Ambrosia (A Flowering Novella) (7 page)

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A
fter dinner, my dad and Jon head downstairs to the basement to play with tools or something. I wish they would invite Jack, but we have to get back anyway. He’s helping my mother clean up when she turns to me. “Lily, do you mind if I steal Jack for a few minutes before you go?”

Although we all mostly understand each other now, she and Jack have never been close. She tends to treat him like a puppy rather than my fiancé and the man I love, but it’s better than how much she used to hate him. Still, I feel wary about her having a chat with him, but what can I do?

“Sure,” I say, and I sit in the sunroom and update my wedding planner, reviewing my mom’s packet of wedding passages. They’re all detailed with her opinions, but the passages are so impersonal. The one part of the wedding that is important to me, that I don’t want to get anyone else’s help on, is the ceremony, because it’s what I’ll remember. I want to publicly explain why this is the only path my life can take. I know I’ll have a long list, when I’m old, of things that I wish I had or hadn’t done, or things that I wish I had done differently, but I want to ensure that Jack knows, in front of everyone, that he is the only decision in my life that I will never regret. 

L
ily’s mom brings me up to her old bedroom. I guess I’m surprised that nothing looks any different, even after two years, but I suppose that so little of it was really her anyway. The weird wreaths are still hanging on the walls. The wicker furniture is in place. Her bed is perfectly made and I can’t help but think of some of the moments she and I had in it. It’s not what I should be thinking about while her mom wants to talk to me, but I can’t help it.

“Have a seat,” Mrs. Drummond says.

“Uh, thanks,” I mutter and settle into the wicker chair. This shit is horribly uncomfortable. What’s the point of having furniture that makes you prefer standing?

“I wanted to talk to you, privately, because there are things I need to say,” she starts.

“Look, Mrs. Drummond-” I’m about to tell her that I don’t want to argue, to cause tension, to do anything but be the best man I can be for her daughter, but she waves me off and silences me.

“First of all, call me Susan. You’re family now, Jack. I haven’t been great at making you feel that, I know, and that’s the second thing. That’s the main thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.

She continues. “I know you call her princess. For me, she is. She doesn’t even know this, but I wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant, you know. Jon came and it was a miracle. The doctors tried to convince me to get surgery after he was born, because it was touch and go for a while, but I couldn’t do it. I loved him and I was so grateful, but I had always wanted a daughter.” She looks down and her face drains of color. “Sometimes, I hate admitting that. It makes it sound like I don’t love my son equally, and please understand, I do love him. But he was supposed to be it for us, yet I refused to keep trying. When I got pregnant again...” She pauses, tears starting to spill from her eyes, and I shift uncomfortably. Lily’s mom is the most stoic human being I’ve ever met. I don’t have family and I certainly have no fucking clue how to have this conversation.

Susan laughs lightly and shakes it off. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just want you to know that Lily was never supposed to be here. I fought so hard to have her. Through the entire pregnancy, they gave me warning after warning that she may not make it, that even if the birth went smoothly, there was a good chance she wouldn’t survive. They didn’t know my daughter.” That gets a laugh from me, too, because I picture someone telling Lily she wasn’t going to make it, to give up, and I can see her rolling her eyes and just continuing to do whatever she was doing.

“I wanted everything for her, Jack,” her mom says now. “I know I come across as a control freak. I know I judged you unfairly. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I wanted her to have the life she was never supposed to have.”

“Mrs. Drummond,” I start and she shakes her hand. “Sorry, Susan. She’s a miracle to me, too.”

“I know. I do know it, even when it’s not clear. I like my life in order. I like things a certain way, because there were so many times I was told how they were going to be, and I didn’t want to listen. I’ve worked hard to maintain this family – and I just hate losing her. I’m so sorry, Jack. I’ve been awful to you, and it isn’t your fault I can’t keep her how I wanted her. It’s not fair to her that I can’t help wanting to.”

“She gets it,” I tell her. “Lily loves you. She’s stubborn, because you taught her to stand up for herself. She’s kind, because she saw how hard you and your husband worked to be kind to others. She’s perfect, because you made her that way. If anything, I should be grateful, because you are trusting me with her. I promise, I’ll always look out for her.”

