“And how does that make you feel?”
“Like an emotional football,” Lilliam says.
We all stare at her, impressed with her self-diagnosis.
“Very good. Thank you, Lilliam,” says Ms. Waters before turning to Joey. “Your turn,” she says.
He picks up his marshmallow people stools and dives right into it. “Jo-eeeey, tell your mother to stop micromanaging me. You sure, Dad? Jo-eeey, tell your father he needs to man up and grow a pair. Mom, I can’t tell him that! Joey, just say the wordsplease take on a more active role, okay? Okay, Mom.”
His reenactment is not actually about the moment he learned about the divorce, but Ms. Waters lets it slide. “Do they often make you play messenger?” she asks.
“All the time.”
“That’s messed up,” Preethi says gently.
“Thanks,” says Joey. “I mean, not thanks, but yeah, it is.”
“How does that make you feel, Joey?” Ms. Waters asks.
“It sucks, big-time,” Joey says. “It makes me not want to talk to either of them.”
“Thank you, Joey.”
Ms. Waters shifts her attention to Gray. “Your turn.”
I peer at him, curious to see how he responds. A little anxious, too. I want to tell him this is probably the only safe place on Earth to reenact your parents’ breakup, but that might sound patronizing. I know this becauseIwould find that patronizing. After all, reenacting divorce with marshmallows is absurd to begin with.
Gray says nothing. He only beseeches the heavens, just like he did earlier this morning. Again, I feel his pain. But at the same time, I want to hear his backstory. I want to figure him out.
Ms. Waters considers him for a long moment. “I’ll come back to you,” she says. “Isabel, you’re next.”
I try not to squirm in my chair but squirm anyway. I pointlessly nudge my marsh-people around. Every time I think about the moment they told me, I feel as if I’ve woken up in a parallel universe where the people I think are my parents are actually strangers.
I hold up my mom-mallow. “Darling, we have something to tell you. Me: You’re not getting divorced, are you? Dad: Actually, sweetheart, that’s what we want to discuss. Mom: Sometimes after a long marriage, the people in it find that they don’t have much in common anymore. Dad: And that they’ve essentially turned into roommates. Mom: We still love each other. Dad: But not in the way that we should. We grew apart and fell out of love. Me: But why? Mom: There is no why. Just like no one knows why people fallinlove. Me: Aaaah!”
I carefully take the me-mallow apart and set its separate pieces down.
“Their breakup made me feel ...disoriented,” I say, before Ms. Waters can ask. “That probably sounds clichéd.”
“Not at all,” says Ms. Waters. She examines my face. “Did it feel good to say all of that all at once?”
“Kinda,” I admit.
She turns once again to Gray. We all do. He just sits there, staring down at his boot.
I don’t know what comes over me, but suddenly I’m urging him to participate. “Come on, Gray,” I say. “You can do this.”
Ms. Waters shakes her head, wanting me to stop, but I ignore her. “We all did it.”
“Isabel,” Ms. Waters says, voice firm. “It’s up to Gray.”
“He’ll never feel better if he doesn’t at least try,” I say.
Ms. Waters raises her voice. “Let’s move on.”
“No,” Gray says, finally looking up. He locks his eyes on mine. “You want to know so badly? Here you go.” He picks up the smallest marshmallow molecule, wiggles it, and then begins talking like he’s leading story time for a bunch of kids. “Once upon a time, little Gray came home to find his mother and father fighting.” He picks up the mother marshmallow. “It turns out Gray’s mother had been having an affair with a man who was kinder, better looking, and richer than his father. Oooh, bad mother. But it’s not so simple. You can’t really blame Mother for her actions because the father has many, many faults of his own, including his own infidelity and being a nasty drunk and an all-around terrible father.” He sets down the mother marshmallow and picks up the father one. “Despite his many, many faults, Father did not think he was to blame. He yelled. He punched things. He threw all of Mother’s stuff out onto the lawn and then kicked her out. When little Gray asked his mother if he could come live with her, she told him she needed space to get her mind right and to give her new relationship room to breathe.”
He sets his marshmallows down and then gently smashes them all with his fist. “Wanna know how this made me feel?” he asks, still looking directly at me.
