She smiled ruefully, tossing a tissue into the garbage can. “It’s a total disaster,” she said with a sigh.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
“Well, in a way it’s good,” I said finally, remembering what Delia had said to me, at that first party, all those weeks ago. “We know where we stand. Now things can only get better. Right?”
She didn’t look convinced. But that was okay. So she didn’t fully get it yet. But I had a feeling she would. And if not, there was more than enough time, now that this had finally begun, for me to explain it to her.
When we came out into the kitchen a few minutes later, Delia was laying out crab cakes. She took one look at my mother and insisted that she go upstairs and take a hot shower and a few deep breaths. To my surprise, my mother went with no argument, disappearing for a full twenty minutes. When she came back down, hair damp and wearing fresh clothes, she looked more relaxed than I’d seen her in weeks. There is a certain relief in things getting as bad as they could be. Maybe this second time around my mother was beginning to see that.
“What did you say to her?” my sister asked me, as we watched her come down the stairs.
“Nothing, really,” I said. I felt her looking at me, but this was partially true. Or true enough.
Kristy was at the front door, tray in hand, as my mother passed her. “Wine?” she offered.
My mother paused, about to demur politely, but instead she took a deep breath. “What is that wonderful smell?”
“Meatballs,” I said. “You want one?”
Again, I expected a no. But instead, she reached for a wineglass, took a sip, and nodded at me. “Yes,” she said. “I would love one.”
Now, as she stood with all of us in the front window, there was one last thing I was wondering about. I’d held off as long as I could, hoping someone would offer an explanation, but finally there was nothing to do but ask outright. “So,” I said, still looking out at the cars, “where’s Wes?”
I saw Monica and Kristy exchange a look. Then Kristy said, “He had to run some pieces down to the coast this morning. But he said he’d stop by on his way back, to see if we needed him.”
“Oh,” I said. “Right.”
An awkward silence followed this, during which I, and everyone else, just stared out at the rain. Gradually, though, I became aware of someone sighing heavily. Then clearing her throat. Repeatedly.
“Are you okay?” Bert asked Kristy.
She nodded, letting loose with another vehement a-hem. I glanced over at her, only to find her staring at me. “What?” I said.
“What?” she repeated. Clearly, she was annoyed. “What do you mean, what?”
“I mean,” I said, somewhat confused, “what’s the problem?”
She rolled her eyes. Beside her, Monica said, “Donneven.”
“Kristy.” Delia shook her head. “This isn’t the time or the place, okay?”
“The time or the place for what?” Caroline asked.
“There is never,” Kristy said adamantly, “a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”
“Throbbing?” my mother said, leaning forward and looking at me. “Who’s throbbing?”
“Macy and Wes,” Kristy told her.
“We are not,” I said indignantly.
“Kristy,” Delia said helplessly. “Please God I’m begging you, not now.”
“Wait a second, wait a second.” Caroline held her hands up. “Kristy. Explain.”
“Yes, Kristy,” my mother said, but she was looking at me. Not really mad as much as confused. Join the club, I thought. “Explain.”
Bert said, “This ought to be good.”
Kristy ignored him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Wes wants to be with Macy. And Macy, whether she’ll admit it or not, wants to be with Wes. And yet they’re not together, which is not only unjust, but really, when you think about it, tragical.”
“That’s not a word,” Bert pointed out.
“It is now,” she said. “How else can you explain a situation where Wes, a truly extraordinary boy, would be sent packing in favor of some brainiac loser who severed ties with Macy because she didn’t take her job at the library seriously enough and, even worse, because she dared to say she loved him?”
“Why,” I said, feeling as embarrassed while this was broadcast as I had been the first time she’d stated it aloud, “do we have to keep talking about this?”
“Because it’s tragical!” Kristy said.
“Jason decided on the break because you told him you loved him?” my mother asked me.
“No,” I said. “Yes. Not exactly. It’s a long story.”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” Kristy said. “It’s wrong. You should be with Wes, Macy. The whole time you guys were hanging out, talking about how you were both with other people, it was so obvious to everyone. It was even obvious to Wes. You were the only one who couldn’t see it, just like you can’t see it now.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Monica said, picking some lint off her apron.
“Wes never felt that way,” I told her. I was fully aware that my mother—and Caroline, not to mention everyone else—was listening, but somehow I didn’t care. Too much had happened this night already. “He was always going back to Becky, just like I was going back to Jason.”