MARI STOOD IN her kitchen surveying the mountains of potato salad, the platters of deviled eggs, the baskets overflowing with rolls. Desserts lined the counter—brownies, cookies, cakes, Jell-O layered with whipped cream and fruit. She looked out the window over the sink to the yard outside.
There her boy ran with Chompsky chasing him. Some neighbor kids followed. The screams were shrill and plentiful. The sounds of summer.
The murmur of Kendra’s voice passed by in the hall. Instead of texting or even talking on her phone, she had a flock of girlfriends with her today. Mari thought she caught the name of the new boy Kiki liked, but the giggles overtook any other bits of the conversation. They crossed through the dining room and through the French doors to the deck outside.
There was music out there, muffled by the windows and doors, but as the girls went out, the music came in. Some boys from the high school, including the one who has her daughter pink-cheeked and flustered, are playing in their rockabilly band. It was supposed to be a block party, but most of the action centered at Mari’s house because of the long, sloping yard that made the best set-up for the boys’ band.
There was so much food nobody could possibly eat it all. Everyone had brought dishes to share. Mari snagged a deviled egg and ate it without a plate, licked her fingers, pulled more lemonade from the fridge to set on the table.
“Hey, Mari, where’s your powder room?” Evelyn asked. “Great party, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Mari pointed. “Down the hall. You’ll have to jiggle the handle.”
“Got it.”
Evelyn had hired Mari to work in her coffee shop three months ago. Mari had never had a job before, but now she worked. And she liked it—the sense of independence it gave her.
Left alone again, Mari made sure nothing else needed to be set out. The sliding glass door onto the deck slid open, allowing Ethan, the dog and the gang of kids to spill inside. They attacked the food, swarming it. Her son paused with a plateful of brownies in one hand to give her a one-armed hug but didn’t linger long enough for her to squeeze him back. He was out with his friends before she could do more than touch his hair.
Through the glass doors she could see Ryan reigning over the grill with a beer in one hand, tongs in the other. They’d been talking about him moving back in. The counselor who’d been seeing them both had said it was the next logical step in reconstructing their marriage. Mari had not yet made her decision but she thought of what choice she would make every night when she went to bed by herself.
A lot had changed in the past year.
With a platter of cupcakes in her hand, she used the other to slide open the glass door. A neighbor from down the street helped her, closing it after. She was greeted with cheers. The platter was taken. She was handed a bottle of something cold and sweet but with the bite of liquor underneath it.
“Burgers will be done soon,” Ryan said.
“Sounds good,” she said.
The music from the band got suddenly louder. There was cheering, and when she looked across the lawn, she could see groups of teens dancing on the grass. The younger kids were still playing tag. Some older folks pulled up lawn chairs. Only the teenagers were rocking out.
There was another person in a lawn chair, set a small distance from the others. Ethan ran past, swiveled, darted close enough to say something to the man sitting there while the dog offered up what was surely a slimy, slobber-covered tennis ball.
“Be back in a few minutes,” Mari said to Ryan, whose attention had already been recaptured by the importance of cooking meat.
She crossed the line, being called out to or calling out to party guests. She paused by the man in the lawn chair, who turned to look up at her. Andrew’s hair had grown back. He had a few marks on his face, though she knew beneath the long-sleeved shirt and long pants he wore even in the heat, he was covered with scars. Andrew walked with a cane but was grateful to be able to walk at all.
“Yeah. I’ll tell her. Talk to you soon.” He disconnected the call as Mari walked up. “Beth says hi.”
Beth. The sister neither of them had yet met in person, though they were planning a reunion for later this summer. Mari handed him a bottle from the same cooler hers had come from. “I brought you a drink.”
“Thanks. Great party.” Andrew lifted the bottle to his lips and sipped. Sometimes he could look her in the eye. He was getting better at it. “Thanks for inviting me.”
They still had to dance around what had happened between them. Mari supposed it was something they would never forget but would never talk about. She hadn’t told Ryan. Not even the counselor. For Andrew, she knew it was shame. For herself, it was a matter of forgiveness.
“Food’s ready, if you want some.” She didn’t offer him help in getting up. He was sensitive about feeling helpless, a matter she respected. She did hold the chair steady for him, though, when he pushed himself up and made sure he was sure-footed before he set off toward the house. She watched her brother greet her husband, both of them friendly enough though she doubted they would ever be really close.
Sometimes the past snuck up on her with creeping, quiet feet. She couldn’t put the life that came before completely from her mind and wasn’t sure she wanted to. But here, watching friends, family, coworkers, seeing how much had changed in just one short year, Mari felt completely centered in the life that had come after.
After betrayal. After shame. After everything, including the truth. None of it had broken her, and she didn’t pretend she wasn’t proud of that.
She let her feet glide through grass that was just a little too long and enjoyed the brush of it on her toes. Down the sloping hill, past the band, the swing set, beyond the garden shed. The battered lawn chair was gone, tossed in the trash. The trees that had marked the line between her yard and the field beyond still stand, but the field itself has been torn up and replaced with a new development of big houses on tiny plots of land. She didn’t particularly like it, but that was part of living in the suburbs. Neighbors and houses and people around.
She looked up toward the house, but nobody paid attention to her way down here. Mari closed her eyes. She breathed.
The music allowed no quiet, nor did the sound of voices and screams of running children. Mari opened her eyes and then opened the shed door to pull out the marshmallow sticks. Later, they’d have a fire in the pit and make s’mores. That’s what people liked to do at parties. Well, she liked it, too.
Mari looked for one more moment back toward the trees, then, sticks in hand, she climbed the hill toward the deck, back to the party.
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