We will be in on Saturday night, but we’re having a little gathering. You’re very welcome to come! Since you told me you never wanted to set foot in the house again or see my face, I didn’t think you would appreciate an invitation, but of course if you want to, we’d be super-thrilled to see you. Black tie, drinks from 6:30 p.m.
Krista
I read the email twice through, my shock rising as I fully take it in.
She wasn’t just delaying my invitation—I wasn’t going to be invited at all. To my own family home. To my own family party, to which the entire rest of the world has been invited. I wasn’t on the list.
This is Krista’s bomb, after all these weeks. She must have been waiting and waiting to drop it, and I can just see her triumphant, pink-lip-glossed smile.
My face is burning hot. My brain feels all jangly. It never even occurred to me they wouldn’t invite me, that they would actually cut me out of this last chance to say goodbye to our family home.
“So, did you get the email?” says Temi, wandering in, and I look up, trying to appear cheerful.
“NFI,” I manage, and watch as her face drops in utter shock.
“Not invited? You’re kidding!” She grabs the laptop out of my hand and scans it intently. “Wait. You are invited.”
“That’s not really invited, though, is it? I wasn’t on the list. Krista’s ‘allowing’ me to come to the party. It’s different. In fact, this entire email is pretty much an anti-invitation.”
“This is unreal,” Temi breathes. “It’s your house!”
“Not anymore.”
“Wait, but…your dad.” Her eyes widen. “Is he OK with this? He can’t be!”
“Not sure,” I say, trying to force my lips into a smile. “Guess he must be. You know we don’t really talk anymore. So. This must be…what he wants too.”
I lapse into silence. I feel as if a door has clanged shut somewhere. I didn’t even know it was open, but now it’s definitely shut.
“This is outrageous!” Temi erupts. “How long did you live in that house? And how long has Krista been on the scene? And as for your dad—” She breaks off in disbelief, and for a few moments we’re both silent.
“Well, anyway,” I say at last, my voice trembling. “Give me that.” With stiff hands, I take my laptop back and press reply.
“What are you doing?” queries Temi.
“I’m going to decline Krista’s charming anti-invitation.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Don’t yet. Sleep on it.”
I’ve never understood the “sleep on it” thing. What, have a miserable, sleepless night, brooding on your problem, simply in order to do the thing you were going to do the night before—only now you’ve delayed by twelve hours. How is that a good idea?
“Nothing to think about,” I say, and start typing, fast.
Dear Krista,
What a wonderful, inviting email!!!
I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the invitation you sent Bean, which I see was a bit different. How clever of you to do different invitations for everyone. Super-personalized!
Unfortunately, I must decline your welcoming offer. I’ve remembered I will have another engagement that night. I’m just not sure what it is yet.
You must be so looking forward to showing off our house to the whole village!!! I do hope all goes well, and thanks again for including me on the email that you sent.
All best regards,
Effie
I press send before I can have second thoughts, or indeed any thoughts—my head feels weirdly empty—then get up.
“Where are you going?” demands Temi. “Effie, are you OK?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m going to Mimi’s.”
Our family is broken, and that’s just a fact.
As I stride along the street to Mimi’s flat, my thoughts are fast and furious and wretched. Bean can say whatever UN peacekeeper-y things she likes, but look at us. We used to be the closest-ever family, meeting up for lunches, picnics, cinema outings… But now we never get together. I haven’t seen Dad for weeks. Gus has gone AWOL. Even Bean is on the quiet side. And now this.
Miserably, my mind travels back to how my rift with Dad began. Because it wasn’t my fault, it really wasn’t. The day after I stormed out of Greenoaks, I phoned him. I didn’t get through, but I left him a message. I suggested maybe we could have lunch or something?
Then I waited. A day went by. Two days. Three days. I kept planning all the things I would say when we talked it over. I even wrote myself a kind of script. I would apologize for overreacting. And for yelling at Krista. But then I would explain that we three didn’t see a nice “fresh” kitchen, we saw our childhoods wiped out. I would explain that I feel constantly uneasy round Krista. I would explain that this has all been harder than he maybe realizes…