Chương 13
We did not kiss.
The absence became increasingly specific.
My parents continued sending invitations framed as obligations. I declined a Sunday brunch, a foundation dinner, and a “small family conversation” that included an attached agenda.
My father’s birthday dinner remained.
My mother called two days before.
“This cannot continue,” she said.
I was at my kitchen table repairing a loose drawer handle.
“What cannot?”
“The separation.”
“It’s been five weeks.”
“Exactly.”
“Families go longer without dinner.”
“Not ours.”
“We go years without honesty.”
She sighed. “Lois will be there.”
“Then I hope she enjoys dinner.”
“She needs closure.”
“From me?”
“She believes you set her up.”
“She knows I didn’t.”
“She believes you enjoyed the result.”
I tightened the screw too far and stripped it.
“Maybe part of me did,” I said.
My mother became quiet.
The confession surprised both of us.
“I didn’t want her unemployed,” I continued. “But when the truth came out, part of me was relieved. For once, nobody could pretend she was perfect and I was the family problem.”
“That is a terrible thing to say.”
“It’s a terrible thing to feel.”
“Then apologize.”
“For feeling it?”
“For everything.”
The drawer handle came off in my hand.
“What is everything?”
“The hired man. The public scene. The statement. Refusing to support your sister.”
“Will Lois apologize?”
“She has suffered enough.”
“That isn’t an apology.”
“Serena, your father wants one peaceful dinner.”
“Then why does it require my surrender?”
“You always use dramatic words when simple kindness would do.”
I looked at the detached handle.
“Will you ask me whether Miles is coming?”
Her pause answered.
“No,” she said eventually.
“Good.”
“So he is?”
“No.”
Another pause, shorter and colder.
“You’re no longer seeing him?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why wouldn’t he come?”
“Because I’m going alone.”
My mother released a breath.
I could hear the smile enter her voice. “That may be best.”
It hurt, though I had expected it.
She was relieved to have me alone again, provided I arrived voluntarily.
The birthday dinner took place in the private room of an Italian restaurant my father liked because the owner remembered his name.
There were only nine of us: my parents, Lois and Evan, Uncle Gary, Aunt Patricia, my father’s oldest friend and his wife, and me.
I wore flat shoes.
My mother looked behind me when I entered.
“Traffic?” she asked.
“Not bad.”
“I meant Miles.”
“I know.”
Lois sat at the far end of the table. She had cut her hair to her shoulders. Without the extensions and careful waves, she looked less polished and more like our aunt.
Evan stood to hug me. Lois did not.
My father kissed my cheek and whispered, “Thank you for coming.”
For the first half hour, everyone behaved.
We discussed Gary’s blood pressure, Patricia’s kitchen remodel, and whether the restaurant had changed olive oil suppliers. My father opened gifts. Lois gave him an engraved watch.
I gave him a first edition of a sailing book he had read as a boy.
He held it carefully.
“This is wonderful,” he said.
The pleasure in his face made me love him for several seconds without defense.
Then the main course arrived.
My mother waited until the server closed the door.
“We should talk,” she said.
Uncle Gary looked down at his plate.
My father rubbed one thumb along the edge of the book.
“Not tonight,” he said.
“It has to be tonight.”
Lois drank water.
My mother turned toward me. “Your sister has been offered a severance agreement.”
“She was fired for cause,” I said. “Why would there be severance?”
Lois looked at me sharply.
My mother’s mouth tightened. “A settlement, then.”
Evan said, “It’s an agreement not to appeal or make further public claims.”
“Evan,” Lois said.
“What? She should understand.”
I set down my fork.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“Sterling Corporation wants confidentiality,” my mother said. “Lois’s attorney believes your relationship with Mr. Sterling created undue influence.”
“Miles recused himself.”
“That is what the company says.”
“It’s what happened.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he told me.”
My mother leaned back as if I had offered evidence for her side.
“So you are still involved.”
“I’m seeing him.”
My father’s friend’s wife smiled before noticing nobody else did.
Lois stared at the table.
My mother said, “That makes the situation impossible.”
“For whom?”
“For everyone.”
“No. It makes it uncomfortable.”
“Serena,” my father warned.
I looked at him. “That word again.”
My mother’s cheeks colored. “We are asking you to pause the relationship until Lois’s matter is resolved.”
“It is resolved. She was terminated.”
“We are appealing.”
“Then appeal.”
“Miles could influence the process.”
“I don’t control Miles.”
“You have influence.”
The phrase made me feel unclean.
“You came to my job asking me to use him,” I said. “Now you invited me here to ask again.”
“We invited you because we love you.”
“And the agenda?”
My mother looked toward my father.
He did not meet my eyes.
Lois finally spoke.
“Just tell him I’m not a bad person.”
Her voice was quiet enough that everyone leaned toward her.
“I never said you were.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“You lied.”
“I know.”
“You treated him like dirt.”
“I know.”
“You humiliated me for years.”
She looked up. “You think I don’t know that?”
The room went still.
Her fingers tightened around the water glass.
“I know what I did,” she said. “I know what I sounded like. I’ve watched the video enough times.”
My mother said, “Lois, you don’t need to—”
“Stop.”
It was the first time I had heard her speak to our mother that way.
Lois looked at me.
“I wanted you to look small,” she said. “Because when you didn’t, I felt like I was disappearing.”
I did not answer.
She laughed once, bitterly. “There. Is that what you wanted?”
“No.”
“Of course not. You get to be healthy now.”
May you like
“I’m not healthy.”
“You have a billionaire taking you to gardens.”
