Page 91 of Life, Love, and Other Messes

“Who the heck wanted pineapple? It’s just wrong.”

“Maybe I did,” I said. “Pepperoni for you, no pineapple?”

Missy was leaning on the doorframe. I wondered how long she’d been there, but I assumed she wasn’t the type who would eavesdrop on a private conversation. “You’re so good with them,” she said. “Don’t you want any?”

“Of yours?”

She laughed. “Yeah, maybe. Seriously, don’t you?”

I shook my head. “I’m not fond of kids, but yours are okay.”

“Does Lisa want kids?”

Damn, now that Mom was gone, we were all free to make assumptions about my relationship. “She teaches preschool.”

“Got it. Kevin says she’s coming later this week.”

I nodded and took a slice of the offensive pineapple pizza. “Be nice. Dad was on the phone with her for like ten minutes yesterday.”

“I’m glad you’ve found somebody wonderful.”

I was, too.

We spent Monday morning at the funeral home. I hadn’t realized that we’d need to do that since the funeral was going to be at First Pres, but there was much to sort out. Paperwork. So much paperwork. Mom had wanted to be cremated, but she also wanted a traditional funeral so we needed to rent a casket. That was one of the most grotesque things I’d ever thought about, but I kept from exchanging a look with Kevin. We picked out the casket, and then an urn. Dad asked me to write the obituary, and I did it on the fly, using things I’d said at their anniversary party. We set the funeral for Friday morning the twenty-seventh, when all of Mom’s sisters could be there. Lisa was to drive up the day before after boarding Ollie. I wished she could just bring Ollie up, but it seemed like too much to bring a dog into someone else’s house. Well, other than Lisa’s.

Christmas came next. Dad and I had a talk the afternoon before Christmas Eve, admitting that neither of us had gotten gifts for the other and we didn’t exactly feel like shopping. Mom had already wrapped gifts for the kids and had them stashed under the tree, though, so we were committed to celebrating. Instead of having everyone gather at the house, we brought everything to Kevin’s, and I helped Missy cook.

Either it hadn’t really hit me until then or it just felt wrong to celebrate anything. I read to the younger kids, I fed the baby, I played a board game with Seth and Asher, but I couldn’t make it feel like Christmas either. Asher told me that Missy let him eat up the cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer that year, and had him go out and make hoofprints on the driveway so the younger kids saw they’d been visited. On Christmas day, we gave up, and Kevin and I took the boys and Mary Margaret to a movie while the others napped. We were done celebrating, Dad wanted some time alone, and I was exhausted. I fell asleep at eight thirty. Dad was already in bed.

I was still a bit out of sorts Thursday morning, but the promise of seeing Lisa gave me the energy to get up and make cinnamon rolls for Dad. He sat at the table with me staring out the window at a pair of cardinals on the feeder and asked me how I knew how to cook so well because Mom’s food was for shit. I told him sometimes we learn what not to do, and he laughed for the first time in what felt like a long time.

I texted Lisa my parents’ address and she gave me an ETA after dropping off Ollie with little individual baggies of his kibble for several days and his favorite toy. As much as I loved them, I had frankly had enough of my nieces and nephews so I huddled in my room most of the day correcting the handful of tests Vera had scanned and emailed to me. I didn’t even know how I could repay her.

Lisa arrived at two thirty. I had been hesitant about her coming and meeting my family, but once I saw her car pull up behind mine on the street, I realized that I’d never been so happy to see someone in my life. I went down the walk to meet her without thinking about shoes. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She gave me a big hug. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Thank you. Can I grab something?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really know what to bring so—”

“So you brought everything,” I teased her. She had a big suitcase and a backpack larger than mine.

“Well. Where the fuck are your shoes?”

I gave her a shamefaced look. She’d grown up in Alabama. “It was a bad idea.”

“Well, come on.” She nudged me ahead and I led her along the walk to the house. The Christmas tree was screamingly visible in the front window, but we hadn’t turned on the lights at all that week. I eyed her, but there was no noticeable response.

Dad emerged from his nap in the recliner to meet us at the door. “Lisa. Good to meet you. I’m John.”

“Good to meet you, too.” She shook his hand, then hoisted her suitcase up the last step. “I brought you some sea salt caramel corn.”

Dad’s eyes lit up. There wasn’t anything good in the area so it was usually something I picked up for him. “You don’t say. I like her,” he said to me.

“Sucking up,” I whispered as we went down the hall.

“Would you want it any other way?”