Like she’d appeared out of thin air, a willowy young woman was by his side, holding a long metal stick. “Size eight?”
“Uh . . . yes, I think so.”
She hooked the dress and brought it down off the wall, handing it to Ava. “The dressing rooms are near the front.”
“Um, how much is that dress?” Butch asked as Ava disappeared again.
“Eighty-five dollars.”
“What? For a kid dress?”
“You’re in luck, though.” She smiled. “We’re running a special. Half off.”
“Oh, good.”
“The second one.”
“What?”
“Buy one at full price and get the second one half off.”
“I don’t need a second one.”
“But think of all the money you’ll save. Also,” she said, whipping out what looked like a business card, “if you spend one hundred dollars today, you’ll get 40 percent off.”
“Well, that’s something.”
“Your next purchase. But you have to come in on Tuesday or Wednesday of the first week of the month.” She whipped out another card. “Now, with each purchase, you get a hole punched. After twenty punches, you get five dollars off.”
“That doesn’t seem like a—”
“And don’t forget she’ll need shoes, a headband, and some jewelry. Let me know if you need any help.” And she floated away.
Butch sighed, stuffed the cards in his pockets, and wandered to the front to find Ava. In one of the dressing rooms, shut by nothing more than a curtain, he could see her feet. “You doing okay?”
“Yes, fine. I’ll be out in a second.”
Butch walked to the very front of the store. He needed some air. And some clarity. He wished he could ask Jenny if eighty-five bucks was too much to spend on a dress. She would know these things. She always knew when something was important enough to spend money on. She knew which expecting couples needed gift cards and which would be offended by them. She could anticipate with amazing accuracy who needed what at Christmas. She had a budget for everything and, Butch realized, always used coupons. Every time they went out to eat, she produced some sort of coupon.
He leaned against the wall that led out of the store, watching shoppers walk this way and that. His attention landed across the way. Directly opposite Bella’s Ball was Bob’s Sporting Goods. It had been around since Butch was a kid, which was really the last time he remembered going to the mall.
And then he saw them. Larry and Chip. Chip had grabbed a football out of the bin, and they were playfully tossing it back and forth. Butch sighed loudly. He’d give anything to be over there and not here.
He checked his watch and was turning to go tell Ava to hurry up when he caught the tail end of her dress disappearing back into the dressing room. The curtain zipped shut.
“Ava?” Butch said, standing in front of the dressing room. “How does it look? Can I see?”
“It’s fine, Dad. It fits. That’s all that matters.”
“You don’t want to show me?”
He watched the dress drop to the ground, puddling at her feet. In less than a minute, she was out, handing him the dress. “This one will work.”
“You don’t want to try more on?” He was sensing she was upset, but he didn’t know why.
“Nope. It’s fine.”
“Okay . . .” Butch held up the dress. “You need shoes? Jewelry? Hair stuff?”
Ava looked like she was considering it, but then she shook her head. Butch went to the register at the back of the store and paid, after telling the lady that no, he didn’t want to spend fifteen more dollars to make it to one hundred. He grabbed the bag and walked to the front of the store, where he found Ava standing at the railing, looking across the mall at Bob’s Sporting Goods.
“Okay, are you ready to go?”
She was fixated on something. Studying it. Maybe she saw Larry and Chip, but he couldn’t find them any longer. Now it was just a crowded store with lots of dads and sons.
“You wanna go over to—?”
“We better go. It’s a school night,” Ava said. She took the sack and walked in front of him as they made their way back out to the car. Ava was awfully quiet. Maybe it was the sugar. It amped you up and then dropped you like a sack of potatoes.
“You’re sure there’s nothing else you need?”
“Would you mind if I turned on the game?”
Butch glanced at the radio. Was this a trick question? But she reached for the knob, turned it on, and didn’t need to change the station. He always kept it on sports talk. Butch found himself smiling. He had no idea Ava was interested in sports. Maybe this weekend he could teach her to throw a ball and even pitch, depending on her arm strength.
