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February 1983....
It’s been an excruciatingly long week, and every part of Carol’s body aches, so she’s spending the laziest of February Saturday nights in her apartment with her girlfriend. She’s got her head rested in Jodi’s lap, while they both watch basketball on TV.
After five straight busy day on base, Carol’d spent the morning looking at houses with Maria—unfortunately, none that they both liked—and now the rest of the weekend was for relaxing and hanging out with Jodi.
The Lakers are losing, and Jodi, a lifelong Lakers fan, is annoyed.
Carol, a Celtics fan and lifelong Lakers hater, is thrilled.
“I’m just saying, Bird wouldn’t let this happen.”
“Jerk.” Jodi puts a pillow over Carol’s face to silence her taunting.
Carol pushes the pillow away, and sticks her tongue out, which earns her a kiss—until another Lakers missed shot and then she almost falls off the couch when Jodi gets up in frustration.
“I’ll get us more beer,” Jodi says, stalking off into the kitchen when it goes to commercial.
It takes a little effort, but Carol sits up on the couch. God is she tired.
“Back on,” she calls out when the game resumes.
“Thanks.” Jodi jogs back in. She puts her arm around Carol as she sits down and hands her the beer. “You still up for that drive tomorrow? You look beat.”
Carol shakes her head. “I don’t think I could drive, or read a map, or even stand.”
“That’s what I figured. We can hang out here.”
“Thank you.” Carol puts her head on Jodi’s shoulder. “Who knew being in the Air Force was so exhausting?”
“And all those post-work bar trips and karaoke nights every week have nothing to do with it?”
“Of course not.”
“While I’m home studying.” Jodi’s in medical school. Her weeks are busier and longer than Carol’s.
Carol turns up her head and kisses the underside of Jodi’s jaw. “Your decision to be so smart.”
They watch the game—it’s still not going well for the Lakers—for a few minutes before a knock at the door.
“Expecting someone?”
Carol shakes her head and pushes herself to stand up. “Who is it?” She asks as she approaches the door.
“Carol.” The voice is so quiet it’s hard to hear. “It’s me. It’s Maria.”
Carol raises an eyebrow at Jodi before opening the door. It’s very clear, right away, that Maria has been crying. “Hey, come in. Come in,” she says, stepping aside. “You OK?” Carol puts a hand on her shoulder. “You hurt?”
“I’m not hurt.” Maria then sees Jodi on the couch. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re busy. I can go.”
Jodi stands up. “Stay. Sit down. It’s nice to finally meet you. Want a beer?”
Maria shakes her head.
“Pizza,” Carol says, her focus entirely on Maria, and her hand still firmly on her shoulder. “We have a few leftover slices. I can reheat them.”
Maria shakes her head again, her eyes starting to well up. “I’m not … hungry. Really … I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll leave.” She tries to move to the door, but Carol grabs her hand.
“Hey… Do I need to kick someone’s ass? Tell me who, and I’ll kick his ass.”
Maria wipes her eyes, and looks at Carol, who absolutely looks ready to go fight someone. She wants to get herself together, calm Carol down, but cries harder. “I’m overreacting. It’s fine. We’ll talk on Monday.”
“It’s okay, stay as long as you want.” Carol hugs Maria as she cries. “I won’t ask any more questions. We can just sit.”
“I’m gonna go,” Jodi says. Maria makes a noise in protest—she did not want to ruin Carol’s night, coming here was a bad idea—but Jodi continues. “I was on my way out anyway. We were watching the game, but it’s over now.”
Carol looks over Maria’s shoulder at Jodi and mouths, “Sorry.”
Maria pulls away from Carol and turns to Jodi. “This isn’t how I wanted us to meet.”
“We will catch up another time. All good. I’m gonna grab my stuff.”
“I’ll help you,” Carol says, then turns to Maria. “Please, sit. I’ll be right back.”
Carol follows Jodi into her bedroom and shuts the door. “You don’t have to leave.”
“Something is clearly very wrong. She’s not going to talk about it in front of me.”
Carol sighs. “I don’t know if I can help—”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jodi interrupts, squeezing Carol’s hand. “She came here. She needs you. You can help her.”
“Thanks.” Carol leans in for a kiss. “I wish I could walk you to your car.”
“Me too.” Jodi puts on her coat, and picks up her purse and backpack. “Call me in the morning?”
“Of course.” Carol kisses her again.
Maria’s sitting on the couch with her head down, her coat still on and her purse in her lap, when Jodi leaves. Carol stands by the door, watching her for a moment. She doesn’t know what’s wrong, doesn’t know what to do, but it hurts to see Maria so upset.
