The Chicken Sisters - K.J. Dell'Antonia Page 0,106

good plans. Jay would want this; he really would. If he would just hear her out. If they could just get that far.

Madison and Ryder shared none of these conflicting feelings. They were delighted to have both Mommy and Daddy again. Ryder, who was on Jay’s hip, reached for Mae with his arms while sticking tight to Jay with his legs. Madison, apparently feeling low on the totem pole, stood on Mae’s foot to reach up to them both.

Mae took Jay’s hand, and Madison’s, and started to walk, and to her relief, he accepted her unspoken invitation, although he didn’t return the pressure of her fingers. Pretend you expected him, pretend this is all going perfectly and maybe it somehow will. “Let me show you what’s going on,” she said. “First, you remember my aunt Aida.” Aunt Aida, who knew better than anyone the facade Mae had created for her life in New York, who had gracefully maneuvered Barbara around Mae and Jay’s wedding. “Aida deserves even more Hollywood greatness,” Mae explained, “but in light of the studio’s preference for casting women forty years younger than the roles they’re playing, she’s decided to come home and boss us all around.” Aida put one hand up to each of Jay’s cheeks and kissed him firmly, and Mae knew she saw him smile as he let go of Mae’s hand to give Aida a one-armed hug. No one could resist Aida.

She took his hand again, and this time, she felt him holding hers. A tiny bit of her tension slipped away, but as they moved up to the porch and through the front door. Mae saw her mother’s house through Jay’s eyes. Things she’d accepted since she was a kid became painfully obvious—the tottering stacks of old newspapers and bags and boxes of dollar-store crap that were still everywhere even with the helpers carting box after box away, yes, but also the faded and peeling wallpaper, the water stains where the porch and house rooflines met, the outright dirt and grime on floors and stairs that hadn’t been cleaned during her lifetime. Beyond that was the smell—the combined odors of decaying food, dog shit, unwashed laundry and humans, and, the grown-up Mae now knew, an unpumped septic system. She saw Jay’s face as he took it in and felt in him that physical lurch she had seen in everyone who had come in for the first time that day. Madison and Ryder seemed oblivious to it, their focus on something else entirely. “You have to come see the puppies,” Madison squealed, running ahead, and Ryder squirmed down from his father’s arms.

“Hang on,” Jay said, and something in his voice stopped both children, who looked at him uncertainly. “I’m talking to Mommy now,” he said, and Mae could hear him lightening his tone at their reaction. He smiled at Madison and leaned down to scoop Ryder back into his arms, and as he did, his eyes met Mae’s, unreadable. He might have reassured Madison and Ryder, who came back and leaned against his legs, but Mae had never felt more vulnerable.

She met his eyes. “This is my mother’s house,” she said clearly. “This is where I grew up.” She wouldn’t explain why that needed to be said to her husband of seven years. Let Food Wars deal with it. She turned, heading through the passage, knowing that with the cameras trailing them both, he would have to follow her into the kitchen and the back room, the main room. Was the disgust she thought she saw in his eyes for the house, or for her? “And if you saw the puppies on Facebook, this is where they were born, but they’re outside now while we clean it up.”

She thought Jay might be trying not to breathe through his nose, so she took pity on him and led him out the back door, not rushing, making sure he had time to see the kitchen, still overflowing with dishes and bags and debris, before emerging onto the porch, which once would have been a refuge from the mess but was now filled with things from the cleanup.

She wanted to look at him, but she couldn’t. Instead, she pressed her lips together, taking quick breaths. She would not cry. “We’re taking everything out of the house, so it’s going to take a while,” she said. “Mom hasn’t been able to throw anything away. Ever. She’s always been like this. The house has always been like this.