On the drive home, Butch would look over at her every once in a while and grin, and she would grin back and say something like “Good game, huh?” Actually it was a blowout, but she was only eight.
As they pulled into the drive of their home, the sun was already gone and the house was dark. Man, time flies at the mall, he thought. He checked his watch. They still had to order pizza and get her bath in.
“Dad?”
He looked at her. “Yes?”
“Do you think I could go with you to work sometime? Just to watch the construction?”
Butch ruffled her hair. “Definitely! I would love for you to come. I’ll even get you a hard hat.”
“Oh. Good.” She smiled, got out, and walked to the house, dragging her dress bag behind her.
CHAPTER 16
BETH
BEFORE KIDS, Beth had been superb. She dressed well. She multitasked well. She socialized well. Larry’s family often said, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to Larry.” A lot of things had slipped after kids, namely her mind and sense of self, but she didn’t regret any of it. She loved being a mom. And the one thing she still did well was cook. In fact, she was better now than when they got married. She’d started their marriage equally married to recipes. As her confidence grew in the kitchen, she began experimenting but returned to recipes after a few failed attempts at chicken dishes. Jenny was, and always would be, the creative cook. Still, Beth knew food would be in her children’s fondest memories of her.
Yet in the midst of perfecting homemade mac and cheese and learning to quickly double a batch of fried chicken for unexpected guests, she’d forgotten to teach her gift to her children. She’d seen it as her duty to provide home-cooked meals to them as often as possible (which in certain sports seasons was almost never), but not once did it cross her mind that this might be a useful skill for her kids.
Now, though, she was trying to heed the advice of Dr. Reynolds, who encouraged her to seize the moments in the here and now. “Don’t dwell in the past. Don’t live in a future you’re not promised. Just be present today.”
She knew all too well about futures not promised. Of all the people in the world, Jenny Browning had deserved her future. She was the best there was—caring, thoughtful, loving, nonjudgmental. Everyone adored her. Even Helen.
Between gathering all she needed from the cabinets and the fridge, Beth listened for Robin upstairs. She’d made it to the shower. Then she heard her blow-drying her hair. Beth beat three eggs with half-and-half, her secret ingredient, and chopped up onion, bell peppers, ham, and tomatoes. In a small bowl nearby was a heap of Colby jack cheese.
She stepped back and smiled. The blow-dryer was off, which meant it wouldn’t be long before Robin came downstairs. And Robin was not one to skip breakfast, so Beth figured while she made her an omelet, she would teach her too. Just the basics first, and over the next few days she’d show her some fancier moves. By the end of the month, she’d practically be a pro. Later they’d move on to more challenging dishes, like chicken and pork. Dr. Reynolds had encouraged her to wait to be asked, but the Mustache wasn’t a mom losing two of her children in one summer. Somehow she’d talk Robin out of marrying Marvin while simultaneously preparing her for the rig
ht man to come along.
Behind her came the noise of Robin rushing down the stairs. She knew what each of her children’s footsteps on the stairs sounded like. Robin’s were fast, staccato, and precise. With Nathan, there was usually a trip or stumble of some sort. And Chip took two at a time.
“Hey, Mom,” Robin said. Her purse was thrown over her shoulder, and her keys were in her hand. She grabbed the last banana off the counter. “I gotta run.”
“What? Wait. Where?”
“Mom, I’m planning a wedding. I’ve got a billion things to do.”
“I know. Of course. But look.” She gestured grandly at the counter full of food. “I was going to make you an omelet.”
“Why?”
“To feed you, first and foremost. But also to teach you to make one.”
Robin looked genuinely baffled. “Why?”
“Honey, you’re about to be a wife.” Wife came out sort of hoarse, not at all intentionally. “And motherhood will follow that. I’m afraid I’ve done a horrible job preparing you for this moment. Yesterday you were five, and now, here you are . . .” Her voice gave out because really, she wanted to talk her out of this marriage, not through it.
