Panic started to replace the nausea I was feeling.Need to go from here. Now.
I start to stand, “excuse me, I’m just going to…,” but I’m cut off by my mother, making her first contribution for the evening.
Time stops.
As does my breath, my heart, and everything else in the room.
“Jenny,” my mother pauses to make sure she has commanded the attention of the entire room, “Don’t be ridiculous—they are just old friends.” Ellen smiles that model smile that used to grace a few catalogs and one perfume ad. “Lily isn’t his type at all.”
I’m frozen. Jenny can sense, despite her vapid personality, that something is afoot and seems surprised my mother is even speaking to us.
“Oh.” That is all she said, glancing at me before my mother spoke again.
“In fact, Felicia heard all about how Lily got herself stuck in Estes during a snowstorm,” she used her fingers as air quotes around the word stuck and pauses for dramatic effect. She smiles again, this time with more teeth, and presses on, “but Josh assured Felicia that he has zero romantic interest in Lily. At all.”
For her part, the bride in question had been walking back into the dining room with dessert plates and had the grace to be unable to make eye contact with me. I vaguely heard her whisper something unintelligible as she put the plates down and rushed back to the kitchen. Eddie had been following her with dessert and was left standing, looking confused, before he went after her.
“The point is, Jenny,” my mother continues, looking at me and not my cousin, clearly relishing whatever is playing out on my face, “Josh told him Felicia all about Lily’s sad little crush. He’s entirely single. You should call him.”
I watch as my father abruptly stands while glaring at my mother, his chair crashing on the floor behind him. Glaring down at her he hissed, “Ellen! That is enough!!!”
The grandchildren, whose chatter was audible from around the corner, seemed to have all stopped talking at once. In fact, all the sound has stopped. It’s as if the entire family is taking a collective gasp.
“What?” My mother doesn’t even bother to look at her husband. “Someone had to tell her, she’s been making a fool of herself—”
With that, my father slammed his fist on the table just in front of my mother’s seat. She doesn’t even flinch. A few dessert plates rattle in their stack. She just continues to smile at me.
She loves this.
My father leans into her personal space and enunciates close to her ear, “I said. That’s enough.”
My mother deigns to turn her head to the side and look up at him. She raises one eyebrow as if to say she’s done talking because she decided she was done. For my part, I stand and walk over to my father, on my way back to my room. He’s standing again, but I can’t look directly at him. My humiliation is too acute. But I stop, right next to him, plant my hand on his shoulder, and leave my hand there for a moment. He deflates under my touch like he had been a balloon, and I was the pin. He put his opposite hand on my hand, and we are just there, together. The first sound in the house is the squeaky wheels and plodding of stoppers on a walker. Nona has now made her way over to my mother and I can practically hear her gripping the handles of her walker. In the corner of my periphery, I see she stops right next to her eldest daughter’s chair.
“Happy Passover Ellen. I hope you’ve enjoyed dinner. Now, however, I think you should leave.”
Ellen. That’s who she is. No mother, mom, or eema would treat their daughter the way she treats me. Without waiting to hear Ellen’s response, I put one foot in front of the other, making my way to my room. I feel the burn of wet heat behind my eyes, the adrenaline racing in my heart, and the shuddering of a sob attempting to escape my chest up the column of my throat. Roselyn, who had been behind my father at the entrance from the den, is at my side and has tears in her eyes. I raise a placating hand to stop her from speaking to me before she cracks the fragile remains of my dignity here in this hallway with everyone’s eyes on my back.
“I’m going to bed now,” my cheerful, fake voice sounds like it is coming from a voiceover rather than my mouth.My back is to the dining room, so no one can see me but Ros. And the children. They all look frightened. Luckily for them, they don’t live in a world where adults raise their voices. I don’t feel sorry for myself; I’m just exhausted. I turn to my sister without meeting her eyes. “Maybe Emmy can come tuck me in later? I’m bushed. I need to make some phone calls and so, maybe in about an hour?”
“Sure honey.” Roselyn plays along. “Emmy brought mud masks; you can do them with her later.”
She touches my arm as I pass.
Everyone knows I have no one to call. It’s the first night of Passover, and therefore, yom tov. Who would I be calling?I didn’t even make it to the conclusion of the Seder.
Nope,no self-pity thoughts.Dinner was a huge success.My dad stood up for me.After I stood up for him. We had a whole thing. It probably made Ellen jealous, and that’s why she lashed out… There I go, trying to figure out narcissism. The sob doesn’t leave my chest. It’s just lodged there, painful, like a pill that went down the wrong way. The tears are flowing freely, though. That’s probably healthy.
Maybe normal?
After I hear the sounds of the end of the Seder dying out, I hear a soft knock at my door. I answer through the door as an act of self-preservation. Roselyn leans against the door, asking if I’m available to talk to Felicia for a minute. Thanking God she knows me well enough to stand as my intermediary, I say no. Then I crack the door and whisper for Roslyn to hear.
“Look, tell her everything about me and Josh, it’s fine. Otherwise, she and Ed are going to feel so awkward around him tomorrow. Tell her this is what Ellen always does.” I sigh. “It’s not Felicia’s fault. Make it clear Ros, that it’s not her fault but I can’t… I need to be alone now.”
“I understand. Do you still want Emunah to come by?”
“Yes. Tell her give me 5 minutes and to bring those mud masks. We’ll readPercy Jacksontogether or play cards.”
“Sure thing, Lily.”
