What Alice Forgot - Liane Moriarty [134]
She began to move her hips in imitation of her mother, while trying to keep the top half of her body still. The crowd roared its approval and she heard a child, probably Olivia, shout, “Go, Mummy!” Nick laughed. He was stepping on her toes. Barb and Roger were grinning like Cheshire cats. She could hear their children shouting out from the audience.
There was still chemistry. She could feel it in their hands. She could see it in his eyes. Even if it was just a memory of chemistry. There was still something. Alice’s head was dizzy with hope.
The music stopped. “See! Anyone can learn to salsa!” cried Roger as Nick dropped his hands from her waist and turned away.
Elisabeth’s Homework for Jeremy
We were driving to the Family Talent Night when I had a sudden craving for television.
House was on. I needed to see Dr. House being nasty and sarcastic while he diagnosed impossible medical conditions. What would Dr. House say about me? I wish you were more like Dr. House, Jeremy. You’re so nice and polite. It’s annoying. Niceness doesn’t cure anyone. Why don’t you just bring me face-to-face with a few home truths?
“You’re infertile. Get over it,” House would sneer, brandishing his cane, and I’d be shocked and invigorated.
“Can we turn around?” I told Ben.
He didn’t try to change my mind. He is being very gentle and careful at the moment. The adoption application forms have disappeared from the kitchen counter. He’s put them away. Temporarily. I can see the idea still shining in his eyes. He still has hope. Which is exactly the problem. I cannot afford any more hope.
I rang him after I got the blood-test results and when I went to speak, I found no words came out of my mouth, and when he didn’t say anything, I knew he was trying not to cry. You can always tell when he’s trying not to cry. Like he’s fighting off something invisible trying to take over his head.
“We’ll be okay,” he finally said.
No we won’t, I thought. “Yes,” I said.
I almost told him the truth.
Actually, no I didn’t. Not even close.
After House I watched Medium, and then Boston Legal and then Cheaters! That’s the show where they spy on real people cheating on their spouses and then confront them with television cameras. It’s seedy and gray and trashy. We sure do live in a seedy, gray, trashy world, Jeremy.
It’s possible my mental health is poorly at the moment.
The show was over and the adults were standing around, drinking tea and coffee from paper cups and balancing pikelets on serviettes in the palms of their hands.
A huge gang of grandchildren and great-grandchildren were whooping with joy, racing on wheelchairs down the front of the hall.
“Should they be playing on those?” Alice asked Frannie, trying to be a responsible grown-up, as she saw Madison pushing a chair with Olivia and Tom squished in side by side, their legs stuck straight out in front of them.
“Of course not,” sighed Frannie. “But I think it might be one of our residents running the race.” She pointed to the white-haired man she’d been arguing with earlier who was wearing the shiny polka-dot waistcoat. He was racing along in a wheelchair, spinning the wheels with his hands, yelling, “You can’t catch me!”
Frannie’s lips twitched. “He’s eighty-five going on five.” She paused. “Actually, I might just take some photos for the newsletter.” She hurried off. Nick, Alice, and Ella were left together.
“Well, that was quite a performance.” Ella was carrying Billy, who had his thumb in his mouth, his head draped over her shoulder. She squinted over his head at Nick and Alice as if they were scientific specimens. “That was the last thing I expected to see.”
“Just wanted to show Dad up,” said Nick. He picked up a scone and put the whole thing in his mouth.
“Are you hungry?” asked Alice. She scanned the tables. “Do you want a sandwich? They’ve got curried egg.” Nick liked curried egg sandwiches.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably