her sisters would never falter, but look at them now.
A car door slammed, and then Caroline heard the unmistakable sound of Noni tipping a cabbie: “Thank you so much. Good luck with your surgery, Oscar. You take care, now.”
Caroline removed her hand from Lily’s face. Both girls had closed their eyes, and her mind shifted from this obligation—tending to the girls, bringing them water, loving them—to the next: our mother.
Caroline headed downstairs. Already they were standing on the porch, waving at her from behind the screen door: Noni and her friend Danette, a woman Noni met the previous year at the grief support group. Danette had lost her only child, a teenage daughter, seven years earlier. Car accident. Somehow the girl had ended up in a lake, the car submerged for three months and four days before the police found her. “Can you imagine?” Noni had asked Caroline over the phone last night. “Not knowing all that time?” “No,” Caroline had answered. “I cannot imagine.”
Danette’s husband was an airline pilot, and consequently Danette traveled free of charge to any destination. “What adventure!” Noni had said. “What freedom!” Last month Danette had invited Noni to join her on a tour of Europe’s great cities: London, Paris, Rome, Vienna, Madrid.
“I’ve never even been to Europe,” Noni told Caroline in the hushed tone of a confession, although Caroline knew as much; Caroline had never been there either.
“Noni, you should go,” she said, feeling a tremor of envy. “You can’t not go. It’s Europe.”
And so Noni had said yes.
“Hello, Caroline!” Noni called, and hugged her on the doorstep. Caroline felt her breath leave her body and wondered when her mother had become a hugger.
“Caroline, it is so wonderful to finally meet you,” Danette said, and then she, too, leaned in and hugged Caroline fiercely, pinning her arms to her sides so that Caroline could return only an approximation of a hug, more a light slapping of Danette’s torso with her hands. Danette stepped back, gripping Caroline’s shoulders. “You are the image of your mother,” she said, looking from Noni to Caroline. “The very picture. Thank you so much for inviting me to your lovely home.”
The force of Danette momentarily paralyzed Caroline. She’d been expecting someone sadder, older, more beaten down. Noni and her new friend were joined by grief, members of the worst possible club. But Danette looked easily ten years younger than Noni. She was African-American, her hair sprung up in a high Afro, pinned away from her face with a multicolored band. Everything about her was a study in contrast: dark skin, white teeth, long skirt, sleeveless tank, a battered pink suitcase resting beside an expensive-looking black leather handbag. And Noni, rather than fading away in comparison to Danette, seemed herself more vibrant, the lucky recipient of Danette’s reflected glow. Noni wore traveling clothes in earthy colors and wick-away fabrics, but her hair was longer and her face made up, a tint of lipstick that looked good.
“Hi, Noni,” Caroline said. “You look great.” Noni smiled but said nothing in return; she stepped past Caroline and into the house.
“Sorry it’s a little chaotic in here,” Caroline said. “We’re getting ready for Nathan’s party tomorrow.” Stacked lawn chairs crowded the entryway and living room; they’d been delivered that morning, but Caroline hadn’t been ready for them out back.
When Noni gave her a puzzled look, Caroline added, “His promotion? I told you about it last week. We’re having a party to celebrate.”
“Congratulations!” Noni said. “I’m so pleased for Nathan. How nice of him to host his own party.”
Caroline felt her pulse elevate. “We’ve both been working very hard for this,” she said, and then she excused herself from the room.
The kitchen was full of the insistent smell of a cooked quiche. Caroline pulled it from the oven, and her index finger slid past the pot holder and touched the hot metal of the pan. She yelped in shock, dropped the pan onto the stove top with a clatter.
“Are you okay?” her mother called from the dining room. Caroline heard a murmured comment from Danette. “Can we help?” Noni added.
“I’m fine!” Caroline called back. She sucked on her finger, the burned spot raw and tender in her mouth, and she began to cry in a hot, childish way. Why had she let her mother come here today? She should have told her to eat lunch at the airport. She should have ordered food from Pepe’s.
Danette appeared in the doorway. “Caroline, what happened?”
“I’m fine,” Caroline said. “Just