. Then he shrugged. “I’m from the Midwest. It’s what we do.”





four





“ALISON MOORE IS going to be on television tonight, did you hear? I saw Eleanor Dilmeyer at Kroger’s this afternoon, she heard about it from her mother. They’re real excited about it. Alison’s hit the big time I guess.”

Kyle listened silently as his sister, Susan, puttered around their mother’s kitchen, gossiping about his least favorite subject in the world.

“Be careful with that, Kyle, you don’t need to murder it,” Van chided. “My doctor husband doesn’t always know his own strength!” She turned to the room with an adorable smile. “Dad, can you do it?” She had recently taken to calling his father “Dad.” Kyle found it affected but how would you tell her to stop? His father nodded politely and took the bottle without comment, completing the final two turns of the screw and easing the cork out with a quiet pop. Then he picked up the bottle, leaned over to the counter, and gave it back to Kyle. It was a small, easy gesture but there was no mistaking its intent—don’t embarrass Kyle in front of his folks, now—and Van didn’t mistake it, as a sudden blush rose up her neck. It was a delicate moment, as at times Van’s insecurities could be volatile. Before he could reassure her, she went code red, latching on to Susan’s news with an excruciating brightness.

“Well, that is exciting, that Alison is going to be on television!” she announced. “I haven’t met her yet, but Kyle has told me all about her. The love of his life!”

“You are the love of my life, Van,” he laughed, pretending this was easy. “Which would be why I married you.”

“Awwwww,” said Susan, making an annoying but playful face. “Here, let’s drink to that.” She grabbed two of the glasses Kyle had already poured, a decent inexpensive merlot, and passed them around. “Here’s to Kyle and Evangeline, how many months is it already, Van?” Susan had been the one person who questioned the speed of the engagement and the marriage, and she did so with so much heat that Kyle had actually told her he’d never speak to her again. But when you have only one sister and your parents are in their seventies, forgiveness is more easily accomplished than otherwise. They weren’t like some Catholic families, so many kids across so many years that half of them didn’t even know all their siblings’ names. In a family that size you had the option of letting things fester—Alison had an older sister she hadn’t spoken to in years, and when the subject was touched on she could go on for hours; the history of betrayal and mutual dislike was as long and complicated as some bitter Sicilian feud. Kyle and Susan didn’t have that choice. She had quickly moved past her objections to the suddenness of her little brother’s marriage, and now she was the picture of sisterly acceptance. She went out of her way to tell Van how pretty she looked. She asked Van about her work at the law office. She made approving comments about Van’s clothes. Susan’s interest in Van’s life was terrible in its perfection, but there was no question that she was trying.

Kyle felt deeply the achievement of his parents in these quiet, steady dinners. His father worked full-time well into his sixties as a senior managing officer at a medium-sized firm which made cooling towers. His mother was a cheerful and steady woman who never wavered in her housekeeping or her cooking or her gardening, and all with a perfect hairdo, it was true. The popular media had left these people behind, or somehow managed to make them all look like crazy Republican cranks, an attitude which Kyle found offensive in its carelessness. His father worked hard his whole life, paid his taxes, attended church, and gave money to the poor. That didn’t mean he only watched Fox News.

And Van had appreciated them both from the start. Which was, truth be told, not that long ago. Shortly after his last and clearly final breakup with Alison, Kyle had had no plans to pick up a new girlfriend anytime soon. If anything, he was annoyed by the entire gender; all the too-smart girls in his class at med school frankly put his teeth on edge. So when someone calling herself “Evangeline Shelly” texted him out of the blue to ask if he’d like to see a movie with her, it took him a moment to remember who she was. He finally placed her—a dinner party at a friend’s apartment, apparently he’d been too stupid to realize he was being set up—but before he could get out of it she had more or less arranged the entire date. The movie was fine, but when he finished the glass of wine she had insisted on after, he assumed he would never see her again. That was when she invited him to spend the weekend at a hotel located on some island in the middle of Lake Erie.