“Oh, we sure were. Predestination and all that noise.”
“I see.”
“Bet it’s also easy to see why I want nothing more to do with it now.” Pauline lay on the horn as someone attempted to cut her off. Thelma jumped in her seat, holding on to her seatbelt as if it were the last line of defense between her and God’s presence. “What kind of slimeball deity makes you travel through time as part of your life script? I ask you, how does that work out with faith? No, sir, I don’t need that. I go to yoga now.”
The car swerved into another lane. Thelma also held her breath, Pauline’s words swimming in the soup that was hermind.Is there something to predestination?She had always wondered. One of those endless questions she had as a child growing up. Some of the boarders and vagrants that came their way had believed in predestination, and Thelma never understood how one Christian sect could be Calvinistic and another, like her Lutheran church, wasn’t. All Thelma’s mother could say was,“Why do you think there are so many protestants, Thel? We can’t agree on anything. Come up with enough questions, and you could start your own sect.”
That always settled uneasily in Thelma’s stomach—if there wasn’t one universal truth, then what was there?
She thanked Pauline for the ride. Her friend couldn’t come in for coffee since she had to be elsewhere that evening, but Thelma quickly discovered that there was already someone home—and not just because she recognized Megan’s car in the driveway. (The Impala currently lived in the garage.)
“I’m home!” Thelma called when she entered the living room and locked the front door behind her. She hung her purse up on the rack by the door and removed her sweater. “I’m going to get started on dinner if nobody else has any plans!” She had Robbie begrudgingly buy a chuck roast since it had been too long since Thelma enjoyed a good roast beef dinner.Russet potatoes, carrots, some asparagus, the works.Now that she was more comfortable in the kitchen—and it wasn’t like the oven had changedthatmuch—she was allowed to cook on her own. The only thing in her way had been a thorough lesson on how to use the fire extinguisher.
She entered the kitchen and grabbed an apron off the wall. While it wasn’t as nice as the one she had in the ‘50s, it was better than nothing.
She was about to open the fridge when she caught sight of two pairs of eyes staring at her from the staircase.
“Megan!” Thelma forced her heart to stop pounding by placing her hand over her chest. It didn’t work. Especially when she realized that a stranger stood with her granddaughter.
“Heeeey…” Megan came out of the shadows. Another woman followed, grinning and cheerily waving to Thelma in the kitchen. “Don’t mind us. This is my, um, girlfriend… Emma.”
The other woman waved even more vigorously. “Hi! So excited to meet you. Meg has told me so much about you.”
Megan shushed her. “What’s for dinner?”
Thelma’s judgmental eyes danced between her guilty-looking granddaughter and the young woman with long black hair and tanned skin.Is she Asian?Thelma had unfortunately learned—the hard way—that she wasn’t supposed to openly ask those kinds of questions anymore. So she kept it to herself, especially since she never intended to offend guests.
“Pot roast,” she said, holding her breath. “My, beef sure is expensive these days. No wonder your father wasn’t excited…”
“Damn, I haven’t had pot roast since Mom made it like ten years ago.”
Thelma released her held breath. “We also have the leftover apple pie for dessert. Will you be staying for dinner, Emma?”
The young woman’s smile broadened. “Can I?” When Megan lightly elbowed her, Emma continued anyway. “I mean, I guess I’ve gotta get home soon…”
“Nonsense. Unless you’re expected somewhere else, why don’t you stay for dinner? I’d love to get to know Megan’s girlfriend.” Thelma gestured to the table. “Have a seat. I can better entertain once I’ve got everything in the oven. Takes a while to cook.”
Giggling, Emma hurried to the table. Megan was slow to follow. “This is so cool, Meg,” Thelma heard her guest squeak. “It’s really like being back in the ‘50s. Look at her! Andpot roastandapple piefor dinner? Wow. Peak white people bliss.”
Thelma glanced over her shoulder. Both girls looked guiltier than should have been possible for their age.
She knows.That was all Thelma could think about as she peeled potatoes and cut carrots in half.
Dwelling on that possibility wasn’t worth the effort it took. So, Thelma concentrated on her meal, imagining her son coming home from helping to close the library and smelling the same succulent pot roast Thelma used to make when he was a kid.Surely, that will cheer him up.Robbie often acted as if he still didn’t quite believe that Thelma was actually his mother, despite the FBI’s report and a blood test certifying their relationship. (The way Megan had squealed to see the test results still rang in Thelma’s ears.)
When she had everything in the oven for the next couple of hours, she poured herself a glass of wine from Robbie’s stash and brought it over to the table—where Emma had been watching her under the guise of studying for a final.
“So, Emma…” Thelma sat with her legs off to one side, where she folded cloth napkins fresh from the dryer. “How long have you been with Megan? How did you two meet?”
Such polite conversation was exactly what Thelma would indulge in had this beenherhouse in the 1950s, and these girls were completely normal in their being together.If it were my male cousin with his new girlfriend from college, I’d ask the same questions.But Thelma also wanted to know… and she wanted to pull a little power move that said she was not shaken by this situation. If Emma knew the truth, then she knew. There was nothing Thelma could do about that.It’s between them and the FBI.
“We met in Shakespeare English our freshman year,” Megan said, looking up from her phone. “We were friends first. Then… you know, one thing leads to another…”
“Meg!”
More giggles. Thelma couldn’t hide the tiny smile that appeared to hear two young women so happy together.
“It’s all right,” Thelma said. “You’ve told her, haven’t you?” That was directed at Megan. “About me.”