She sits down next to Maria—close, but careful not to crowd—and turns off the TV. They sit in silence for several minutes. If Maria doesn’t want to talk, Carol’s not going to make her.
“I’m pregnant,” Maria says, finally.
“Oh.” Carol wasn’t expecting that.
“I took three tests. All different brands.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s fine.”
“Can I stay here tonight?”
“Of course.”
Maria sets her purse on the floor and shrugs off her coat. “You still have that pizza?”
“Absolutely. And soda and ice cream and popcorn. Whatever you want. If I don’t have it, I’ll go get it.”
“Pizza and soda is good for now.”
“Coming right up.” Carol stands, then sits back down, and looks Maria directly in the eyes. “I’m not gonna talk about it. But I want to say—I’m here. I will be here.”
Maria starts to cry again. “Thank you.”
Carol hands her a box of tissues. “If you wanna go grab some clothes from my room … I’ve got sweatpants, or pajamas, whatever of mine you want to wear.” She stands up. “I’ll go get the soda and put the pizza in the oven.”
Carol tosses three slices in the oven and then opens the refrigerator. Fuck. She only has enough Coke for one glass, and nothing else other than beer. Good job, Danvers. She opens up a cabinet. Why doesn’t she have more food? She pulls a box of chocolate chip cookies down, just in case Maria wants them.
This feels like a moment for a grown up and she is not a grown up.
But she will be there for Maria, whatever she needs, always.
Carol arrives at Jodi’s apartment the next night with beer and flowers. “For you,” she says as she enters, and hugs Jodi.
Jodi pulls away. “Carol, we need to talk.”
“Oh God. Jodi.” Carol puts everything down on the table by the door. “Sorry about last night … but … you said for her to stay … but … I shouldn’t have … I’ll make it up to you.”
“No, I’m not mad, especially about that. Your friend needed you and you were right to be there for her.”
“Then … what’s wrong?” Carol is very confused.
“Come in. Come inside.” Jodi takes Carol’s hand and leads her into the living room. “Before, I’d only heard about Maria. But then yesterday … I saw you with her.”
“Okay…?”
“I thought, from the way you talked about her, that maybe you had a little crush.”
“What?” Shit.
“But … you’re in love with her.”
Carol forces out a laugh. “No, I’m not.” She has to fix this. “She was upset!”
“I think … I think you are.”
“No.” Carol hesitates, then says, weakly, “Maria’s straight.” Jodi raises an eyebrow. “And … that was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Carol sits down, and puts her head in her hands. “Please don’t break up with me.”
“Carol.”
“I really like you.”
“I know you do.” Jodi sits next to Carol and rubs her lower back. “I really like you, too. But—”
“Let me show you.” Carol puts a hand on Jodi’s knee. “If you still want to break up with me in the morning, that’s fine.” She moves her other hand to Jodi’s cheek. “Please.”
Jodi nods and Carol kisses her.
Carol’s got to be on base by 6 a.m., so they’re both awake in Jodi’s bed, having already had a very long talk, well before sunrise.
Carol’s head is on Jodi’s chest, and she’s tracing circles on her stomach.
“Sorry you had to wake up so early just to break up with me. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m fine.” Jodi leans down to kiss the top of her head. “You don’t have to do anything too dangerous today, do you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Is it … was I that obvious?”
“Pretty obvious.”
“You two should come over for dinner this weekend,” Maria says, her voice low, at lunch on Tuesday. Carol’s been a little distracted, or busy with work, so they haven’t been able to talk much outside of making plans for Carol to go with Maria to the doctor next week. Maria wants to make up for crashing her evening with Jodi.
Carol shakes her head. “We broke up.”
“What? Why? Not because I stopped by—”
“No. No. There was … someone else.”
“Oh my God. That jerk.”
Carol doesn’t clarify.
A few months later…
“You know,” Carol says, gesturing to the overflowing cart she is pushing down the department store baby aisle, “you would get all these things at a baby shower.”
“I’m not changing my mind.”
“I still don’t get it! Your mom wants to throw you one. Let people buy you things.”
“I don’t need anything from anyone, and I don’t want to sit around and make small talk with a lot of people, many of whom I only barely tolerate.”
Carol sighs.
Maria puts one last bottle in the cart. “That’s it for the baby stuff. We need some dish soap and paper towels before we leave.”
“Off we go.”
On the way to the cleaning aisle, Carol stops in front of a large hat display. She puts a red floppy hat on her own head, and picks up a blue one.
