The Burning Side(74)
It pierces me like a needle in skin. During my years with Nacho and Izzy, I believed my parents didn’t care, that they never even thought about me. But the truth is that my mother was gone and my father loved me. And love hurts so much more than indifference.
DEB
August 28, 2022
WHEN I CALL LEO TO invite him to my birthday celebration, he says he doesn’t want to intrude. But I won’t hear a fig about that, so I tell him to choose a taco topping to bring.
He chuckles. “You aren’t very good at this whole divorce thing—you keep inviting me to everything.”
In response, I defend not myself but my daughter. “April was adamant that we don’t have to lose you just because she is. She’s the one who told me to invite you.” Whether that’s the right thing to say, I don’t know. I only know that Leo is bringing shredded lettuce and queso fresco.
I also know that Josie is about to leave town, and there’s more on my agenda than just my birthday. I need all the kids to be here for this.
* * *
When Cameron and Rachel arrive, they have extra freckles from their Florida honeymoon. Rachel kisses my cheek and says, “Fifty-eight years young.”
I feel my age, and gratefully so. I relish my non-static body as proof of life lived. As proud as I was to sprout breasts and armpit hair when I was thirteen, I feel that same pride now. Back when I started going gray, Josie offered to touch me up, but I drew close to the mirror, singled out a gray hair and said, “Are you kidding? Diamonds for my crown.”
Rachel hands me some salsa and guacamole, and Leo arrives right behind them. I’ve made a chocolate coconut cake, which is on a stand in the kitchen. I sneak in there to set down the salsas, and I look around at our counter full of serving bowls: beef, cilantro, lime, veggies. Behind me, the sounds of my whole family. My heart pinches, and I take a deep breath.
As everyone shuffles into the kitchen, Billy taps a fork on a glass and says, “Feel free to grab plates and serve yourselves, buffet style.” He points out drinks in the cooler as Sadie sneaks a bite of cheese.
Then Cameron raises his glass. “To Mom—all twenty-eight years!” He winks at me.
I smile, though there’s a gleam in my eye that says, Try to take my years from me, I dare you.
Billy wraps his arm around me. By my next birthday, he might not be able to do any of this. And that’s why today is the last time we will celebrate a birthday here. I look up at him, wondering if now is the right moment to tell everyone, but I know immediately from his expression that he has forgotten about our announcement. He kisses my temple as everyone starts to load their plates with food, leaving me unsure what to do. Should I remind him before I tell everyone? He might feel blindsided, even though just a few hours ago we were in this together.
Otto is weaving through our legs like a little bird, so I get a plate of my own and scoop some beef onto it. Cameron mixes margaritas, and everyone scatters with their small talk: strongest brands of paper plates, best grasses for Texas heat, Otto’s potty-training progress, cilantro or no cilantro.
The grandchildren squeeze onto their grandfather’s lap, knowing good and well who to go to for extra cheese. Leo and Josie are stealing each other’s chips. And April and Cameron are across the room, hunched over a phone comparing cars to replace hers.
I decide it’s now or never, so I tap my glass.
“There’s something we wanted to tell y’all today.” I say we even though Billy is listening with just as much curiosity as everyone else. “We’ve decided to put the house on the market, and we’re going to move into a wonderful assisted-living community.”
I see the mixed reactions I expected. Cameron’s approval. April’s concern.
Billy isn’t upset. He’s just sitting there as though we’re talking about someone else.
Throughout the remainder of the meal, I field questions. Eventually, I find a moment to pull April aside and apologize, because I wish we could have left the house to her. We need the money for Greenwood.
“Gosh, of course,” she says. “I need to find a rental in Argyle anyway, so the kids can stay in their same community.” She frowns. “But I hope you know that if you don’t want to move, I could absolutely stay and help you with Dad. Leo would understand, and we could figure it out with the kids.”
I smile down toward my margarita. “I do know.” I meet her eyes again. “But this is best. Dad and I will both have more independence this way. It will let me be his wife, not just his caretaker.”
April nods and looks around solemnly, tearing up, which is something I haven’t seen her do for her own home or marriage. This house is her easiest grief.
When we sit back down at the table, Josie is oversharing about her dating app misadventures. She looks at me and acknowledges, “Oops, TMI.” But then she keeps right on talking. I scoop guacamole, shaking my head. Soon enough, she also taps her glass. “Okay, time to say something we love about Mom.” A Russo birthday tradition.
Sadie immediately yells, “Cookies!” She grins, a spot of salsa in her dimple.
Others mention my food, humor, verve, and the way I organize board games by color. When they prompt Otto, he smiles under the attention and simply points to me, proclaiming, “Gramma Deb!”
Josie knuckles his little head and says, “Ah yes, Gramma Deb is a great thing about Gramma Deb.”