Robin’s expression grew concerned. “Mom?”
“I’m fine. Sorry. It’s the onion. Fumes that would rival Chernobyl.”
“Cher-what?”
Beth began to speak fast and inconsistently, her tears spilling over. “I just want you to be able to cook. Eggs are a staple. Your dad and I lived on eggs when you kids were young and we were broke.”
Robin’s head was moving like she was trying to follow the start and stop of every sentence.
“And I’m also concerned you don’t know what Chernobyl is, honey. Didn’t they teach you that in school? And why didn’t they have home ec at your school? What is going to happen when a button falls off Marvin’s pants—which always drag on the ground? And why aren’t you going back to college?”
Robin set her keys down and walked to the side of the counter where Beth stood. “Of course this is important, Mom. Please, it’s okay. Stop crying. Show me how to make this omelet.”
Beth wiped her nose. “Chernobyl was the site of a nuclear meltdown.”
Robin nodded vaguely. “This is one of those moments where you’re trying to speak to me by metaphor, right?”
“No,” Beth sighed.
Robin’s phone dinged and she pulled it out of her pocket. “Oh no . . .”
“What?”
“Marvin’s car broke down again. I have to go pick him up or he’s going to be late for work.”
“Who would order pizza in the morning?”
“He likes to get in early. He’s very prompt. Haven’t you noticed that?”
No, she hadn’t noticed that. “I just don’t know him well enough to—”
Robin grabbed her keys off the counter. “I’m so sorry, but we’ll do this soon,” she said, waving her hands in a circle toward the eggs. “Truly. I’ll put it on my calendar, okay? Are you okay?” She began backing toward the door. “If you’re not, tell me. Should I get Dad?”
Beth smiled wide enough to throw her cheeks out. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Totally fine. It was a spontaneous combustion of emotion—kind of like when people just burst into flames for no reason.”
Robin reached for the door handle behind her. “What? People burst into flames?”
“No . . . I mean yes, sometimes. It’s very rare. I’m just speaking metaphorically.”
Robin blinked. “Can I go get Marvin?”
“Yes, of course. Have a good day. We’ll talk egg soon.”
Robin practically vanished behind the door just as Beth reached out to ask if she could pray for her, if they could pray together.
At the same time, Chip seemed to materialize in the room.
“What are you doing?”
Beth sighed, looking at all the food. “Making breakfast, like I do every morning. Your cereal is in the pantry.”
“What are you making?”
“I was going to teach Robin how to make an omelet.”
“Cool. Can I learn?”
“Honey, not now.” Beth pushed her fingers deep into her temples. A headache was coming on. “Where’s your father? I think he’s outside doing something with a kite, but he’ll probably leave for work soon. Grab the cereal. You can eat it straight out of the box today. It’s summer, right?”
“Are you okay?” Chip asked, walking to the pantry.
“I’m fine.”
“Maybe I should pray for you today.” Chip stood there and said a quiet little prayer for his mom. It made Beth want to cry harder, but she held it in.
Then Chip gave Beth a quick side hug and grabbed his cereal, taking it into the living room. Beth dropped to the counter, her head buried in her arms. Why couldn’t she stop crying?
“Beth?” Her head popped up and there stood Daphne, her eyes wider than normal. Daphne was anxious by nature, so now she looked extra anxious. “What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
“We were going to the scrapbooking shop today, remember? Larry said I should come on in. . . .” Her thumb was pitched over her shoulder but the rest of her was moving forward like she was about to consume Beth with a suffocating hug. Beth stood upright and went to the sink, pretending to need to wash her hands.
“What’s the matter?” Daphne asked again.
Beth wiped her hands and turned, leaning against the sink. “I don’t know. I’m crying a lot lately. It turns out that Robin is getting married and she doesn’t even know how to make an omelet.”
“Oh, congratulations.” Daphne blinked. “Is that a requirement? The omelet?”
