“They had the baby,” Sarah confirmed.
“I still can’t believe he would do that to you,” Maureen said, for the fiftieth or the hundred time. “Men reach a certain age and they lose their minds. I think he’ll be back once he realizes what a mistake he made.”
“I think I’m better off without him,” Sarah replied firmly.
“Of course. Of course you are.” Her mother was silent for a moment, watching the familiar local landmarks drift past her window: the fire station, the playground named after a dead fisherman, the primary school named after a dead politician. “All the same, though, it’s hard to be alone. Especially in your forties and fifties.”
“You didn’t date anyone after Dad died.”
“Well, no one would have wanted me at that age.”
“You were younger than me,” Sarah replied.
“Well, true.” Her mother smoothed down her skirt again. “You can’t just bring a strange man into the house when you have a daughter.”
“I’ve been out of the house for twenty years, Mom.”
“I know. I should have done something twenty years ago. But now I’m too old.”
“You could date.”
“Oh, no. Not at my age.”
“And for the record, I’m fine. I’m happy.”
“Of course you are. Of course you are.”
The worst part of her mother’s gentle prodding was that none of it was malicious; she just floated along on a stream of anxiety that circled back to where it started in an endless loop, like a slow-moving ride at the world’s most depressing amusement park.
“Would I want to see a therapist? Oh, no, not at my age,” her mother would say whenever Sarah brought up the subject of her mental health. “I don’t even know what I’d talk about.”
Sarah had given up trying to convince her mother to seek treatment for anxiety and depression; she tried to tell herself that her mother was happy being unhappy, but it never felt quite accurate.
Over the next hour, Maureen fretted about potential traffic from road construction, even though they were scheduled to get to the hotel two hours before the wedding. She fretted about whether Sarah would have time to put her dress on and do her hair before the event. She fretted about whether her nephew Paul even wanted Maureen to come to his wedding, and whether it had been too much of a bother to come get her, now that it was too latenotto come get her, and whether the money she had put in the envelope for Paul’s wedding gift was sufficient, even though it was all she could afford.
“Paul just wants to see you,” Sarah said. “He would be happy if you gave nothing.”
“Well, I wouldn’t givenothing. You can’t just givenothing.”
“You’re almost the only family Paul has left. I’m sure he’s just thrilled you’re coming.”
“Don’t you think he should talk to his mother?” she added. “I can’t believe that he stopped talking to her.”
“Aunt Delia was horrible. You know this. She was always mean to you.”
“Well, I’m sure she’s sorry if it means her son stopped talking to her. I can’t imagine never talking to your mother.”
“Please don’t bring up Delia to Paul,” Sarah pleaded. “Not today.”
“I just keep thinking about how sad Paul must be not to have his mother there. And his father passed. You lose people so unexpectedly, and then you regret not making up with them when you had the chance.”
“Just don’t bring her up today,” Sarah said again. “Some other time, maybe. But not today.”
“Oh, well, okay. I won’t say anything if you think it’s better not to.”
“I think it’s better not to.”
When they arrived at the hotel, they spotted Paul waiting outside, looking dashing in a dark suit. Paul approached their parking spot and helped her mother out of the car, a warm smile on his face.
