LITMIR.BIZ

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friend here had to have been … oh gosh … older than God’s dog. Honestly, she didn’t even look alive.

      A tiny, shriveled woman sat—in a wheelchair—between my parents. Mom was wiping the lady’s chin with a napkin, and Dad was patting her liver-spotted hand. Her wispy hair stirred in a draft as we approached.

      “No fucking way,” Hester said in her version of a whisper, which was slightly louder than a shout. “Oh, my God, I have to go to the bathroom.” She bolted, deserting me.

      “Callie. Do join us,” Mom said, pinning me with her laser look.

      My mouth snapped shut. Surely there was a mistake. “Ah … I … well! Hello there!” I said, ever my father’s girl when it came to putting on a good front. “Mom! Dad! Hi!” I turned to the stranger, who was indeed alive. “I’m Calliope Grey, Tobias’s daughter.” I held out my hand to shake hers. She raised her arm weakly, then let it fall back to the table, unable to find the energy to do more.

      “Is this … are you …?” I whispered to my parents.

      “What did she say?” the little old lady asked, her voice creaky and thin.

      This was the other woman? Holy Lord!

      “Callie’s my daughter,” Dad said loudly. “Callie, this is Mae Gardner.”

      “Very nice to meet you,” I lied.

      “Oh. I’m fine, dear.” She smiled—no teeth, I noted, and I bit my lip. I glanced at my mother. She gave me a cool look in return, her thoughts unreadable.

      “I was so happy to hear from you,” Mae said, turning her head with some effort toward my father. “To be honest, I don’t remember you, but I thought it would be nice to get out. Most of my friends are dead, after all! My great-grandson drove me. He just got his license! He did very well on the way over here. No accidents!”

      “That’s great,” I said after a beat, because Mom and Dad were staring at each other and Hester was apparently never coming back to our table. Sure enough, she was waving and gesturing to her phone, pretending a patient needed her. “Is he here?”

      “Is who here, dear?”

      “Your great-grandson.”

      “He’s in the car. He has the most cunning little gadget, it’s a talking camera or a radio or some such thing. He can take pictures with it! And type on it! Isn’t that remarkable?”

      “Oh … yes,” I said. “Modern technology … amazing. So, um … how old are you, Mae, if you don’t mind my asking?”

      “I’m eighty-five,” she said. “And I knew your father here—he’s your father, you said?” I nodded. “We knew each other, oh, quite some time ago! We had some fun, didn’t we, Lenny?”

      “It’s Tobias,” my father said kindly.

      “Is it? I don’t know why I said Lenny. Well, I had a cousin Lenny, of course. He served in World War II, in the Pacific, and I used to send him cookies!”

      With that, Mae fell asleep, her bony little chin resting on her collarbone. None of us said anything for a second. Mae gave a slight snore, assuring us that she was still in the land of the living.

      “I cannot believe you cheated on me with an old woman,” my mother hissed.

      “She wasn’t that old back then,” Dad said weakly.

      “Children present, no fighting, please,” I interjected quietly, not wanting to wake our companion.

      “Mind your own business, Callie,” Mom said.

      “You made me come! And where’s our waiter? Could I please get some alcohol? You know, I could be home watching Say Yes to the Dr—”

      “Hush, Callie. Tobias. Explain yourself! First that hippie widow—and I mean hippie in every sense of the word—then a blind woman … now … now … Bette Davis here! What the hell am I supposed to think?”

      “At least they needed me!” Dad said, leaning forward abruptly. “Unlike you, Eleanor!”

      “Oh, right. So it’s my fault now,” my mother said, disdain dripping from her voice.

      Mae twitched in her sleep. “It’s in the left drawer,” she said, then resettled herself and gave another gentle snore.

      “No, it’s not your fault. Of course not,” Dad replied in a softer voice. “I did a horrible thing, Eleanor. I broke our marriage vows, and I hurt you.” His voice became firmer. “I’ve admitted that, and I’ve been apologizing for decades now, and I’ve told you again and again that I’d do anything to make it up to you … which I think I’ve proved by dragging these women back into our lives.”

      Mom didn’t answer, just gripped the stem of her wineglass. Her shoulders were tense, the only indication that she was listening.

      “But maybe you should take some responsibility, too, Ellie,” Dad went on, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “The minute we moved to Georgebury, it was like I was just … some … appendage or something. You had the family business, you had the girls, you had your work, and on the nights when I was home, I was just someone who messed up your routine. You couldn’t wait for me to go back on the road again!”

      “Oh, Dad, nobody felt like that,” I attempted. “We loved when you were home.”

      “Hush, Callie,” he said.

      “Why don’t I just go to the bar and have a nice drink?” I suggested.

      “Stay where you are,” Mom ordered. “We might need you if she wakes up.” She gave Dad an icy look. “And it wasn’t like that at all, Tobias.”

      “Wasn’t it?” he asked fiercely. “Callie, did you ever feel neglected or overlooked because your mother was so obsessed with her dead people and creating the perfect send-off and comforting and coddling everyone but her husband and kids? Did you, honey?”

      “I’d like to invoke the fifth amendment,” I said, waving to Dave. “Can I get a drink over here, Dave? Something large?” Dave pulled a face, rightfully wary of approaching.

      “She did, Eleanor,” my father said. “And so did Hester, and I’m sure Freddie has as well. And as for me, Ellie—” here my father’s voice cracked “—you barely remembered who I was.” His eyes were wet.

      “I remembered enough to get pregnant with your child,” Mom said, but her voice was not quite as certain as before.

      “Yeah. The first time we’d had sex in a year and a half.” I closed my eyes. Would that aliens would abduct me right about now. “And I was so happy about a new baby,” Dad continued. “But you weren’t, were you? This was just a great inconvenience.”

      Mom blinked. “I was thirty-nine years old, Toby.”

      She hadn’t called him that in a long, long time.

      “It was a baby, Ellie. Our baby. But every time I brought up the subject, what should we name him, should we take another vacation before he came, you just gave me a dirty look and left the room.”

      “I love Freddie,” Mom said, opening her hands up in an appeal.

      “I know. But you stopped loving me. I don’t know when, but you did, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make you love me again, and yes, I had three one-night stands, and I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, and I’m so damn tired of being sorry.” My father’s face crumpled. “I wanted to be needed. I wanted to be appreciated, and I was an idiot, and I’d take it back if I could, I’d cut out my heart if it would make you forgive me, but for Christ’s sake, Eleanor, it didn’t happen in a vacuum.”

      My mother was silent, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

      My father stood up. “I’m

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