“There are lifeguards there.”
“There are lifeguards at beaches, too.”
“Mary Jane. Do not get fresh with me. You are asking to go away for a week with a family your father and I don’t know. I’d like to speak to Dr. Cone to make sure this is a safe and wise decision.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll come up just before dinner.”
I looked around the kitchen. If my mother walked in, she wouldn’t approve of the Cones’ taste—antiques, Buddhas, framed etchings with naked people in them. Also, if she saw Sheba and Jimmy, I’d be imprisoned at home. And of course, Mrs. Cone was supposed to be ill. For just a minute I imagined her meeting my mother at the door, her nipples pushing out through her tank top. “Mrs. Cone doesn’t like visitors.”
“Then call me before dinner tonight and put Dr. Cone on the phone.”
“Okay, I will.”
“And, Mary Jane, if you’re working around the clock like that, you need to be paid more.”
“Okay, I’ll ask if they’re going to pay me more.” I would not.
“Do they have a proper meat thermometer for your pork roast?”
“Yes.” I’d bought one at Eddie’s.
“Are you doing the berries and whipped cream for dessert?”
“Izzy’s never had s’mores, so I bought the ingredients for them.”
“That’s not a proper dessert for adults.”
“I can make the berries and whipped cream, too.”
“What kind of butter do they keep in the house?”
“Land O’Lakes.” This I had also purchased at Eddie’s.
“Salted or unsalted?”
“Salted.”
“Don’t put too much on the peas and corn. Just enough to lightly coat them.”
“Okay.”
There was silence for a moment. I felt something coming across the phone line. Loneliness, maybe. Could it be that my mother missed me?
“I’ll talk to you tonight when you make the call for Dr. Cone.”
“Okay, Mom.” I wanted to say love you, as Izzy and I now said every night when I put her to sleep. But my parents didn’t say those words. Instead I just hung up.
The rest of the afternoon as Izzy and I prepared dinner and folded and ironed two loads of laundry, I worried about my mother’s conversation with Dr. Cone. How could I make sure Mrs. Cone’s make-believe cancer didn’t come up? If I told Dr. Cone about the lie, would he still want me to watch his child and go to the beach with them? Could he abide a liar in his house? If I were a mother, would I let a liar （and maybe a sex addict） take care of my child?
As the roast was cooking, and Izzy and I were setting the table, Dr. Cone and Jimmy entered the house. Jimmy went straight to his guitar in the kitchen. Dr. Cone came into the dining room and said, “Smells wonderful.”
I smiled and my face burned. My heart was beating so hard, I thought I might collapse right there. “Dr. Cone?” I managed.
Dr. Cone squinted at me. “Mary Jane, you okay?”
“May I speak with you privately?”
“Mary Jane, are you okay?” Izzy hugged my legs and looked up at me.
“Yes. I just need to talk to your dad a minute.”
“Izzy, go help Jimmy.”
Izzy squeezed my legs and then ran off to Jimmy. Dr. Cone pulled out a chair and put his arm out, indicating I should sit. I did. He sat next to me. “Just breathe. In and out. Slowly.”
I took an inhale and then exhaled slowly. It did make me feel better. “My mother wants to talk to you before she agrees that I can go to the beach.”
“Okay. That’s okay.”
“But I told her something I shouldn’t have.” I took another deep breath and when I exhaled, I started crying. It surprised me as much as it seemed to surprise Dr. Cone.
Dr. Cone pulled the napkin from the place setting in front of him and handed it to me. “Did you tell her about Jimmy and Sheba?”
I shook my head. “Worse.”
“Worse? It’s okay, Mary Jane. You can tell me.”
“I told her . . .” I startled myself by crying too hard to speak. Harder than I’d ever cried in front of my parents, who didn’t allow crying. I couldn’t help but think how different I was these days. I was growing into someone new, new even to me.
“Breathe in, breathe out.”
I took a breath in. “I told her . . .” My voice hitched and I breathed out, firmly. “I told her Mrs. Cone has cancer.”