“She’s not prepared for this world. I haven’t done my job. Any decent mother shows her daughter how to cook. It’s part of the deal. You teach them to shave their legs, pluck their eyebrows, and make an omelet.”
Daphne looked frightened as her gaze roamed over the ingredients on the counter. “Well, Robin is really smart, you know. Savvy. You’ve taught her a lot of things. She goes to church, she helps at the food pantry . . .”
“I haven’t done anything for her. She can’t sew on a button. She can’t iron a shirt.” Beth covered her mouth. Another sob was about to escape. “She can’t hem, Daphne! And I know it sounds like I just stepped out of 1950, but she has no idea what to do as a wife.”
“Have you bought her the book What to Expect Before You’re Expecting?”
Beth walked to Daphne, gently placing her hands on her belly. “Daphne, I know we’re like two decades apart in age and you probably think of me as a dinosaur, but let me tell you something. The time goes by so fast. Don’t take any of it for granted. One day they’re wrapped in a blanket, held tightly in your arms, and you’re singing them a lullaby. The next thing you know, they’re unable to use a whisk. And they don’t know how to get through hard times by themselves. It happens that fast.” Beth sniffed and took a couple of steps back. “Listen, can we reschedule?”
“Sure, of course. I’m behind on bookkeeping for Tippy and Butch anyway.” Daphne reached between them to pat Beth on the arm.
“The truth is, I’m seeing a therapist,” Beth said. It felt like a confession that needed to happen.
“Oh.”
“Yes, I know. Please believe me when I say this is the first time in my life. I’m not typically this toxically emotional.”
“Honey, it’s okay.”
“Dr. Reynolds told me to live in the moment, and I’m trying, but . . . Robin isn’t here with me. She’s out there, living in her own moment without me. And we don’t even know this boy.”
“What was his name again?”
“Marvin. Marvin Hood!”
“Sorry, I mean that doctor you mentioned.”
“Reynolds.” Beth wiped her tears again. “It’s such a sobering thing to realize you can’t get time back. It’s gone before you even
know it came.”
The two of them stood there for a moment, Beth staring into the bowl of whipped eggs, lightly dashed with pepper, Daphne just staring.
“Well, I’ll see you at scrapbooking,” Daphne said, her voice so heavy with forced cheer it sank the already-weighty atmosphere.
“Okay, see you then.” For the third time this morning, Beth forced a smile. Then it dropped from her face when she realized that after finishing Nathan’s graduation photos, her next scrapbook would be of the wedding. “Also, please don’t mention the wedding . . . to anybody.” She’d only told Butch, and through a text, not even a phone call. She told Butch because she would’ve told Jenny and he was the next closest thing . . . sort of.
“Okay.”
She so desperately needed everything to go back to where it had been, just for a few months, just for a little bit—Robin in school pursuing her degree, Nathan in his senior year, hoping for the college of his dreams, Chip, young and affable and still willing to hug his mom in public.
Out the window she saw Larry run across the lawn. What he was doing out there before work was anybody’s guess, but he’d better get dressed or he’d be late. Larry, for now, was the only normal, steady thing in her life.
The front door opened and Larry walked in, sweaty and grinning and breathing hard. He went for a glass of water.
“I’d offer you breakfast,” Beth sighed, “but it’d make you late for work.”
“Yeah, listen, I wanted to talk to you about that.”
“About what?”
And for the next ten minutes, he stood at the kitchen counter and explained why his Summer of Intense Fun idea meant that he needed to take all of his vacation time at once.
Like an unfortunate ending to a meringue pie, her life was collapsing, one overly beaten egg white at a time.
CHAPTER 17
HELEN
“IT’S SO NICE TO SEE YOU, HELEN. Your nose is looking wonderful.”
“Thank you, Dr. Reynolds,” Helen said, taking a seat in a chair so full of stuffing it was hard to keep her spine erect. “Once he realigned it after the first debacle, it was quite lovely.”