Ten Thousand Saints - Eleanor Henderson [71]
Eliza was shaking one of the gift boxes now. For her birthday dinner, she had belatedly taken Les’s advice and chosen a dress, a strapless, coral-colored dress with a ruffled skirt and pumps to match. Full, but not full enough. She looked as though she’d swallowed one of those big, curvaceous autumn squashes. “Gucci,” she guessed.
“Nope. Go ahead and open it,” said Di. Eliza did, not taking her time. Inside was a silver watch, slender as a bracelet.
“Ooh, Tiffany’s!”
Eliza was a thrift store hound; she was not one to exclaim over costly gifts. Di wasn’t really one to give them, either. They were putting on a sick sort of show, bending over backward to please each other. Eliza leaned over and placed her wrist on Johnny’s knee, and Johnny fastened the watch for her. Then she trotted over to kiss her mother’s cheek. It was unbearable, watching a person who was in the dark, especially when it was you who had put her there.
“Going to check on that lamb,” Les said, mostly to himself, and returned to the kitchen.
Eliza balled up the wrapping paper, tossed it at Jude, and tied the ribbon around Johnny’s thigh. “Thanks,” he said.
“It’s a garter,” she explained.
“Would you boys care for wine?” Di asked, picking up the open bottle that Les had left on the table.
Jude and Johnny declined. “They’re straight edge,” said Eliza in a mock whisper.
“Of course. I forgot. Eliza?” She lifted the bottle. Eliza shook her head, crossed her legs, and stared at her shoes.
“I’m feeling kind of yucky,” she said and patted her belly heartily. At this, Jude could not help but direct a desperate glance at Johnny. What was that about? And what was with the getup? She was nearly five months pregnant.
Di stood up, walked over to her daughter, and held the back of her hand to her forehead. “You don’t have a fever, darling.”
“Something smells good,” Jude said loudly.
“It really does,” Johnny agreed.
“Neena’s doing a lamb,” Di said.
“Mother, you know they’re vegetarian. They don’t eat lamb.”
“Of course. Vegan, isn’t it?”
“Vee-gan,” said Jude helpfully. “Vay-gans are from the planet Vega.”
Di returned to the divan, turned sideways so she could stare into the picture window behind her. The sun was sinking over New Jersey. “Listen to you three, with your secret codes.” She sipped her wine. “You’re all very busy together, aren’t you?”
“We’ve been going to the temple a lot,” said Jude.
“When I was sixteen, I was dancing seven days a week. I didn’t have time to run around the city with a couple of boys.”
“Johnny’s eighteen,” Eliza pointed out.
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows, impressed. “An adult. What do you do, Johnny?”
“I’m a musician.”
“And a tattoo artist,” Eliza added. Jude looked at her with concern, but she waved her hand. “What’s she going to do—call the police? She’s practically married to a drug dealer.”
“We are not married, practically or even remotely,” said Di. “Do you make a decent living with tattoos, Johnny?”
“Getting there,” Johnny said. He was sitting comfortably, legs crossed, nibbling macadamia nuts from a glass bowl he cupped in his hand. “I save money by working out of my apartment.”
“And where is this apartment?”
“Mother, what does it matter?”
“What about college? You don’t live with anyone? Your family?”
“Mother, don’t be rude!”
“I don’t have any family, ma’am.” Every pair of eyes in the room dropped to the floor. Johnny shifted his to the painting above the piano. The man’s back was as smooth and as rippled as a conch.
Di sipped her wine thoughtfully. “I’m awfully sorry about that.”
“I bet this one’s Burberry,” said Eliza, ripping the paper from one of the larger gifts. This time she was right. Inside was a checked wool scarf, feathered at the ends and wide as a shawl. “Oh, I love it!” She whipped it extravagantly around her neck and crossed the room again to