it used to be like. At least when things were good. Me cooking, setting the table, Jason, Annie, and me sitting down to something homemade. Jason loved my cooking, even though he was no slouch when it came to the kitchen, but he said being cooked for, by me, always made him feel taken care of, made him feel safe. He always said he could taste the love in my food.
Obviously there’s no love in the lobsters, but I poured my heart and soul into the shrimp cakes, into the cilantro and garlic, lovingly minced by hand and a very sharp knife before being stirred into the mayonnaise. There was love in the tarte tatin, which has always been Jason’s most favorite dessert, served, as it will be tonight, with ice cream fragrant with dozens of tiny black vanilla pods.
I am in the shower when I hear Jason come home, and surprised when, a few moments later, there is a knock on the bathroom door.
“Hang on,” I yell, grabbing a towel and opening the door to find Jason there, embarrassed to be exposing quite so much skin, for the towel really doesn’t meet properly and I’m clutching it closed, even though it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I just see that you’ll be cooking dinner, and I’m about to go and pick up Annie from Trudy’s. I thought it might be nice to invite Trudy tonight. She and Annie are so close, I don’t know what they’re going to do without each other.”
“Of course. That’s a great idea. If Trudy is up to going out. Absolutely. Why not invite Ellie as well?” I am about to say Julia, but the memory of Jason and Julia laughing over their iced tea still feels uncomfortable to me, even though we are leaving, even though I am probably being ridiculous.
“Sure. What about Julia?”
I look at him sharply, but there is nothing in his voice, nothing in his face, that would indicate that he particularly wants Julia there.
How do I say no? How could I be childish enough to not invite my own half sibling because I think my ex-husband may find her attractive? How sixteen-year-old. How puerile. I am better than this. “Of course invite Julia. Great idea,” I say, turning so he doesn’t see the lie in my eyes. “Pick up another three lobsters, though, okay?”
He leans forward and kisses me on the cheek, and I stand there long after he’s gone back down the stairs, wondering why he suggested we have her here, and whether, despite his protestations the other day, despite denying he finds her attractive, how could he not? She looks exactly like me.
And what the hell could all this possibly mean?
Thirty-three
Ellie can’t come. She has a long-standing charity commitment that she cannot get out of, but Julia comes. She brings me flowers and a bottle of sparkling cider.
“I didn’t know what to get,” she says, walking through the door and giving me a stiff hug. “I was going to bring a bottle of wine but then I remembered, obviously, so I stood in the store for ages before deciding on this. I hope you like the flowers, I got some in town but cut a few from my neighbor’s garden to add to the bunch, and thank you so much for inviting us, Cat, this is incredibly kind.” She is chattering nineteen to the dozen, which makes me realize how nervous she must be, and that, in turn, seems to help me relax. I am the one in control.
I watch Jason carefully to see how he greets her, whether he hugs her, whether she hugs him, but they just say hello with polite smiles. I can’t detect anything at all between them. Perhaps I was imagining it after all.
Trudy gives me a hug, poor thing, still bandaged on one side of her face, and thanks me profusely for being at the hospital.
“Don’t be silly,” I say. “Any mother would have done the same thing.” And then I realize, of course, any mother apart from hers, and I wish I had just kept my mouth shut. “I didn’t mean your mo—”
“Don’t worry,” she interrupts me, laughing. “I know you and my mom have made up. It’s okay.”
“Come in, come in.” I usher the two of them inside. “Come sit down. What can I get you to drink. Iced tea?” I look at Julia. “Wine?”