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“Oh, I just grabbed the first thing in the drawer. I, um, went out for a little while, and when I came in, he was fussing, had messed himself something fierce, so I changed him real quick. Adam ended up in pink. It’s not the first time. Probably won’t be the last.” She took a long swallow from her drink. “You know, honey, you’re one of the few people who can tell the twins apart.”
“They’re not identical, obviously,” Remmi pointed out.
“I know, I know. Well, we all know, but . . . they resemble each other and . . . and . . . ,” her voice squeaked. Quickly, she knocked back the remainder of her drink, then found her clutch and cigarette case, only to find the glittery case devoid of Virginia Slims. She stared at the empty pack, then crushed it in her fingers.
“Mom?” Remmi asked, concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. No . . . of course.” Didi walked to the kitchen, tossed the crumpled pack into the trash can under the sink, then opened the cupboard over the refrigerator and, standing on her tiptoes, fished out a carton of Virginia Slims and found a new, unopened pack.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Want me to put Adam back to bed?”
“No!” Letting out a long breath of air, Didi shook her head. “Leave him be. He . . . he can sleep in his carrier. He likes it.” When she found her daughter staring at her, she said, “What?” then, after tapping the pack of cigarettes on the counter and removing the cellophane wrapper, returned to the living room. “He’s fine, really. You know what they say, ‘Let sleeping babies lie.’”
“I think that’s dogs, Mom. ‘Let sleeping dogs lie.’”
“Is it?” She located her lighter and, after cracking a window near the front door, shook out a cigarette and fired it up.
Heart thudding, Remmi decided to push it, force her mother to confess. “I walked by the twins’ room.”
“So?”
“Both the cribs are empty.”
Didi just stared at her. Took another drag.
“Mom, where’s Ariel?”
“Oh, Lordy,” she whispered on a cloud of smoke. “Look, she’s . . . she’s with a friend of mine. You remember Trudie?” She managed a thin smile. “Well, okay—the deal is that sometimes I just need a break, you know, from all this—” She motioned to the room in general. Around the perimeter, tucked between the chairs and tables, were bins of folded clothes and diapers and toys.
“You have me. And Seneca.”
“I know, I know,” Didi said, suddenly squashing out her cigarette with vehemence in the ashtray on a side table. She covered her face with her hands, her polished nails glinting under the lights, and Remmi took note that the one she always colored differently was black tonight. Perfect.
Didi let out a sigh and dropped her hands. “Sometimes, what with my job and all and, you know, no husband or boyfriend, it’s all a bit, no, make that a lot, it’s a lot much for one woman.” She carried the ashtray to the kitchen, dumped it, and wiped it with a paper towel. “I’m not getting any younger, Remmi, and to be the single mother of a teenager and twins. God, I’m not even thirty-five, and I feel ancient. Ancient. I should be out, having fun, kicking up my heels and . . . and . . .” Her voice fell away, and she dropped down into a chair near the table, where the briefcase, still unopened, lay flat. She glanced at the leather case and swallowed hard, blinking as if she were fighting tears.
“Mom?” Remmi whispered, and her mother waved a frantic hand to stop the reproach.
“Just go back to bed. Don’t worry about the twins, okay? They’re my responsibility. I’ll–I’ll take care of them. I’ll take care of everything.” Her smile, faded without the lipstick, faltered a bit. “Don’t I always, honey?”
“Sure, Mom.” Remmi felt like a heel.
“That’s right.” Didi glanced at the wall phone hanging over the kitchen counter.
“You can tell me, you know.”
“Tell you what?”
Remmi shrugged. “Anything, Mom. You know that.”
For a second, Didi appeared to consider the offer, seemed about to divulge the truth, then her gaze shifted to the wall phone again, and she shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing to tell, now, is there?” She pinned a bright smile on her face and faced her daughter again. She winked. “Go on, now, honey. You worry too much, you know? Everything’s fine. Just fine.” Another glance at the phone. “And don’t you bother Seneca, okay? She has to get up with the twins . . .” Again, Didi’s voice faded out before she cleared her throat and added a little hoarsely, “She has to get up early.”
She made little shooing motions with her fingers, and Remmi realized Didi wasn’t about to admit to the exchange that had occurred in the desert.
She should call her out, Remmi thought, demand straight answers from her mother, admit that she knew what had gone down tonight, but she didn’t, and as she slipped between the cool sheets on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, she thought of Noah and her missed opportunity.
