Adult Assembly Required, page 24
* * *
• • •
Back in the kitchen, Asher put the coffee down in front of his mom and cleared his throat. As Maggie had known him all his life, she was familiar with his nonverbal communication: He was about to tell her something. She looked up at him and put on a pleasantly expectant expression.
“Thanks for the coffee,” she said, to get the ball rolling.
“Mom,” he said, and rubbed his nose.
Crap, it was going to be something she wouldn’t like.
“I wanted to let you know . . .” He paused.
Ah . . . not only something she wouldn’t like, something she would be mad about. She decided to cut the agony and hazard a guess.
“You spoke to Madeleine?”
Asher’s mouth dropped open. “How did you know that?”
Maggie shrugged. “Please tell me you didn’t invite her for dinner.”
Silence.
Maggie threw up her hands. “Why? You were all set to move to Japan together when she was like, basically, sorry, don’t love you, have fun in Tokyo.”
Asher sat back down in his chair. “I do remember, Mom.”
“You’d only learned Japanese in the first place because she wanted to.”
“I know, Mom.” He ran his hand through his hair, as he’d done ever since he’d been her boy, and Maggie reminded herself he wasn’t that child anymore. He was an adult, and if she pushed him away, he might choose not to come back. Like Sarah.
She sighed. “Well, it was a long time ago. People change.”
Asher looked relieved. “You’re not mad at me?”
Maggie shook her head, amazed at her self-restraint. “No, but can I ask why you called her in the first place? Or did she call you?”
Asher blushed. “I called her. I don’t know.” He did know. He’d gone upstairs the night before, after Polly had turned him down, and almost without thinking picked up his phone and texted Maddie’s old number. He’d half expected it wouldn’t work anymore, but when he’d woken up this morning, she’d sent a response. She was tickled to hear from him, she said. That was the word she’d used, as if their relationship were an adorable friendship, rather than the hideous breakup and four years of silence it actually was. They’d texted back and forth for a while, obliquely ascertaining each other’s romantic status, ferreting for signs of revivable interest. Finally he’d asked her if she wanted to come over for dinner.
“Your mother will shoot me on sight,” she’d replied, with a laughing face emoji, followed by the gun emoji.
“Nah,” he’d lied. “She’s over it.” (And she didn’t own a gun.)
Now he looked at his mother with relief. “You promise you’re going to be nice?”
Maggie levered herself up from the table and picked up her coffee. “I’ll try, but if she puts one foot wrong . . .”
“You’ll bite it off?”
Maggie grinned at her son. “And spit the toenails back in her face, machine gun–style.”
Asher laughed. “That would almost be worth seeing.”
Maggie shook her head and headed upstairs.
THIRTY-TWO
Nick showed up a little before six, bringing an excellent bottle of wine, a bouquet of flowers, and a box of mini-cupcakes from the hippest, happening-est bakery in town.
Polly was particularly charmed by the tiny cupcakes and made it clear.
“How did you even know about Cat’s Tongue?” she asked, licking her fingertips after sampling a peanut butter and honey cupcake. “They only opened last month, the buzz has barely left the neighborhood, let alone spread to the other coast.”
Nick was blasé, offering the box a second time and smiling encouragement. “The Internet, of course. When I go somewhere new, I like to do my research.” He looked reproachfully at Laura. “I was hoping to take my best girl out to dinner, I made reservations at Cream of the Crop.”
Polly literally clapped her hands together, which was unfortunate as she’d just taken a raspberry-studded cupcake. “You’re kidding!” She whirled around to Laura. “Dude, you should one hundred percent go! It’s a vegetarian paradise.”
Laura smiled politely but shook her head.
“You can take me if you like,” said Polly, wiping crumbs and frosting from her hands and shamelessly turning to Nick again. “I’m not vegetarian, but I’m prepared to make an exception.”
Nick smiled at her, letting his eyes crinkle up the perfect amount to make it personal without making it flirtatious. “Sadly, I canceled the reservation once I realized Laura wasn’t interested.”
