Totally and Completely Fine(98)

Ben looked at me, and I nodded in agreement.

“Hey, Lena,” he said, holding up the bag he was carrying. “I got you some ice cream.”

She stared blankly at him.

“You know, because of the whole queer elder thing and telling Ollie…” He trailed off when it was clear she wasn’t going to respond.

“That was your doing?” Ollie asked.

“I’ll just go put this in the freezer,” Ben said.

“It’s pretty crowded in there,” I said. “Feel free to move things around.”

He disappeared into the kitchen.

“This is going great,” Gabe said.

Chani hit him on the arm.

“When do you start filming?” she asked when Ben came back into the room.

“Next month,” he said. “But they want me in L.A. tomorrow.” He looked at Ollie and Gabe. “I swear I tried to get them to push it back until after the play, but—”

“We know how it is,” Ollie said.

Gabe just nodded, and then turned to me.

“How’s your speech coming?” Gabe asked.

“Speech?” Ben asked.

“I’m supposed to speak at the engagement party,” I said.

“My speech is amazing, by the way,” Ollie said. “In case anyone was wondering.”

“Mine’s not going to be as good as Ollie’s,” I said.

That got a laugh—a sad trickle of one, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Why don’t we grab plates,” I said. “Everything is set up in the kitchen.”

We all filed in, making a ramshackle line of sorts. Lena was at the front, but just as she was reaching for the chicken, she knocked over the gravy.

A dozen hands scrambled to right the gravy bowl, but some had gotten on the counter. I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed up the mess.

“No harm, no foul,” I said, before passing the sullied towel to Lena to throw out.

She stepped on the pedal to open the trash can, looked in, and froze.

Then she reached in.

“What are you doing?” I asked, grossed out.

Lena’s face was pale and drawn as she pulled out a familiar wrapped bundle.

“Why is this in the trash?” she asked.

It was Spencer’s pizza dough. His last pizza dough.

Everyone was frozen. Even though I was sure that Chani and Ollie, like Ben, had no idea what this was about, it was clear that it was something.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I saw it had gotten moldy, so I tossed it—was it a science experiment or something?”

I came over to Lena immediately and saw that Ben was right. At some point, the Saran Wrap had been punctured and it had been left out long enough to get black spots on it.

“Mom?” Lena asked, her voice small and wavering.

“It’s okay,” I said, taking the dough from her.

We both looked at it.

“Can’t we just put it back?” Lena asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

It was gross—beyond spoiled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d really looked at it.

“I’m sorry, honey,” I said, and dropped it back into the trash can.

Lena reacted violently.

“What did you do that for?” She pulled the dough out again and pressed it against her chest.

It had gotten mixed up with the garbage, so she’d inadvertently spread some leftover cottage cheese and fruit across the front of her shirt.

“Lena.” I tried to take it from her, but she pulled away.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to throw it out,” she said.

“Lena,” Mom tried, but she pulled away from her too, clutching the pizza dough even closer to her.

“There’s nothing we can do,” I said.

“We could make some more,” Ben offered, but it was absolutely the wrong thing to say and the wrong time to interject.

Lena spun toward him.

“We can’t just make some more,” she spat. “My dad made this.”

“Oh,” Ben said.

“Lena.” Ollie stepped forward, but she just shot him a glare. He withdrew immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, because you’re not my dad,” Lena said. “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’ll ever be my dad.”

It was like a slap in the face.

I could see shock radiate around the room.

I didn’t know how Lena had figured it out, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. She was always more observant than I gave her credit for.

“Lena!” Mom said. “Language.”

Of course, that was the least of our worries right now.

“Please, honey,” I said. “Not here—let’s go somewhere. Talk about it.”

I reached for her, but she pulled away.

“I hate you,” she said.

Me, but also Ben.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him.

“It’s fine,” Ben said.

“It’s not fine!” Lena’s voice was rising in volume and pitch. “None of this is fine! Dad is dead and now we can’t make pizza, and you don’t even care.”