TWENTY-THREE
June, Continued
Denny called the following Friday. Mom sat at the kitchen table after work, talking and giggling during their hour-long conversation. Though Abby pretended not to be listening, she managed to hear enough to reassure her that nothing was really going on. After a while she allowed Mom the privacy she deserved and ran down to the Point for a swim. Mom was still on the phone when she got back, and when she finally hung up she told Abby that Denny would be in town in a few days and that they had made dinner plans.
“You’re going on a date?” Abby asked as she dried her hair.
“No, not really.” Mom looked through the fridge for something to prepare for dinner. “We’re just a couple of old friends going out to catch up with each other.”
“I thought you did that at the wedding. You talked to him almost the whole night.”
“That was a couple of hours, Abby.” Mom pulled a halfeaten ham out of the fridge and started slicing it for sandwiches. “It’s been almost thirty years since we last saw each other. A couple of hours is hardly enough time to fill each other in.”
Abby had to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe at one time Mom had had romantic feelings for someone other than Dad, but that was before she realized that he was the love of her life. You don’t get to have that twice. Mom wasn’t stupid; she had to know that. Therefore Abby didn’t raise a fuss when Mom went out with Denny the following Wednesday evening.
It was weird, watching her mother get ready. Mom came home early from work and took a shower, even though she’d showered in the morning. She took more time than usual with her makeup and hair, making sure every curl was in just the right place. Abby went into the bedroom as her mother decided what to wear. She laid several outfits on the bed and sighed.
“I need some new clothes.”
“What’s wrong with this?” Abby asked, picking up one of her work suits by its hanger.
“Too businessy.”
“How ’bout this?” She pointed to the pale-peach dress Mom had worn to the wedding, fresh back from the dry cleaner.
“Too dressy. And besides, Denny saw me wear that the other night.” She paused and added, “Oh my Lord, I sound like you.”
Abby tried not to be offended.
Finally Mom settled on a silk blouse and gray skirt that she sometimes wore to work.
Denny came by at six thirty. He greeted Josh and Abby and gave Mom a peck on the cheek. Abby cringed. Mom handed Josh a twenty for pizza delivery, and made a show of forbidding them from leaving or having friends over while she was gone. Abby watched from the doorway as Denny opened the passenger door and helped Mom inside. He turned to Abby and nodded with a smile. He waited for a smile in return—but didn’t get one—before climbing into his car and pulling out of the driveway.
When the pizza came, Josh inhaled six slices while playing Xbox, and Abby nibbled while she read an article in Seventeen about troublesome facial hair. Electrolysis, lasers, waxing, shaving, creams . . . if only getting rid of Denny would be so easy.
“What?” Josh said as he played.
“Did I say something?”
“Something about getting rid of Denny.” Josh stood and turned off the Xbox. He plucked the pizza box off the floor and wandered into the kitchen. “What’s the problem? He seems like a nice enough guy.”
Josh unwrapped a bag of popcorn and stuck it into the microwave.
“Don’t you find it a little weird?” She reached into the cupboard for the popcorn bowl, then remembered what Dad had used it for—of course her mother had tossed it. Instead, she pulled out the biggest Tupperware container she could find and set it on the counter.
“Do I find what weird?” Now Josh was shoving a handful of M&M’s into his mouth. The way he ate, he should have been a pudge.
“Mom having dinner with Denny.”
“Dinner? No. People do it all the time.” Josh gave Abby a once-over. “Normal people.”
“You know what I mean, Josh. Think about it—”
“No. Don’t think about it.”
They agreed to watch a movie and played Rock-Paper-Scissors to decide who got to pick the DVD. Josh won three out of four, so Abby was stuck watching a stupid shoot-’emup action flick. An hour into the movie, Josh fell asleep on the couch, but Abby didn’t turn it off, trying to keep her mind occupied and her eyes off the clock. She wanted to stop wondering when Mom would make it home, and what Dad would think if he knew where she was.
While the ending credits rolled, she phoned Spence. “Hey, you.”
“Hey yourself. Is your mom home yet?”
Abby shook her head, as if he could see. “What about yours? She around?”
Spence laughed. “Silly question. Of course she’s not. She’s out with Andreas. . . . He’s the spice of the night. The Maltese Falcon.”
“Is he a nice guy?”
Spence chuckled. “He brought me a Snickers, so I have to like him.”
Abby wandered into the kitchen. “Seriously,” she said, pacing slowly, “doesn’t it bother you when your mom brings one guy after another into your life?”
“Only when she brings them home.”
Abby halted abruptly. “You mean when they sleep there?”
“They’re not sleeping.” Spence quickly turned the tables. “Abby, if you’re worried about your mom and this guy—”
“I’m not, really. I’m just not used to my mom going out with strange men.”
Spence sighed. “I know. But you said they’re just old friends, right?”
Abby leaned her forehead against the fridge. “He used to be her boyfriend.”
“Used to be. She didn’t marry him, right?”
“Right.”