“It scares me,” she admits. “I know you’ve had... challenges.”

I nod. “I have. And I won’t lie to you. You were there in the hospital. You know what I am. You know my weaknesses, but I love your daughter more than breathing.”

“Thank you,” she says. Then, as she does, she wipes her eyes, forces a smile, and brushes down her clothes. Within seconds, it’s like the conversation was a dream and she goes to shake my hand.

“Fuck that,” I say and she’s taken aback, but she doesn’t fight me off when I hug her.

K
risten texts me and asks me to stay for dinner, to eat in the cafeteria and catch up with everyone, and I agree because Jack’s busy and I could use extra library time anyway. But sitting in the fluorescent glow of the cafeteria, surrounded by noise and idiocy, I just can’t wait for school to be over. I’m about a month away now, but it’s not even the work that I mind. I just don’t feel like I belong here anymore. I guess it’s funny, because I always felt like I was stunted during my first semester. It took me so much longer to acclimate than it did my peers, but now, they’re still talking about kegs and some guy is making a sculpture from mashed potatoes and a girl and her boyfriend are fighting at the table next to us because he studied with someone else and it all feels stupid. Pointless. I wish I could make a living off discussing the themes of disillusionment in Eliot’s poetry, but I am done with college. I realize it now.

“Hey,” Kristen says, spiking down a wilted salad with some kind of sauce that isn’t really dressing but will have to do. “This sucks.”

“How do you stand it?” I ask her.

“I have headphones. A lot of headphones.”

I feel a little guilty, because Kristen had to get a new roommate and this year was rough for her. The girl she was paired with is a moron, who spends more time hitting on Lyle than doing anything else. Lyle isn’t even the kind of guy girls hit on; Miranda, the roommate, is just a bitch.

“Where’s Lyle?”

“Work.”

Lyle started working early, because he found a job in the city after he finished his internship in the fall, and he’s been trying to balance his last few classes. He takes most of them online now, but it’s been a long semester for Kristen and I wish I were a better friend. I’m so wrapped up in Jack and school and my wedding that I really haven’t been there much for any of the girls.

“Hey, Abby’s right. We should have a girls’ night,” I suggest.

“Bachelorette party,” she teases.

I laugh. “Okay, whatever you want. Let’s have it soon. We all need to have a little fun.”

She nods. “Yeah, but I need to finish student teaching first. That would be my luck. I’d be seen out in public by some kid’s parents while I was dressed like a pirate wench.”

“Why the hell would you be dressed like a pirate wench?”

“I have a thing for pirates.”

“Awesome. Let Lyle know,” I tease.

She blushes, but she’s happy and the plans relieve some of both of our stress. She suggests one of those harbor cruises where everyone basically just gets really drunk and then regrets it, since they’re on a boat, and I agree, because I don’t care. I need this. I need to see Alana and Abby and Kristen and the four of us need to do something completely ridiculous and immature. I feel so alienated from everything, and soon, I need to look for a job, and then who knows where we will all end up. Alana and Abby both still have another year left of school, since Abby traveled and Alana was... Alana. The next few months are going to shake up everything we know and we need them to be memorable.

“Lyle wants me to move in with him,” Kristen says after dinner, as she walks me to my car in the commuter lot. “I told him I didn’t know. I should know, shouldn’t I?”

“Why don’t you know?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she says, laughing. “I mean, we have basically lived together in a sense for four years now, but it’s not the same. I see you and Jack and you’re like my parents and-”

“Whoa. Come on.”

She rolls her eyes. “You really are. You guys just need like matching outfits and his and hers towels. Ooh, shower gift.”

“No. I don’t need matching towels.”

“You guys have it all figured out, though. What if we move in together and suddenly, I realize that he never washes his socks or something?” she asks.

“Um, then you take them when he isn’t looking and throw them in the laundry?”

“You know what I mean.”

I pause and think about living with Jack. It was never even a question. We moved in together and then we kept on doing things just as we had. We eased into most of our routines and all of his quirks seemed to fit with mine, but I don’t remember ever thinking,
I can’t deal with this.
We don’t even argue about decorating.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s easy.”

“Don’t you ever hate him?” she asks.

