All We Ever Wanted(76)

“It’s been since our ten-year, right?” I said, milking the topic, remembering that I’d missed our twentieth reunion for Melanie’s fortieth-birthday trip to St. Barths, a source of slight contention with Julie, who had wanted me to press Mel for a date change. It was one of the rare times I disagreed with Julie, insisting to her that benchmark birthdays of close friends trumped school reunions.

Teddy shook his head. “No. I’ve seen you since then….Remember? At Cootie Brown’s a few years back?”

“That’s right,” I said, remembering the brief encounter we’d had at one of the most popular barbecue restaurants in town. I think I’d been back to see Julie’s girls’ ballet recital. Regardless, Teddy had been with his wife and sons, and they’d all seemed happy. I remembered feeling vaguely embarrassed for him. I think it must have had something to do with his still living in Bristol, still going to Cootie Brown’s. For some reason, I made an exception for Julie, as I knew her worldview was constantly evolving and that no part of her mindset ever felt provincial.

   “When was that, anyway?” I asked, trying to distract Teddy from my mother’s awkward, trancelike beaming. “Four or five years ago, right?”

“Six, actually,” he quickly replied, then hesitated and added, “It was right after my brother had his first kid.”

“How are they doing?” I asked.

“Good. Great. They had another baby. A girl.”

“That’s great,” I said as Mom, slipping on her oven mitts to check her fries, chimed in with “I saw photos of her on Facebook. Quite the head of red hair! Which side does she get that from, anyway?”

“Dad’s side,” Teddy said. “His mother—my grandma—had red hair.”

Mom closed the oven but kept her mitts on, pointing at Teddy with one. It looked like a foam hand from a sporting event. “You know what? I bet the two of you would have had redheads,” she said, then glanced at me. “It runs on my side, too, you know….”

“Wow, Mom,” I said under my breath as Teddy’s ears and cheeks turned a bright pink. I’d forgotten how easily he blushed.

“Well, he was almost my son-in-law,” she announced, making it even worse.

Dad chuckled and said, “Sorry, Teddy. I’m sure you recall that my wife lacks a filter.”

“Yes, sir. I actually do remember that about my almost mother-in-law,” Teddy replied with a wink.

None of us had expected this joke—at least I hadn’t—and I laughed out loud, feeling myself relax. Teddy seemed to loosen up, too, going on to ask about my brother.

“What’s Max up to these days?” he said.

   “He’s still living in New York,” Mom said. “Still single.”

Teddy nodded and smiled.

“Can I get you a drink, Teddy?” I said, opening the fridge to find a six-pack of Corona, clearly purchased after my mom took note of his cart contents. Quite the thoughtful touch.

“Sure,” he said. “If you’re having one.”

I hadn’t planned on it but took two bottles out, putting them on the counter as I washed my hands and then took a lime from our always-stocked fruit bowl. (Mom tried to make up for her lackluster cooking with a bounty of fresh produce.)

As I listened to her grill Teddy about all the latest crimes in town, I sliced the lime into wedges, picked the two best, and tucked them into the tops of the bottles.

“Cheers,” I said, holding up my beer as I handed him the other.

Teddy smiled back at me, tapping the neck of his bottle against mine, and said, “To reunions.”

“And Sunday supper,” I added, as we both plunged the limes into our beers and took long sips.

Mom sighed a loud, wistful sigh and said to Dad, as if we couldn’t hear, “Those two…they were always so cute together.”



* * *



—

SUPPER TURNED OUT to be stress-free, even pleasant, the topics flowing easily from Bristol happenings to larger current events, including politics, one of Dad’s favorite subjects. Everyone stayed calm and unusually neutral, as I realized that I had no clue about Teddy’s political leanings. On paper, I would have guessed he was a Republican, but I couldn’t recall a single conversation I’d ever had with him about politics.

Then, right at the end of the meal we all simultaneously ran out of topics, creating an awkward silence and a frightening vacuum for my mother to fill.

   “So,” she began, rising to the occasion. “How is Kirk? You haven’t mentioned him at all.”

On the surface, it was a fine question, but I could tell by her expression that it was loaded and at least partially merlot-induced.

“He’s fine,” I said, then imprudently added, “I guess.”

She seized on my hesitation. “You guess?” she said.

“He’s been in Dallas,” I said.

“Doing what?”

“Just…business-type stuff,” I said, sounding either cagey or dim-witted.

“Hmmm. He sure does travel a lot lately,” Mom said, as I caught Dad shooting her a look. I think Teddy must have noticed it, too, because he conspicuously glanced away.

“Right. Well. Maybe you’re onto something there, Mom,” I said, throwing her a curveball.