Polly frowned at Laura. “You don’t like vegetarian food?”
Laura shook her head. “I’ve got nothing against the food.” He’s making me bitchy, she thought. She realized she didn’t like the person she became when he was around, but genuinely wasn’t sure whose fault that was.
Maggie looked over, concerned. “Nick, are you a vegetarian? I’m making steak salad.”
“No”—Nick shook his head—“that sounds delicious, I’m glad I brought red.” He helped himself to the deliciously salty, oily almonds that Polly had brought out for the table. He was starting to see why Laura liked Los Angeles. He carried on, “Laura always talked about going vegetarian but never did.” He looked at Polly. “She doesn’t like hard work, I guess.”
Laura opened her mouth to defend herself, but Polly said, “Really? That hasn’t been my experience of her at all.”
There was a knock on the door, saving Nick from having to respond to this calm but inarguable statement, and Maggie asked Laura to go get it. She was more than happy to leave the kitchen and nearly tripped over Ollie in her haste to reach the front door. He’d been lurking in the shadows, a catnip mouse nearby, fresh teeth marks dimpling its damp surface. Even cats cut loose on Saturday night.
Outside, a rather short, nondescript girl with mousy hair was standing on the doorstep. She was wearing a simple long linen dress that Laura coveted but that would have made her look like the window display at a camping warehouse.
“I’m Madeleine,” said the girl, not looking at Laura but scanning the hallway behind her. “I’m here for dinner.” She shivered, despite the warmth of the early evening. “Is Asher home?”
“Of course, come on in,” said Laura, remembering her manners and stepping back. “He’s in the kitchen, I think, with everyone else.”
The girl paused. “Is Maggie there? His mom?”
“Yes,” said Laura curiously. The girl hadn’t asked for her name, and now it felt weird to offer it.
The girl shivered again, although this time surely it was put on. “She hates me,” she whispered.
Laura frowned. “Really?” She wasn’t sure what to say to that, though what she wanted to say was Good lord, what on earth did you do? because Maggie was the friendliest person on the planet. “I’m sure she doesn’t.”
The girl looked up at her, and Laura realized her first impression had been wrong. Madeleine wasn’t nondescript at all, she was simply well camouflaged. At first glance all her colors ran together, but now that Laura was looking closely she could see Madeleine’s eyes were agate green, her skin was cream, and her hair was the color of an unskinned almond. To complete this all-natural, earth-toned palette, God had seen fit to give her dark brown freckles and eyelashes that were so thick and black she appeared to be wearing makeup, when in fact she wasn’t and probably never would. She was mousy only in the way a field mouse is mousy—delicately beautiful, finely drawn, and exquisitely trembly. She gave the impression she was easily alarmed and could possibly burst into tears if someone raised their voice. There had been a girl at Laura’s high school like this, who’d thought it funny to appear terrified by Laura’s size, all the better to highlight her tiny femininity to any boys nearby. Over the years Laura had gotten closer and closer to pushing her over with one hand and single-footedly stompling her into a nub, but had restrained herself. She was 100 percent ready to pick up where she’d left off, should this tiny creature also turn out to be a total pain in the butt.
Laura headed back to the kitchen with the mouse-girl in tow, and as she entered the room, she saw Asher’s eyes seek out Madeleine’s face immediately. Maggie wasn’t looking, but when Asher said the girl’s name, her back stiffened. She gave a very convincing impersonation of someone who hadn’t heard a word, and if she stirred the salad dressing a little more vigorously, the difference was subtle.
Asher came over, his face bright with color, and after a brief hesitation he and Madeleine hugged. He had to stoop to embrace her, and once again Laura was reminded of tiny animals in nests held together with spiderwebs. Asher pulled away and smiled. “You look wonderful, it’s so lovely to see you.” He sounded . . . relieved, somehow.
Polly looked over, and Laura caught her eye. Almost instantly Polly looked away again, feigning disinterest and fooling no one.