“Danvers. Don’t. You. Dare.”
Carol reconsiders and puts the second hat on her head as well. “Of course not.” But then, she picks up a nearby multicolored, ugly scarf and tosses that around Maria’s neck. “Looking good, Rambeau.” She pulls them both in front of a mirror, grinning.
“My face is like ten sizes too big.”
Carol shakes her head. “Stop that. Pregnancy glow suits you.”
“Maybe. But this scarf definitely does not.” She puts it back where it belongs. “You should get the hats though.”
“Yeah they definitely looked good on me.” Carol laughs as she puts them back, then goes to the mirror to fix her hair.
“Oh come on, Danvers,” Maria says when Carol, who can be quite vain, takes too long. “We’ll be home in fifteen minutes.”
Carol doesn’t answer. She’s staring into the mirror, not even fixing her hair anymore.
“Carol, come on.”
Carol turns around, to look at what she saw in the mirror—or rather, who.
Maria turns as well.
It’s Carol’s ex-girlfriend, Jodi, alone and putting a box of tea bags into her cart.
Carol pushes the cart closer. “Hey,” she says, low, and Jodi looks up.
“Oh … hi.”
Carol turns to Maria. “Give us a minute, please?”
“You sure?” Maria’s not so subtly glaring at Jodi.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll get the stuff and meet you at checkout.”
“Alright.” Maria walks away without saying anything to Jodi.
“You look … so great,” Carol says, her voice still hushed, once it’s just the two of them.
“You too.” Jodi gestures to the cart. “So, when’s the wedding?”
“It’s not like that. I’m just helping,” Carol pleads. “She can’t carry all this. We’re just friends.”
“Yeah. I heard you've been going home from the bar with a different girl every week,” Jodi says, referring to the (not Pancho’s) bar where she and Carol first met. “I figured you hadn’t told her yet.”
“There’s nothing to tell her. It was just a crush and I’m over it.” Carol continues quickly, pushing forward before Jodi can say anything. “I’m really glad I saw you today. I’ve been wanting to call you.”
“Car—”
“Let’s give this another try, please.”
Jodi sighs, but doesn’t respond.
“I still really like you. I’m over her.”
Jodi shakes her head.
Carol can feel a few tears build up, but she keeps them in. “This isn’t fair.”
“You live together, right?”
“For now, not for forever.”
“Why—” Jodi pauses when a man stops his cart to pick up a box, only continuing when he leaves and they are alone again. “Why was she glaring at me?”
“She … she thinks you cheated on me.”
“Gee thanks.”
Carol shrugs weakly. “Please. I want to be with you.”
“Carol, listen, I’m sorry to have to do this again and,” Jodi gestures around them, “do it here… but no. I care about you, but I can’t do this.”
Carol gets the dish soap and paper towels, and finds Maria near the checkout reading a magazine.
“Are you OK?” Maria asks.
“Let’s just go.”
Carol doesn’t talk the whole way home.
A few months later …
“Hey,” Maria says, knocking on the half open door, but not looking inside. “Can I come in?”
“Uh, one second,” Carol says, hastily throwing a few more pieces of tape on a long, thin box, and shoving it under the bed. “OK, now you can come in.”
Maria enters, holding a square wrapped box, and shuts the door behind her. She sits down near the end of the bed. “Thanks again for helping me set everything up. Though I think maybe ‘Santa’ overdid it with presents for Monica. She’s not even going to remember this Christmas.”
“But we’ll remember it. It's her first Christmas.” Carol says, sliding a bit closer. She points to the box. “You got something for me?”
“Not wasting any time, huh?”
“Not exactly known for my patience. But isn’t it a bit early for a present?”
“I wanted to do this without … everyone else,” Maria says. Her parents are in town—currently sleeping in Monica’s room with Monica back in Maria’s room for the next few days—and Carol’s latest girlfriend, Sandra, will be joining them for presents and Christmas dinner.
Maria hands Carol the box. “Before you open it, I just want to say, thanks for everything this year. And not just for helping me when I was pregnant and helping with Monica. But for all the fun non kid stuff and work stuff and,” she stops and shrugs. “Thank you and merry Christmas.”
Carol blinks back a few tears. “So sappy, Rambeau.”
“Open it!”
“Hang on.” Carol reaches under the bed and pulls out the box she finished wrapping moments earlier. “This is for you. Since we’re doing this now. I’m not gonna make a big speech or anything…”
“Carol,” Maria says, taking the box. It’s clearly jewelry. “You didn’t have to.”
Carol waves a hand. “Let’s open at the same time?”
