Rom-Com Collection

“I’m thirteen years old, Callie,” she said patiently. “Try to, like, pace yourself on the lecture circuit, okay?” She favored me with a kiss, then hollered up the stairs to see if Josephine wanted to eat ice cream and watch SpongeBob.

“She’s the greatest kid,” I told my sister as we drove over to Elements.

“That she is,” Hester agreed. “But this father thing at school … not the first time. Last month it was Denzel Washington.”

I laughed. “Well, she has excellent taste.”

“So. I have a date,” Hester boomed.

“Oh, fun! Who is it?”

“Louis.”

I sucked in a breath of pain. Granted, I’d kind of orchestrated that by sending Louis over, but it still wasn’t a pretty mental picture. “Good luck.”

“Ayuh.” She didn’t comment further, so I changed the subject.

“What do you think about the, uh, Tour of Whores?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Seems like a lot of scab picking to me. You want to turn up here,” she said, pointing at a street sign.

“Yes, Hester, I know. I live a quarter of a mile away. Have lived in this town most of my life. Eat at this very restaurant twice a week or so.”

“Go left at the firehouse. So why did you agree to come tonight?”

“I’m afraid of Mom and don’t want to disobey her.”

“Mom’s such a pussycat,” Hester said. “You have this skewed image of her … I don’t know. Always making her the bad guy.”

“Well, what about your image of Dad?” I asked, in that sibling way one never outgrows. No, I didn’t. You did!

“Dad’s a shit,” she said calmly. “Mom, pregnant. Dad, fucking around. Do the math, Callie.”

“I know,” I muttered. “I do know. But twenty-two years is a long time to atone.”

We walked into the restaurant, where Dave greeted me in his usual way. “Callie! You look incredible tonight.” He took my hands in his strong grasp and kissed my cheek, then turned to my sister. “Hester. Always a pleasure.” She glared at him … Dave might be gay, but he was still male, and that was enough to make Hester suspicious.

“Have you talked to Damien lately?” I asked Dave.

“No, but I did get a very mysterious and romantic card yesterday,” Dave said, smiling a little, looking (sigh) like Clive Owen. So unfair … the good ones were always gay or married. Then his expression changed. “Listen, ladies.” His voice dropped. “They’re here. Your parents and the … other woman.” He looked at me seriously. “Prepare yourselves.”

He walked us to the table, and before we even got there, my steps slowed.

My parents were both in their early sixties … Fred was a surprise baby, born a week before Mom’s fortieth birthday. But even turning back the hands of time twenty years … even so … Dad’s, er, special friend here had to have been … oh gosh … older than God’s dog. Honestly, she didn’t even look alive.

A tiny, shriveled woman sat—in a wheelchair—between my parents. Mom was wiping the lady’s chin with a napkin, and Dad was patting her liver-spotted hand. Her wispy hair stirred in a draft as we approached.

“No fucking way,” Hester said in her version of a whisper, which was slightly louder than a shout. “Oh, my God, I have to go to the bathroom.” She bolted, deserting me.

“Callie. Do join us,” Mom said, pinning me with her laser look.

My mouth snapped shut. Surely there was a mistake. “Ah … I … well! Hello there!” I said, ever my father’s girl when it came to putting on a good front. “Mom! Dad! Hi!” I turned to the stranger, who was indeed alive. “I’m Calliope Grey, Tobias’s daughter.” I held out my hand to shake hers. She raised her arm weakly, then let it fall back to the table, unable to find the energy to do more.

“Is this … are you …?” I whispered to my parents.

“What did she say?” the little old lady asked, her voice creaky and thin.

This was the other woman? Holy Lord!

“Callie’s my daughter,” Dad said loudly. “Callie, this is Mae Gardner.”

“Very nice to meet you,” I lied.

“Oh. I’m fine, dear.” She smiled—no teeth, I noted, and I bit my lip. I glanced at my mother. She gave me a cool look in return, her thoughts unreadable.

“I was so happy to hear from you,” Mae said, turning her head with some effort toward my father. “To be honest, I don’t remember you, but I thought it would be nice to get out. Most of my friends are dead, after all! My great-grandson drove me. He just got his license! He did very well on the way over here. No accidents!”

“That’s great,” I said after a beat, because Mom and Dad were staring at each other and Hester was apparently never coming back to our table. Sure enough, she was waving and gesturing to her phone, pretending a patient needed her. “Is he here?”

“Is who here, dear?”

“Your great-grandson.”

“He’s in the car. He has the most cunning little gadget, it’s a talking camera or a radio or some such thing. He can take pictures with it! And type on it! Isn’t that remarkable?”

“Oh … yes,” I said. “Modern technology … amazing. So, um … how old are you, Mae, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m eighty-five,” she said. “And I knew your father here—he’s your father, you said?” I nodded. “We knew each other, oh, quite some time ago! We had some fun, didn’t we, Lenny?”

“It’s Tobias,” my father said kindly.

“Is it? I don’t know why I said Lenny. Well, I had a cousin Lenny, of course. He served in World War II, in the Pacific, and I used to send him cookies!”

With that, Mae fell asleep, her bony little chin resting on her collarbone. None of us said anything for a second. Mae gave a slight snore, assuring us that she was still in the land of the living.

“I cannot believe you cheated on me with an old woman,” my mother hissed.

“She wasn’t that old back then,” Dad said weakly.

“Children present, no fighting, please,” I interjected quietly, not wanting to wake our companion.

“Mind your own business, Callie,” Mom said.

“You made me come! And where’s our waiter? Could I please get some alcohol? You know, I could be home watching Say Yes to the Dr—”

“Hush, Callie. Tobias. Explain yourself! First that hippie widow—and I mean hippie in every sense of the word—then a blind woman … now … now … Bette Davis here! What the hell am I supposed to think?”

“At least they needed me!” Dad said, leaning forward abruptly. “Unlike you, Eleanor!”