“You too,” said Madeleine shyly, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re home.”
Then Maggie was there, holding out her hand. “Hello, Madeleine, you’re looking very fit.” This was ludicrous, as Madeleine resembled a consumptive on her last legs, but judging by the undertone, this was an old dig.
They shook hands, then Madeleine peeped at Maggie from under her lashes and said, “It’s nice to see you. It’s funny, you’ve gotten older but everything else looks exactly the same. Same furniture, same pictures, same spoons on the wall.” She looked around and said softly, “Probably the same dust, but still . . .”
Maggie looked around and went a little red. “Yeah, maybe it’s time for an update, but you know I’ve always enjoyed commitment.”
“I remember you always said so,” said Madeleine, raising her eyebrows at Asher, who was also a little pink. Maggie closed her eyes briefly and returned to her cooking, keeping her thoughts to herself.
“Laura!” It was Nick. “You’re drifting away.” He turned to the others. “She’s an adorable girl, but a space cadet, am I right?”
“Sorry.” Laura came back to the table and tried to gather what she’d missed. Unsurprisingly, Nick was leaning back in his chair, as congruous as a lizard on a hot wall. It wasn’t the situation, it was simply him. He was born comfortable, and Laura had found it enormously attractive at first. They’d been kids together, but as they both crested the hill of puberty, he’d taken off in fine style and she was grateful to be dragged along. Everyone stared at him and saw her out of the corner of their eye, which was about all the attention she’d been ready for.
Polly brought her up to speed, pointedly ignoring the soft exchange of news happening between Asher and Madeleine on the other side of the kitchen. She raised her voice slightly. “We covered a lot of ground while you were playing doorman.”
“Oh yeah?” said Laura, looking suspiciously at Nick.
Polly was clearly very amused. “Nick showed us photos of you guys at prom, and at high school graduation, and a very memorable shot of you dressed as a pirate.”
Laura narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “You had all of those on your phone?”
Nick nodded. “I came prepared.”
“Prepared to embarrass me?”
Polly interrupted. “They weren’t embarrassing, they were hilarious. We’re not laughing at you, we’re laughing with you.”
“I was laughing at you,” said Nick, “but that’s fair, because I was in all the pictures, too, and was therefore laughing at myself.”
“You weren’t in the pirate picture,” Polly pointed out.
“He didn’t even take that one,” said Laura, and Polly was surprised to hear an accusatory tone. “He wasn’t there.” She paused. “Did my mom give it to you?”
Nick held up his hands in mock defeat. “Guilty as charged, madam. It’s one of my favorites and she was nice enough to send it to me.” He grinned at Laura. “Don’t get mad, sweet cheeks, you look amazing in it.” He held up his glass for a refill.
“You’re a very tall pirate,” said Polly, nodding. “It’s pretty impressive.”
“She was the tallest girl in school,” said Nick, “from seventh grade onward.”
“Can we change the subject?” said Laura, mortified. She could feel a painful tightness in her chest she thought she’d left behind in New York, but here it was, making its Los Angeles debut. Step right up, folks, and see the giant embarrassed lady.
The front door opened and closed, and Libby and Anna walked in.
“Ooh,” said Anna, seeing the small crowd. “A party! How exciting. What are we celebrating?”
“Me,” said Nick shamelessly. He stood up and extended his hand, applying his one-hundred-watt smile. “We didn’t get properly introduced last night. I’m Nick, I’m Laura’s fiancé, newly arrived in the beautiful City of Angels.” He smiled at Anna, who dimpled. “I see the tourism board wasn’t kidding.”
Libby frowned and looked at Anna, who wasn’t looking at him at all.
“Hi,” she said, blushing slightly at the compliment. Inwardly, Laura rolled her eyes. Yes, Nick was tall and handsome and charming and smart and funny, but he was also a massive pain in the ass, and it drove her up the wall that everybody fell for his bullshit and encouraged her to put up with it, too.
