Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [106]
Of course I try to explain, but Ruth tells me she’s in no mood to hear it. “All this time, I thought you were helping me,” she says, her voice cold and low. I try to tell her that I hadn’t done anything to encourage Neil. I was trying to help her. But none of it makes any difference. The sound of our arguing chases my father and Richard from the living room. Fiona takes Chloe upstairs. I follow Ruth and Carlos out to the car, but Ruth still refuses to talk to me, refuses even to look at me.
Back inside, the house is quiet. I grab a picnic blanket from the mudroom, wrap it around myself, and head outside to the front porch where I curl up on the porch swing, furious with myself for letting things get so out of hand. Why hadn’t I anticipated this would happen? What had I been thinking? The problem is I’ve never been the type to think too far ahead, which might explain why I’ve never been any good at games. Unlike Ruth, I’m incapable of developing anything resembling a strategy.
It’s starting to get dark when Fiona joins me on the porch. She scoots my feet over to make room for herself on the end of the swing. “May I, Mira?” she asks, her voice gentle. She takes out her knitting, spreads her pattern over her knees, and dons her glasses.
“Richard left. Said for you to give him a call later. Oh, and Ben called,” Fiona tells me. “Water main break in Bloomfield. He worked all day. Asked me to tell you he’s sorry to have missed the party.”
I nod.
“He’s got a little gift for Chloe, though. He wanted to bring it by, but I told him he’d better wait for another time.” She looks down at me over her reading glasses. “I figured you’d had enough entertaining for one day.” I lay my head against the back of the swing, listening to the comforting click of Fiona’s knitting needles.
“You know, Mira,” Fiona says, laying aside her knitting and turning to look at me. I can feel her eyes on me for several seconds, and when I return her gaze, she smiles at me. “Ruth will come around.”
“I’m not so sure,” I tell her.
“Of course she will. She just needs to realize that you didn’t do anything wrong. Right now she’s angry at you because it’s easier to blame you than blame herself.”
“But Ruth didn’t do anything wrong! Besides, they’re much better suited to each other than Neil and me.”
Fiona laughs. “In my opinion he’s not ready for either of you. Neil’s got to get over Sarah first.” I look at her, surprised. “Ruth filled me in on a few of the details while you were upstairs changing. Sooner or later she’s going to realize that the route to the altar does not run through Leah Hollander’s back door. When she does, she’ll be back,” Fiona says, picking up her knitting. “Mira, you can’t make someone love you. Just like you can’t help who you love. Look at your father and me. Who would have thought? He’s so smart, and I have to take off my shoes just to make change.” Fiona removes her feet from her sandals, wiggles her fuchsia-stained toes, and giggles.
I can’t believe I ever thought Fiona shallow. When she leans over to pat my hand, I take hers and clasp it in both of mine. Then I lay my head on her shoulder and begin to cry.
chapter 23
Figuring that Chloe needs a twelve-month checkup, I finally break down and make an appointment for her with a doctor in the pediatric group Ruth uses. According to Dr. Brent, Chloe is healthy, happy, and developmentally on schedule. She seems pleased with her progress, applauding my choice of Gymboree class and even complimenting me on the wide variety of foods Chloe has been exposed to, telling me that I am setting the pattern for good lifelong eating habits.
“Give yourself a pat on the back,” she says.
“What can I say?” I tell Dr. Brent, hoping I don’t sound too smug. “Food’s my thing.” Then, as we are leaving the office, she gives me