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I went into the kitchen and said, “Jess was just here,” as I stuck my phone on top of the fridge, out of nephew range.
“I know,” said Maureen. “She just texted me.”
“Not to sound ungrateful for your visit or anything, but what are you doing here?” I asked. Erin was pulling a couple mugs from the cupboard and pouring herself and Maureen coffee, right at home in my kitchen.
“We’re here to see how you’re doing after Dad tore you a new one yesterday,” Maureen said, tossing her long, strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and settling on a barstool.
“You could have just called. But since you’re here, have a donut. Jess brought a dozen and then didn’t eat any.” I pushed the pink box toward them.
Erin dove in and Maureen hesitated, saying, “I won’t be able to zip my wedding dress if I eat that.” She eyed the box for a long moment, then said, “So I’ll do an extra Zumba class tomorrow,” and grabbed herself a chocolate cream-filled.
“We’re also here,” Erin said, “because no one could get a word in edgewise yesterday around Dad’s yelling, and we want to hear about this guy you’re seeing. Is he really a gangster?”
“Yup.” I sighed and poured myself a new mug of coffee, wondering where my original cup had gone.
Just then both my nephews raced into the kitchen. As soon as Brennan assessed the situation, he started screaming, “Donuts! We want donuts!”
And Brody echoed, “Nuts! Nuts!”
I laughed at that as Erin dug around in one of her bags. “Here, I brought you squeezie yogurt,” she told them, holding out a couple tubes.
“Nooooo! We want donuts!” Brennan screamed.
Brody was still chanting, “Nuts, nuts, nuts!”
Erin sighed in exasperation and handed both boys a donut, and they ran from the kitchen with delighted shrieks. I shot her a look, and she said, “Oh, don’t judge me. It quieted them down, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but we’d better talk fast, before the sugar hits their systems and they detonate like tiny atom bombs,” I said.
Erin rolled her eyes, but Maureen, who knew I wasn’t kidding, asked quickly. “So, this guy. Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
Both women beamed at me, and I felt myself blushing.
But then Erin remembered a key detail and asked, “Even though he’s a criminal?”
“Even though he’s a criminal,” I sighed.
“Well, crap,” Erin said, tucking her short light brown hair behind her ear. “This is even more messed up than your thing with Charlie.”
My eyes went wide. “My what?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Maureen exclaimed.
“Mo! Language!” Erin interrupted, tilting her head toward the living room where her kids were completely ignoring us.
“Oh, they can’t hear me!” Maureen exclaimed, and the sisters bickered for a while as I sighed and ate another donut.
Finally they remembered I was in the room, and when they turned their attention back to me I asked innocently, “What do you mean, my thing with Charlie?”
This earned me twin eye rolls from both sisters. “Oh come on Jamie, don’t play dumb,” Erin said. “We know you and Charlie were a couple. And it’s sweet that you’re still trying to keep it quiet for his sake.”
“Did Mom and Dad know?” I asked, genuinely shocked.
“I doubt it,” Erin said. “They live pretty heavily in denial. Even when you came out a few months ago, I think they tried to pretend they misunderstood you.”
“So how did you know?”
“Well, let’s see: the way you looked at each other, the way you’d touch him when you thought no one was watching,” Maureen began.
And Erin finished for her, “The way the two of you would leap apart when you were sitting on the couch watching football and one of us came into the room. It was totally subtle,” she said sarcastically.
I hadn’t thought about Charlie much since meeting Dmitri. But now, remembering all of this, sadness crashed into me like it had been poised right on the edge of my consciousness, waiting for an opening. “I’m sure you heard he got engaged,” I said.
“Yeah, we heard. Oh Jamie, you’re still torn up over him, aren’t you?” Erin asked.
“I mean, it still hurts, but not like it used to. Actually, since I met Dmitri, Charlie hasn’t really been on my mind much.”
“Sorry we reminded you, Jamie,” Maureen said, reaching out and squeezing my arm.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “Really. I’m putting Charlie behind me.”
“So this thing with the gangster, is it a rebound thing?” Erin asked.
“No, it’s really not,” I said. “It’s far more than that.”
Just then a blood-curdling shriek came from the living room. Brennan raced into the kitchen, crying and covered in powdered sugar. “Tippy ate my donut!” he wailed, pointing accusingly at Maureen’s silky terrier, who’d followed him into the kitchen and stood there innocently, wagging his tail, his muzzle white with sugar. Erin sighed and handed over a jelly donut, and Brennan shot out of the room again, yelling, “No, Tippy!” as the small dog bounded after him.