“Ex-fiancé,” she said loudly, aware she sounded petty, but it wasn’t a minor distinction. Being engaged was binary; you were or you weren’t. Furthermore, Nick wasn’t a vague person, he was a scientist: He was using the power of presumption to influence her behavior, and it wasn’t going to work and was seriously pissing her off.
“Laura,” said Maggie, “can you come and give me a hand?”
“Gladly,” said Laura.
“I’m actually fine,” said Maggie, lowering her voice as Laura approached. “Is Asher still talking to Madeleine?” She handed Laura a tomato and a paring knife, as cover.
Laura waited a second, then risked a glance. Asher and Madeleine were standing against a run of low cupboards, close to each other, their voices quiet.
“Yes,” she said.
Maggie sliced the steak against the grain, with firm, even strokes. “And does he look like a sick calf?”
Laura frowned. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what that looks like.”
Maggie made an impatient noise. “Does he look like he normally does? Alert? Amused? Intelligent?”
Laura looked and was surprised. “No, actually. That’s weird. He looks . . . mildly unwell.”
“Pink cheeked?”
Laura nodded.
Maggie made a clucking noise. “Eyebrows slightly drawn? Mouth open wide enough to insert a slice of toast?”
Laura looked at Maggie and raised her own eyebrows. “That’s strangely specific, but yes, as it happens. Not a big slice.”
“A regular slice.”
Laura looked again. “Sure.”
“What’s he doing with his hands?”
Laura smothered a giggle. “They’re clasped in front of him, it’s actually very cute.”
Maggie put down the knife and held her hands in front of her chest, as if she were a six-year-old flower girl unsteadily proceeding down the aisle. “Like that?”
Laura nodded.
“Fuck,” said Maggie, picking up her knife and finishing the rest of the steak. “If I kill her accidentally, will you help me dispose of the body?”
The front door opened again and Bob walked in. He immediately looked for Laura and smiled hopefully. She hesitated, but smiled back, trying to push through her embarrassment. She turned back to Maggie. “Yes, of course. And Bob’s here, he probably has a shovel.”
“Excellent,” said Maggie, sliding the pile of steak onto a platter. “We can hide her in his water feature.”
She turned to the room. “OK, people, time to eat.”
THIRTY-THREE
As Laura had anticipated, Nick dominated the conversation. A portion of the audience was engrossed, and the rest were using his monopoly as cover for social intrigue and sexual tension. Madeleine had turned out to be one of those women who get better looking the more you look at them, which is powerful magic in the wrong hands, especially when combined with the kind of reticence often mistaken for depth. As time passed, the men in the room started orienting toward her like iron filings in a physics class on polarity, with about as much control. Polly was studiously ignoring Asher, because having turned him down, she didn’t think it was reasonable to feel as jealous as she did, but every so often, Laura would catch her looking at him or glaring at Madeleine. Anna was increasingly cross with Libby, whose attention was drifting, and he was vexed with her for giggling at everything Nick said. Madeleine didn’t have everyone’s full attention, though, and it was making her increasingly cranky.
It turned out Asher and Nick both enjoyed the physics of musical instruments and had connected over a shared love of wave formation (sound, not salt water). Maggie shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. Asher had been a gifted musician as a child, but when he’d left it behind after college, she thought he’d completely dropped it. But as he and Nick discussed the principles of harmonics and resonance, talking over each other with enthusiasm, she found herself relieved. He was a grown man, but the child he’d been was still in there. She was also pleased to see he was looking slightly less whacked around the head with a fish. His color was back to normal, and he was using his hands to wield a knife and fork, packing away his dinner like he hadn’t eaten in a month. Maggie wondered if he’d been too nervous about seeing Madeleine to eat. She chided herself for failing Parenting 101: Blood Sugar, Enemy and Friend, and then remembered it wasn’t her job any longer. All this knowledge she’d amassed over the two decades of child-rearing, all useless now. Like throwing out high school textbooks after graduation—won’t need these anymore.
