Right there, stretched out on the floor, looking at the popcorn ceiling Evvie had always meant to replace, Monica updated Evvie on Rose’s upcoming dance recital, Lilly’s current obsession with collectible toys called Monsteroos (“like Beanie Babies if Tim Burton made them”), and everything she was trying to get done now that school had started. “How are things with you?” Monica finally asked.
“Okay. About to be busy. I’m going to sell the house, I think. It’s too big for me. And I’m trying to get back to work. And right now, I’m putting off calling my mother.”
Monica laughed. “Oof.”
She hadn’t planned to, but Evvie told Monica about Eileen: how she left when Evvie was little, how her visits and calls diminished gradually, how she would pop in at inconvenient times of her own choosing but miss all the weddings and the funerals. “But,” Evvie said, “she’s my mother. I don’t want to have regrets. I know I have to see her and suck it up, but it always stresses me out.”
“Well, you don’t have to.”
“No, I know. But I’m trying to…I don’t know. I can’t cut her off, so I might as well have peace with her.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“Well,” Monica said, “I don’t know why you’re the only one who has to show up every time. If she can wait when she’s deciding to wait, why can’t she wait when you decide to wait? It doesn’t have to be forever.”
It was quiet, except for the jangle of Monica’s bracelets as she shifted on the floor. “What’s your mom like?” Evvie asked.
“Overprotective. Fun. Smart. She works for a law firm. Big Cuban family, a bunch of brothers and sisters, just like I have.”
“Your mom’s Cuban?”
“Yep. If you’re thinking you wouldn’t know it from looking at me, you’re thinking the same thing a guy said to me when I was applying for a summer fellowship once. Right before he asked me if I’d ever seen the TV show Jane the Virgin.”
Evvie turned her head. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“But they’re not Cuban.”
“No, they’re not.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. But my brother called the guy two days later. He claimed to be from the law firm of Rodriguez, Rodriguez & Rodriguez, and he told the guy if he ever asked another question like that, he’d be sued for a million dollars.”
“Is your brother a lawyer?”
“Not only is he not a lawyer, but he’s my littlest brother. He was fifteen.” Monica shrugged. “He has a low voice.”
Evvie laughed.
“I want you to know I never spilled the beans about the lingerie thing, by the way. Andy came right out and asked me whether I thought you were sleeping with Dean.”
Evvie turned to her. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘I hope so. I would be.’ ”
Laughing made Evvie’s shoulders shake on the carpet. “Bet he loved that.”
“I mean, it’s the truth. I told him, the closest I ever came to sleeping with a professional athlete was the guy who wore the mascot costume at my college.”
“You slept with the mascot?”
“Swear to God.”
“And how was that?”
Monica hesitated, and then she turned to Evvie. “One time he told me he wanted to wear the tiger head to bed. He expected me to think it was, like, a very exciting idea.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘As far as my own experience, I’d rather you wore the body.’ ”
They cackled, and it echoed in the empty apartment. Monica shifted her position on the floor. “Hey, is it okay if I call you up sometime and we can see a movie or something? I meet a lot of guys around here, and I need women friends or I lose my bearings.”
“That would be fun. I used to have women friends,” Evvie said. “I’m not sure what happened. When I was married, Tim wanted us to only have, you know, couple friends. He thought I’d complain about him to people. Eventually, it was easier not to start anything, and I stopped going out very much.”
“Wait…what?”
“Yeah, I know. He was weird.”
“That’s not weird, Evvie,” Monica said. “That’s sort of…emotionally abusive.”
Evvie had told stories about cutting her foot open on the debris of her husband’s anger, and about his temper. She had dreamed over and over about his red face and his hot breath. She had told Dean, right from the beginning, that he wasn’t good to her. That she didn’t love him. She had whispered that she didn’t miss him. He was mean, she had told Andy. But there it was, a diagnosis like you’d give someone with a