The Truth About Forever(73)

"What I'm thinking," Caroline said now, as my mother moved on to another picture, squinting at it, "is that once the kitchen is all painted, I can do some tiling along the molding. Kind of a southwestern look, with different patterns. I have it in here somewhere, hold on."

I watched my mother as she looked through the latest round of pictures, picking up one showing the new sliding glass doors to examine it more closely. I could tell her mind was wandering to other houses, other paint chips, other fixtures: the ones in the townhouses, which were progressing on a parallel timeline to Caroline's project. I knew that to her, the beach house was distant, past, while her projects were present and future, close enough to see from the top of our driveway, rising up over the next hill. Maybe you could go backwards and forwards at the same time, but it wasn't easy. You had to want to. My sister, her mind dancing with images of plantation shutters and smooth blue kitchen tiles, might not have been able to see this. But I could. I only hoped that eventually, my mother would come around.



A few nights later, I worked a fiftieth birthday party with Wish in the neighborhood right next to Wildflower Ridge. They picked me up on their way there, and afterwards, dropping me off, Delia asked a favor.

"I so have to pee," she said. "Would it be all right if I came in for a second?"

"Sure," I said.

"Delia!" Bert said, looking at his watch. "We're in a hurry here!"

"And I'm pregnant and about to pee all over myself," she replied, opening her door and swinging one leg out. "I'll only be a second."

But a second, to Bert, was too long. All night he'd been obsessing about how he needed to be home by ten at the very latest in order to see Update: Armageddon, a show that covered, in his words, "all the latest doings in doomsday theory." But the party had run long, and even though we'd rushed as much as we could, time was clearly running out, not only for the world, but for Bert as well.

"I'm coming too," Kristy said now, unlocking the side door. "Every time I tried to use the bathroom at that party someone was in it."

"My show comes on in five minutes!" Bert said.

"Bert," Wes said, pointing at the dashboard clock, which said 9:54, "it's over. You're not going to make it."

"Update: it's too late," Kristy added.

Bert glared at both of them, then slumped in his seat, looking out the window. For a second it was quiet, except for Delia grunting as she lowered herself onto the grass by the sidewalk. I looked at my dark house, looming up in front of us: my mother was at an overnight meeting in Greensboro, not due back until morning.

"You can come in and watch it here," I said. "I mean, if you want to."

"Really?" Bert looked at me, surprised. "You mean it?"

"Macy," Kristy moaned, knocking me with her elbow, "what are you thinking?"

"She's thinking that she's kind and considerate," Bert said as he quickly slid down the seat to the open door, "unlike some people I could mention."

"I'm sorry," Delia said, putting her hand on my arm, "but I'm really bordering on emergency status with my bladder here."

"Oh, right," I said. "Come on, it's just inside."

"So we're all going in?" Wes asked, cutting the engine.

"Yep," Kristy said. "Looks that way."

As we approached the front steps, Delia waddling, Kristy eyeing the house, with Bert and Wes and Monica bringing up the rear, I told myself that even if my mother had been home, I could have done this, invited my friends in. But the truth was, ever since her talk with me about concerns for my priorities, I'd stopped talking about my job at Wish, or Kristy, or anything related to either. It just seemed smarter, as well as safer.

I unlocked the front door, then pointed Delia to the powder room. She moved across the foyer faster than I'd seen her go in weeks, the door shutting swiftly behind her. "Oh, sweet Jesus," we heard her say. Kristy laughed, the sound sudden and loud, bouncing off the high ceiling above us, and we all looked up at once, following it.

"See," Bert said to her, "I told you this place was huge."

"It's a palace." Kristy peered in the dining room, eyeing my sister's wedding portrait, which was hanging over the sideboard. "How many bedrooms are there?"

"I don't know, five?" I said, walking to the bottom of the stairs and glancing up at the second floor. There were no lights on, and the rest of the house was dark.

"Is the TV this way?" Bert asked me, poking his head into the living room. Wes reached up and popped him on the back of his head, reminding him of his manners. "I mean, is it okay if I find the TV?"

"It's in here," I said, starting down the hallway to the kitchen, hitting light switches as I came upon them. I pointed to the right, to the family room. "The remote should be on the table."

"Thanks," Bert said, crossing quickly to the couch. "Oh, wow, this TV is huge!" Monica followed him, flopping down on the leather recliner, and a second later I heard the set click on.

I walked into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge. "Does anybody want anything to drink?"

"Do you have Dr. Pepper?" Bert called out. I saw Wes shoot him a look. "I mean, no thanks."