“No,” I say, without hesitation. “I really don’t.”

“You guys suck.”

“I don’t know. I guess there was this one thing,” I start.

“Oh, Jack isn’t perfect?” she teases.

“He is, but he bought this paper towel holder. It was the dumbest thing ever, because it kept falling down and it didn’t really hold the paper towel and it ended up in the way more than anything, but he had to have it. We don’t have much counter space and every single time I washed the dishes, the entire contraption, with the paper towels, fell in the sink. For like a month, we spent almost a hundred dollars on paper towels, because he would not move the damn thing or let me get rid of it. He just kept saying he had no problem with it and that he liked it. It wasn’t even special. It was some cheap plastic blue thing, but I guess he was proud of it, because he bought it the same weekend I agreed to move in with him, and it’s like he was convinced that if the shitty paper towel holder fell apart, so would we.”

Kristen laughs. “So what did you do?”

I look around, as if Jack can hear me, and smile. “I turned on the garbage disposal once when it fell in the sink and played dumb. I told him I didn’t even realize it had been in the sink. It was a disaster and he dug out what he could salvage, but it was too late. The thing was ruined. And look – we are just fine without it.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Kristen points out.

“Move in with Lyle. You love him. And if he does something weird, just throw it in the garbage disposal.”

I
won’t pretend I’m not excited about the tasting. It’s basically the one wedding plan I wanted to be actively involved in and Lily laughed at me last night when I told her I was having a small dinner, so I had room to try everything. But fuck. How often do you get to sit around and have a chef give you all kinds of specially prepared food?

“You know most of the stuff on the menu is going to be weird, right?” Lily asks on the car ride there.

“It’s free. I’ll eat it.”

“Yeah, I know you’ll eat it, but I’m just saying. We’re probably going to end up with chicken and pasta primavera.”

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

“That’s what
everyone
ends up with. They should probably be nicer to the damn duck and just skip it. No one orders duck.”

As she predicted, there are a lot of weird food items, but there is plenty worth eating. It’s crazy. They have us sit at a table with all this fancy china and silverware, as if we’re not just sitting around on a Sunday afternoon in raggedy ass clothes and snacking on free food. There are three people working for the chef today, and as soon as we’re seated, a waiter in a tuxedo brings over a custom printed menu of everything we are trying. “For your reference, sir,” he says, and then another guy comes over and fills our glasses with water.

“This is too much,” I whisper to Lily. “I feel like someone is messing with me.”

“They’re trying to recreate the right mood and atmosphere,” she says.

“How do you know that?”

“That’s what the articles my mom cut out said.”

We start with sampling wines, but they all taste exactly the same. Like ass. I don’t get the wine thing. I drink plenty, but I don’t like the
taste
of it. I like being drunk and empty. Or used to. Now, I have to sip at wines and nod my head and pretend I give a fuck if we have Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay for a white. We can have Sprite for all I care.

By the time they start on the reds, I call the waiter back. “Is there any way I can get a Coke?” I ask.

“A Coke?” he repeats, as if he has never heard of such a thing.

“You know. Coca-Cola.”

“I see, sir. I will bring you a Coke.” He says Coke like I’m disturbed.

“Are you liking the wines?” I ask Lily when he leaves. Her face is flushed, which is cute, because she hasn’t had much, but she’s getting a little tipsy. We forgot to eat breakfast, and the wine is going to her head. She giggles.

“I love you.”

“Not an answer, princess.”

“I don’t know. We’re getting married, though.” She grins and I forget about the obnoxious waiter and the wines and my Coke, which he’ll probably deliver in a plastic cup with disgust.

“We are.”

After the wines, we start on appetizers, all of which are actually very good. Lily fawns over some fried bananas wrapped in bacon and I choose teriyaki skewers. The chef comes out to talk to us for a bit to ask what themes we are thinking in terms of food. I didn’t know we were supposed to theme our food, but Lily is prepared. She takes out her requisite list and forms and whispers with the chef, while I finish off the appetizer samplers. The chef suggests picking a third appetizer to complete our menu so we agree to some kind of mini spinach quiche, and then he leaves us to go craft some kind of food based on Lily’s forms.