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Chapter Forty-two
“Can you imagine?”I groused at Harrison, pacing back and forth in front of our bed. “She actually said that she wasn’t trying to take our mother’s place! As if we were teenagers. As if we weren’t grown women, over forty, for God’s sake. As if…”
“…As if you still lived at home,” Harrison said, repeating my harangue back to me. “I know, Jodi. You’ve been saying the same thing for the past half hour. You must be exhausted. I know I am.”
“I’m just so damn mad. And Tracy…Tracy…”
“Just sat there and smiled…threw you under the bus…welcomed Elyse into the family…butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Have I left anything out?”
“She’s the one who ransacked our parents’ house, for fuck’s sake, looking for those damn rings, and then when they show up on Elyse’s fingers, does she say a goddamn thing?”
“She does not,” Harrison said.
“She says bugger-all.”
“In fairness,” he offered. “What could she say?”
“How about, ‘Gee, Dad. Maybe Jodi and I would have liked those rings. Maybe you could buy Elyse a ring of her own.’ No.She leaves it up to me to be the bad guy. So, as usual, I end up sounding like this spoiled, selfish ingrate and she ends up smelling like a rose.”
“I think you’re mixing your metaphors, sweetheart.”
“Seriously?” I ranted. “My father marries a fucking gold digger, and you’re complaining because I’m mixing my metaphors?”
“Sorry, hon,” he said. “I’m a writer, remember?”
“Well, can you kick Hemingway to the curb for a few minutes and just be my husband?”
“Sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Forget it. Can’t be done.”
“Obviously.” He patted the pillows beside him. “Look. It’s after midnight. This isn’t getting us anywhere. Can we at least try to get some sleep and I promise we’ll discuss it in the morning.”
“Sure thing,” I said, bouncing down hard on the bed before burrowing under the covers and staring up at the ceiling. I wasn’t used to Harrison being so damn supportive and it was starting to get on my nerves. “Are you sleeping?” I asked after the passage of several minutes.
“Trying to.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Maybe if you stop talking…”
“I haven’t even asked you about your evening,” I said, realizing this was true. Harrison had come home over an hour ago, and I’d been ranting and raving about my father, Elyse, and Tracy the entire time.
“That’s quite all right.”
“So, how was it?”
He laughed. “Not nearly as eventful as yours.”
“How was…whatever his name is?”
“John Geller,” Harrison said, still chuckling. “He’s fine. Has a new book coming out this spring.”
“Really? What’s it about?”
“Jodi…”
“I’m sorry. I’m just too upset to sleep.”
