Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [103]
But Neil doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead, he is studying Chloe’s tiny handprint on the front of the card, running his fingers over the rough paint.
“We’d love to come,” Neil says, smiling at me. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns to leave, but turns back halfway across the lawn. “And by the way, there are no partners in mah-jongg. It’s every woman for herself.”
chapter 22
“I thought you’d be pleased!” I tell Ruth, who is in the process of wailing into the phone.
“But it’s tomorrow! My hair’s a mess, and I have nothing to wear. I can’t possibly be ready in time,” she groans.
“Of course, you can—you’re ready now. And it’s a kid’s birthday party, not an actual date!”
Ruth sighs. “So, where did you say you ran into Neil?”
“On the street. Near Rona Silverman’s house,” I tell her, not exactly a lie.
“I wonder what he was doing there,” Ruth asks. I say nothing. It wouldn’t be as much of an issue if I’d just told Ruth in the first place that Neil had been at Gymboree that week. It was a silly omission, and I now wonder why I held out. There really was no reason not to have told her, but to reveal it now would be awkward. Then, I remember Neil’s comment about mah-jongg yesterday, and I feel my face get hot.
“Why don’t you see if you can get your hair done on Sunday before the party? I’ll watch Carlos.” I can’t believe I’ve just volunteered to babysit Carlos.
“Really? Don’t you have stuff to do?”
Of course I do. “Not too much really, and besides Fiona and my dad are going to help with the decorations, so I’m in good shape. Just drop him off early,” I tell her.
“Well, maybe, if you’re sure,” she says. Ruth calls back a while later and arranges to drop Carlos off a few hours early so she can get her hair and nails done before the party.
On Sunday, Richard is the first to arrive, bringing with him a huge kitchen set, complete with an impressive assortment of kitchen implements and life-size plastic food, that will likely take my father and me most of the afternoon to put together. He chats effortlessly with Fiona and even remembers to ask my father about his latest grant proposal. In fact, he’s so much his usual, jovial self that I find myself studying him closely, wondering if perhaps I’d imagined the shaky hands, bloodshot eyes, and the droopy, hangdog look yesterday. Not to mention the two wineglasses in the sink.
Nevertheless, I’ve promised myself that I will look for an opportunity this afternoon to talk to Richard alone, so I lose no time getting him in the kitchen under the guise of helping me finish the fruit salad. But once we’re there, I have no idea how—or where—to begin.
“Richard,” I say.
“Oh, Mira, I can’t believe I forgot,” Richard says, wiping his hands on a dish towel and disappearing into the mudroom at the back of the house. He emerges a few seconds later carrying a small, velvet jewelry box. “It’s Chloe’s real present. I hope I have the distinction of giving Chloe her first piece of jewelry,” Richard says formally, taking a beautiful, antique sterling silver baby bracelet from the satin-lined box and offering it to me for inspection. He has had HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Chloe’s initials, and the date engraved along its underside.
“Richard, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” I tell him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. I put my hand on his shoulder and begin again, “Richard, I—”
Once again we are interrupted, this time by Ruth who, weighed down by a large floral arrangement, is rapping urgently at the kitchen door with her elbows.
“Sorry about the elbows,” she says when I open the door. “My nails are still wet. Here, these are for you,” she says, handing me the flowers. “No one thinks to give the parents a birthday present on the kid’s birthday, but after all, it’s a milestone for you, too. The day your life changed forever. Happy Chloe’s birthday, Mira,” Ruth says, hugging me.
“Isn’t that the truth, speaks the man with no progeny!” Richard says, helping