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“For god's sake, Joan. It's over eighty degrees outside. Let the poor girl breathe. She looks perfectly lovely. Not everyone is a stick insect. Myself included!”
With a roll of her eyes, her mother said, “You indulge her too much, Beverly.”
Caroline took a deep, calming breath and stood up. “Thank you for the support, Nana. I appreciate your offer but I won't be needing your girdle, mother.” Without another word to either of them, she walked toward the sliding glass door. She needed a minute or she was going to lose her mind.
By the time the guests arrived, most of the earlier awkwardness disappeared. She was seated at a table between her grandmother and mother, fanning herself with one of the paper fans her mother designed as party favors. It was the hottest part of the day, and the humidity hung in the air. She tried to ignore the trickle of sweat down her back as her cousin Heather talked about school.
Caroline graduated from the same high school years before so some of the names were familiar. Mr. Marguilles, the phys ed coach, was still a pervert. The Dingmans, a husband and wife team that both taught math, still hadn't mastered the art of using a hairbrush. It was funny how some things didn't change.
At least the food was good, she acknowledged, reaching for another of the prawn finger sandwiches on the tray in the center of the table. She jumped slightly when she felt a smack on her hand. “Mother,” she exclaimed. “Did you seriously just slap my hand away from the food?”
“Someone had to,” her mother huffed in response.
“Joan!” her grandmother gasped. “You stop that!”
Irritable, Caroline said, “That was my second finger sandwich of the afternoon, for the record. Not that it matters, mother, because you're not enjoying yourself unless you're complaining about something I've done.” She shoved her chair back and dropped her napkin on the table.
Leaning over, she gave her grandmother a squeeze. “I've gotta go. I think I've been humiliated just about as much as I can handle this afternoon. I'm sorry, Nana. I'll call you tomorrow, okay,” she murmured.
“Don't blame you a bit,” her grandmother said, frowning. “I love you baby.”
“I love you too,” Caroline said, pressing a kiss to her wrinkled cheek.
“You're making a scene,” her mother harshly whispered. “This is so embarrassing!”
“Oh? Is it? I don't care. By the way, thanks for lunch,” Caroline bit out as she walked away from the table. Yeah. It was funny how some things never changed.
“You're a real bitch, Joan,” her grandmother announced bluntly.
Caroline couldn't quite contain her smirk. It didn't last long, though. The drive back to Toronto put a lot of things in perspective.
She thought a lot about those end scenes in the movies, where the heroine walks away and suddenly the building explodes behind her. Still, she keeps on walking without looking back, a satisfied smile on her face. She knows that the bad guys have been thwarted and all is right in the world.
Caroline acknowledged that this was not one of those times. Instead, she was equal parts angry at her mother and feeling guilty about leaving the party early. It was incredibly embarrassing, the way she'd just up and walked out. Tomorrow she would call and apologize to her grandmother again. Her mother, on the other hand, would not be receiving a phone call.
***
Caroline was pulling the macaroni and cheese out of the oven when she heard the knock on her apartment door. That would be Magnus. She'd planned to go over to his place after the party, but by the time she'd gotten home she was exhausted.
Even though she'd done her best to beg off tonight, Magnus had instead talked her into inviting him over. She couldn't really protest without going into the whole mortifying story. And there was no chance of that happening. He'd offered to bring her dinner, but after the miserable day she had, she welcomed the distraction of cooking a meal.
She opened the door, pasting what she hoped was a smile on her face. “Magnus, come in.”
The ready grin slipped from his face as he studied her. “What's wrong?”
Clearly the smile hadn't been as effective as she'd hoped. She waved him off and said, “Nothing. Just a long day.”
“I've seen you after a long day,” he reminded her. “That's not what this is. You can tell me to mind my own bloody business if you want but at least be honest about it.”
His patient stare broke her down. “Fine. You're right. I had a shitty day. My mother manages to make me feel like an awkward teenager even after all this fucking time. I went to that stupid party I told you about. You remember, the one that she planned for my grandmother? The second I walked in the door she started in on me by informing me that my dress made me look fat.” When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “It gets better from there. Just wait. Then, in front of my grandmother, told me that I'd never keep a man if I didn't start wearing a girdle. The final straw was when I tried to take a finger sandwich from the tray on our table and she slapped my hand away because 'someone needed to'. I'm sure she would've kept it up but I walked out.”
He stared at her incredulously for a moment, taking in her words and then he finally asked, “Did you slash her tires on the way out?”
“No. The butler was watching me,” she admitted, giving the first traces of an actual smile since Magnus walked through the door.
“There it is,” Magnus murmured, cupping the side of her face. “An actual smile. I'll take it, even if it's a slightly vindictive one.”
She leaned into him and said, “Now I just feel like crap about the whole thing. I walked out of my grandmother's birthday party. It wasn't even the stuff my mother said, so much as the fact she's been saying it my whole life. My job isn't good enough, my friends aren't good enough. She loves to remind me that I'm an overweight spinster at least two or three times per visit in some way.”
