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Kerry was steadily biting her lips and considering all the ways she’d talk about Val to Marcy later. And there would be much to say. In the living room, where Val was leading Kerry for no reason other than a show, there was a brand new fresco over the fireplace. It was a swirling mass of primary colors uniting separa
te images of Val and Jamison; she’d commissioned a painter to make it look like a professional portrait. Val had ordered it at the mall before the wedding. It looked like it.
“Mommy!” Tyrian hollered from the top of the steps, his head bobbing over a banister that was almost as big as he was.
“Hey, sugar bump!” Kerry called to her son, forgetting all about the garish painting and Val and her stomach.
Tyrian began to climb down the steps, but he didn’t have his backpack or the Braves baseball cap he’d been wearing when Kerry dropped him off that morning.
“Wait, honey, get your things,” Kerry said.
“I got ’em! I got ’em,” called a familiar voice.
Kerry and Val looked behind Tyrian at the top of the stairs and saw a face that served to unite them.
In a hot-pink silk muumuu with shiny silver jewelry and a brand-new jet-black wig was the mother-in-law.
A frown was too low of a calling to describe the look on Kerry and Val’s faces. Even a scowl was a slight. It was the countenance of hidden rage.
Tyrian was smiling.
“I don’t want to go home, Mama,” he pleaded, climbing down the steps with Mrs. Taylor holding his hand.
“But you have to. There’s camp tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to go to camp. I want to stay here with Grandma T! We were having fun. Weren’t we, Grandma T?”
“Yes, we were, sweet baby boy! Grandma always has fun with her precious grandbaby. Because he’s the most special little boy in the world.”
Tyrian beamed, standing next to his grandmother at the bottom of the steps. When she’d gotten sick at his birthday party, Tyrian had been beside himself. He didn’t understand the possibility of death, but the idea of his grandmother feeling any pain was pain enough for him.
“No camp, no allowance. No allowance, no more apps for your iPad,” Kerry listed her common sanctions.
Tyrian pouted audibly just so his grandmother could hear him and respond, which she did.
“Don’t worry, Ty-baby. If your mama won’t give you any money for apps, G-ma T will do it,” Mrs. Taylor oozed, rubbing Tyrian’s head.
Kerry took note of the clear infraction and simply added it to her list of reasons she hated this woman and was glad she no longer had to pretend she had any value to her. The woman next to her was still in that position though. And at that moment, Val didn’t know if she should continue her unspoken war with Kerry or unite with her in a stare-off against the woman who’d had her locking herself up in her bathroom each day.
“Come on, Tyrian,” Kerry said, holding her hand out for his.
The little boy trudged over to his mother, pouting the entire way.
“Poor thing,” Mrs. Taylor said, pouting too. “Makes me sad to see him sad. I don’t see why he can’t just live here with me and his daddy anyway. Wouldn’t that be nice? That way you and G-ma T can watch our General Hospital reruns together all night.”
“Yay!” Tyrian cheered.
“You watch General Hospital with him?” Val asked.
“Yes,” Mrs. Taylor confirmed. “Watched it with Jamison, too. It’s good for them. Shows the boys how to love. And Jamison loved that wedding scene—when Luke and Laura got married. That boy watched it a million times. I always imagined he’d have a huge wedding—just like the one Luke and Laura had.” She cut her eyes at Val first and Kerry second. “When he finds the right woman.”
“Well, that’s enough,” Kerry announced abruptly.
“Oh, Ty, come give your gammy kisses.” Mrs. Taylor stooped down to stall the departure.
Kerry was running out of space on the insides of her lips to bite.
And then—as Tyrian gave “Gammy” her kisses, Mrs. Taylor repeated, “Maybe you could come live with us. Stay with Gammy and Daddy.”