“So don’t worry about it. Hey, I used to be head over heels in love with Heather Freeman when we were in kindergarten, and I’m not anymore. But we’re friends.”
Abby stood up straight. “Heather Freeman? The one with all the piercings and snake tattoos?”
“Yep. I used to follow her around school, and my heart was broken when she moved away during first grade to live with her dad in Indianapolis. When she came back our freshman year I didn’t even recognize her.”
“She looks like Marilyn Manson.”
“I know! Not exactly my type, but we had biology and art together last year, and you know what? She’s pretty cool. Actually a fun person to hang around with.”
“Point taken.”
There was a flash of light against the kitchen wall. Abby checked and saw headlights in the driveway.
“She’s back. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Abby said quickly, hanging up.
Spy time. Abby crawled to the couch and peeked over the back to see through the picture window. Denny’s Lincoln idled in the driveway, but Mom didn’t get out for a while. Finally Denny did, and went over to the passenger side to help her out. As he walked her to the door, Abby slid along the wall to the corner of the room where they wouldn’t see her. They talked for another few minutes, though too quietly for Abby to hear.
The headlights ran across the living room wall and slowly disappeared as Mom stumbled inside. She literally tripped, nearly falling into the piano, and giggled.
“Whooops!”
“Hi, Mom,” Abby said, sliding onto the couch next to Josh.
“Oh, hi there.” Her mother wore a goofy grin. “How was your night?”
“Fine. How was yours?”
Mom’s eyes lit up. Then she sighed. “Oh, not bad.” She started toward the kitchen, but managed to catch her foot on the piano bench. As she caught herself, she exploded in laughter. Josh awoke with a start.
“Mom?” he said groggily, rubbing his eyes. “Have you been drinking?”
She held her hand up, her thumb and index fingers just centimeters apart. “Maybe just a wee bit. Just one glass of wine.”
“You’re kind of fun when you’re sloshed!”
She snapped her fingers and did a few mini-Rockette kicks while singing the theme song from Sesame Street. Josh and Abby roared.
Mom theatrically sang and danced her way up the stairs. “Good ni-ight,” she called before swaggering down the hall into her bedroom.
Josh and Abby couldn’t stop laughing. Seeing her so happy was wonderful—but Abby’s stomach hurt, and it wasn’t from laughing.
THE NEXT MORNING MOM DIDN’T COME OUT OF HER ROOM. At ten thirty, four hours after Mom usually got out of bed, Abby went upstairs and knocked on the bedroom door. “Mom? Are you in there?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Can I come in?”
“Mm-hmm.” Abby opened the door to find her mother still in her pajamas, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring out the window.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Mom shook her head. “Did something happen last night?” If Denny had so much as said an unkind word, Abby would let him have it.
“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Last night was wonderful.”
“Then what’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?”
“Because last night was wonderful.” Mom started to cry softly.
Abby took a deep breath and counted to three. The first words that popped into her head weren’t exactly pleasant. “It really was a date, wasn’t it?”
Mom nodded, still looking out the window. “Yes, I guess you could say that—but I don’t want you to think that I lied to you. I was only fooling myself. Denny was a great guy at eighteen—but he’s an amazing man now.”
Her mother had actually gone out on a real date. Abby couldn’t believe it. It was too soon.
“You broke up with him once, though, right? You must have had a reason.”
Mom shook her head slowly. “During our senior year of high school his family moved to Nebraska, and he wound up going to college there. We were too young to handle a long-distance relationship. It was just too hard to stay connected.”
Did you love him as much as you loved Dad? Abby wanted to ask, but she was scared to hear the answer.
“So . . . are you going to go out with him again?”
“No.”
Phew. What a relief.
“Part of me wants to see him again, but most of me doesn’t.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Mom said, her voice rising and falling like a bird struggling with a broken wing. “You couldn’t possibly. I love your dad and won’t ever stop loving him. I know he’s gone, but he’s still . . . around me all the time. When I wake up, I expect to hear him singing in the shower. When I’m at work, I find myself waiting for him to call me during his lunch hour, just to say hello. When I come home and see his car in the driveway I imagine that he’ll greet me at the door with a smile and a kiss. He’s everywhere in this house, yet he isn’t. He is all around me but I can’t be with him.” She took a deep breath and looked at Abby. “You have to understand—it’s killing me.”
“This might surprise you,” Abby said after a long silence, “but I guess I do understand, kind of.”
“I thought that maybe spending an evening with Denny would make me feel human again,” Mom went on, “and it did. Temporarily. Now I just feel like a monster. How could I have—? How. Could. I?”
Abby wished she could find the right words to make her mother feel better, but she was at a loss. She was shamefully glad Mom felt like she did. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing you can say. I have to figure this out for myself.”
Denny called that evening, and the next day, and the next, but Mom wouldn’t talk to him. She made Josh or Abby answer the phone, all the while shaking her head and mouthing, “I’m not home.” When Abby made excuses for her mother, Denny sounded sad, and his voice grew sadder every time he called. Abby almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.