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"When's your appointment?" I ask.
"Tomorrow is the first one. I'll have tests all week," she says.
"How about I invite Piper and Ethan for dinner?" I offer.
Mom nods okay. "It's strange, them not being here."
Dad nods.
They have no fucking idea what's going on in our lives.
I try to catch Mom and Dad up on Ethan and Piper's last few years, but they only half listen.
It isn't until I change the subject to work that Mom perks up.
Even in this state, her blue eyes light up and her voice jumps an octave.
Everyone in our family is this way. We're all passionate about what we do.
We all make sacrifices for it.
Am I really different than Mom? I left Piper alone half the year she was seventeen. And again the year she was eighteen. I promised her no one would ever leave her again, and I left.
I sit there, talking with Mom about work until she excuses herself for a nap.
Her apathy is palpable.
But I still want to spend time with her.
I still want my family back together for whatever time we have left.
29
Lacey
I spend all of Sunday worrying about Mal. Okay, I spend a lot of it binge-watching Futurama and texting Carrie about my mystery boy toy and how difficult he is.
And there's the gym. But my workout doesn't bring its usual satisfaction. Instead, I think of the hurt in Mal's eyes and the softness in his posture and all the ways I want to soothe him.
He arrives at exactly eleven on Monday. We make small talk about the weather, about the movies we watched, about his Mom's condition (still no word) for the drive to the first beach. He sits back as I make notes, then we have a silent drive to the second beach.
We pick up lunch silently.
We drive to the last beach silently.
It's beautiful, perfect for the shoot, but that doesn't thrill me the way it should.
Mal arranges our lunch as I scribble in my notebook. Even with the heaviness in the air, this place is paradise. Even with the waves crashing into the sand, the air feels quiet. Still. Even with wedding gear up on our left—there's a ceremony at sunset—the place feels desolate.
"It's romantic, don't you think?" I bite my lip, even as I motion to the white altar decked with big pink flowers. The chairs have turquoise bows and those same pink flowers. But Mal doesn't want to hear about weddings, not with everything changing.
His blue eyes fill with something I can't place. "It is."
I look back to my notes for some help in changing the subject. "Next weekend is our best bet. Saturday and Sunday. I think this is the beach. But we'll have limited time. There are sunset weddings on Saturday and Sunday."
His eyes stay on the altar. "It's
perfect."
