case you need us. We think you need closure, dear.”
It was the same speech they’d given her on the first day of dance class. Her therapist had suggested that enrolling her in a group activity might help with her shyness. The last thing six-year-old Annie wanted was to join something that required her to perform in front of a crowd of strangers.
Her parents lived up to their word that day. And every day after, until Annie was comfortable enough to go to dance class on her own. For three years, one parent or the other sat on the studio floor during class. They never complained or made her compete and, as it turned out, dance was the ideal outlet for Annie to express herself without the pressure of being perfect.
But going with your parents to ballet and going with them to your ex’s wedding were two wildly different things. She’d rather audition for Juilliard in a thong than sit at the table in the back of the ballroom, reserved for people whom the bride and groom are obligated to invite but hope don’t show up. On the seating chart for Annie’s wedding, it had been table nineteen.
Other people’s choices are not a reflection of me. And Annie was nobody’s table nineteen.
“I’m not going, Mom.” Be strong. “And I don’t want you or Dad to go either.”
“But I already RSVPed. For the whole family. I ordered us all the vegetarian option. The chicken is always so dry at those things.”
“Then un-RSVP.”
There was a long pause during which Maura strategized her approach. Annie didn’t need to strategize—she wasn’t going. End of story. What her mother did now was out of Annie’s hands. She’d expressed her opinion, even if it wasn’t the loudest.
Feeling a touch of indigestion coming on, Annie said, “Actually, I’ve got to get going. I need to prep OR Seven,” she lied, hating herself for using Clark’s trick. “I just called to ask if you could send me Grandma’s matzo ball soup recipe.”
“I didn’t know you liked my matzo ball soup. You always looked like you thought it was bland.”
Annie opened her mouth to say of course she liked it but paused. It was soup—what was not to like? But suddenly Annie found herself wondering about the soup her mother served every Passover. The soup her neighbors raved about, and her mother served so proudly.
“Of course it’s not bland,” she finally said. “Which is why I want to learn how to make it.”
“You know Grandma never wrote it down,” her mom said. “It’s all by feel. She showed me. I’d have to show you.”
Which meant Annie would have to go home. Not happening anytime soon. Or her mother would have to come to her. Annie thought about Emmitt and his glow-in-the-dark undies.
Never going to happen!
For a psychologist, her mother had extreme passive-aggressive tendencies. Probably why she never treated people, just studied them.
“Maybe you could guesstimate the amounts and e-mail me the recipe.” She could figure out the rest. How hard could it be? “Thanks so much—gotta go. Love you both.”
“We love you, Flapjack,” her dad said, and then disconnected, most likely so that her mother couldn’t invite herself and the Shuberts down for a fun cooking lesson at Annie’s.
Silently, she sat there a moment, recalling the events that had brought her to this point in her life: being asked to be her parents’ third wheel at her ex-fiancé’s wedding while sitting in a parking lot in Rome, Rhode Island.
How had everything gotten so out of control? And when did Annie’s opinion come to mean so little in her mother’s eyes?
A loud tap on the passenger’s-side window made her shriek and smack her head hard on the headrest. Cussing, she rubbed the smarting area and turned to see what had struck the glass. Only to find Emmitt, standing on the other side of the pane and laughing.
“Oh, come on. I give up.” She sank down into the seat and closed her eyes.
“I can still see you,” his gravelly—and extremely annoying—voice said from outside the car. “Who are you hiding from?”
Everyone, she thought. In fact, she was seriously considering moving to Siberia so she could get some privacy. Otherwise, this was how her time in Rome was going to play out. Until one of them found another place to live, they were going to be all up in each other’s space.
Annie had left her own personal hell in Connecticut and wound up living with the devil. It explained why her body tingled