I hang up, and for some reason, my mind coughs up an image of a velvet bodice Suze gave me for Christmas in ninth grade. She crafted it of dark-red velvet and edged the square neckline and the short sleeves with gold lace and hand-sewn pearls of alternating sizes, larger and smaller. She lined it with satin. “So you can be Juliet whenever you want,” she said. When I wore it over a white dress, I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world, and even my mother loved it.
What difference does it make if she loved Joel forty years ago?
Except it matters that she’s kept the secret for so very long. Why wouldn’t she have said something when I saw her— Oh my God. I sink down on the bed, haunted by the vision of her at the unwed mothers’ home.
The sorrow—so many things hidden by both of us, so many things lost, so much I misunderstood—bends me right in half, and I cover my face with my hands, rocking myself back and forth as waves of regret and shame and a tangle of resentments and jealousies and ugliness slam me.
Oh, Suze, I’m so sorry.
When I’m feeling more settled, I take a breath and head back downstairs. To Ben. To Jasmine.
He’s washing dishes, which touches me somehow, and looks up when I come down the stairs. “You okay?”
I shake my head. “She’s the only one they didn’t actually kill.”
“I get that.” He comes to stand beside me, and covers one of my hands with his own. “Where’s Jasmine?”
I point toward the stairs.
“Good.” He slides a hand under my hair and pulls me into a kiss. “Is that okay?”
I nod. “Very. I’m sorry I was weird last night. I just feel nervous about Jasmine.”
He brushes a lock of hair from my face. “I get it. But you’re allowed to have a life, too.”
“Yes.” Impulsively, I lift on my toes and kiss him back. “You can set the table.”
“No!” Jasmine cries from the bottom of the stairs. “That’s my job.”
Ben doesn’t move away as fast as I hope, and I slide around him, feeling embarrassed. Even more so when Jasmine says, “Did you guys kiss?”
“Yes,” Ben pipes up. “Is that okay with you?”
“I don’t care.”
I finally notice that her fists are clenched and disengage from Ben. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Did you know that we’re going to be in England at Christmastime?” Her entire body is taut with emotion. “Christmas! Did you know?”
I squat so I’m closer to her level, and take her hand. “I figured you would be. It’s fall now. Christmas isn’t that far away.”
“How can I have Christmas there? Huh?”
“Honey! Maybe it will be special. I’ll come and help celebrate. How’s that?”
“It’s not that. Where will we put our Christmas tree? And we won’t have Maui trying to eat the presents and I won’t have any friends and it’s going to be awful!” She bursts into tears and falls into my arms, sobbing with the heartbreak only a child can truly express.
I hug her, remembering how it felt when my parents didn’t listen to me over their divorce and not even Amma had much to say because she was so busy taking care of Suze.
Whoa. Where did that come from? I think.
But Jasmine is what matters right now. I hold her tight, smelling her hair. “It’s scary.”
“Yes. And awful. And it makes me feel so, so, so lonely.”
“I know.” I stroke her hair. “Go ahead and let it out.”
She simply leans into my embrace and sobs. Sobs and sobs and sobs. Behind me, I hear Ben doing something in the kitchen, but I keep my focus on Jasmine. After a while, she raises her head. I brush tears from her cheeks with my thumbs. “I wish I could make your life perfect,” I say. “But I don’t have that power. I can tell you that things work out.”
She bows her head.
“Do you want some lunch?” I ask. “I made you a grilled cheese.”
Her voice is small. Tragic. “Yes.”
“I’ve got it ready right here,” Ben says. “But I’m gonna need you to set the table.”
“Okay.” She wipes her face, then goes to the drawer and gets out napkins and place mats and carries them over, where she places them with exactness.
Ben has finished the tuna salad, and made sandwiches with lettuce and tomato and a little pile of chips on each plate. He’s not waiting for applause or acknowledgment, just picks up a couple of plates and takes them to the table.