They grin at each other and then tear open the presents. Carol gets hers open first, so Maria stops to watch her look inside the box.
“Shit, Maria.” Carol takes a simple, understated watch with a leather band out and holds it up. She flips it over and sees it’s engraved with her initials, CD. “This is so fancy.”
“And I had it even before your watch broke. Sorry I couldn’t fit all four of your names on it.”
Carol sticks out her tongue. “Really, this is so nice. Thank you.” She puts it on and stretches out her left arm to admire it.
“Putting it on right before bed?”
“I’m never taking it off.” She looks at Maria. “Hey, you stopped opening yours. Open it!”
Maria turns her attention back to her present and opens the box. Inside is a gold nameplate necklace with Monica’s name.
Carol winces. “Is it your style? You like it?”
It’s really not Maria’s style. “I love it.”
Carol taps her fist on the bed. “See, I knew it. Sandra wanted me to get something else, but I knew this was it.” She pauses. “It’s not weird I got you Monica’s name, right?”
The style might not be Maria’s, but the sentiment definitely is. “My daughter’s name right over my heart? It’s beautiful, Carol. Thank you.” She hands Carol the necklace and turns around. “Can you put it on for me, please?”
Carol takes a deep breath and clips the necklace on. “There you go.” She pulls her hands back quickly. “Beautiful,” she says, low, when Maria faces her again.
They sit smiling at each other for a moment, but then Carol looks at her wrist. “I can see from my very fancy new watch that it’s way past bedtime and tomorrow’s a big day.”
“Yeah,” Maria says, but doesn’t move to leave. Instead, she closes her eyes and flops down on the bed, her legs hanging off the side. “What a year it’s been, huh?”
“That’s one way to put it.” Carol laughs and lays down on her side, facing Maria. “You OK?” She slides closer, just a little bit.
“Yeah. … No. …. I’m afraid of waking Monica when I go into my room. I can’t do another sleepless night. There’s so much to do in the morning.”
“So stay here.” Maria starts to protest, but Carol cuts her off. “You’re already on the bed, in your pajamas, with your eyes closed. All that’s left is to fall asleep. There’s plenty of room.”
“I shouldn’t leave her.”
“I’ll go get the baby monitor out of the living room. We’ll leave my door open. It’ll be fine.” Carol stands up. “She sleeps in her own room usually. This is just like that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Get some sleep. My present to you.”
Carol gets the baby monitor, brushes her teeth, and grabs a glass of water. When she walks back in her room, Maria’s asleep, curled up at the foot of the bed.
“You could’ve…” Carol says, mostly to herself, pointing to the pillows at the top of the bed. She takes one and slides it under Maria’s head, and then picks up an extra blanket and covers Maria with it.
“I guess I’ll just sleep this way.” Carol takes her pillow and moving it so she can curl up at the top of the bed. With some effort, she twists herself underneath her blankets. “Nice and comfy,” she says.
Carol’s almost done making breakfast—pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, the works—when Maria wakes up and joins her in the kitchen.
“Merry Christmas,” Carol says brightly. “I was beginning to think I was going to be eating all by myself! How late do your parents sleep?”
“Late. Merry Christmas.” Maria accepts the coffee mug that Carol hands her. “Aren’t you a little warm?”
Carol, who is wearing a long sleeve Christmas sweater, points to her shorts and bare feet. “Trying to have it both ways. Dunno I’ll ever get used to it not being really cold on Christmas morning.”
“Can you believe Monica’s still sleeping?”
“Christmas miracle! You made the right call last night. Sleep OK?”
“Yeah, thanks again,” Maria says. “You could’ve woken me up. Need any help?”
“Got it all under control. And yeah, didn’t want to disturb you. You were having a full on conversation.”
“Oh no.” Maria sits down at the kitchen table.
“You talk in your sleep?!”
“So what if I do? You snore.”
“Do not!”
“Yes, you do.”
“No!” Carol stops cooking and puts her hands on her hips. “Really?”
“Do you really not know?” Maria laughs. “Has no one ever told you?”
“No?”
“Girl, sorry to be the one to break it to you. It’s quiet, but it’s a definite, annoying snore.”
“Maybe it was just last night?” Maria shakes her head and Carol grimaces. “Well, thanks for telling me. That explains … some things.”
“One more gift.” Carol’s got a long rectangle box in her hands, wrapped in the same paper that the necklace was wrapped in.
They’re almost done opening presents as dinner cooks, and the room is littered with empty boxes and wrapping paper. Carol, and Maria’s parents, really did not restrain themselves with gifts for Monica’s first Christmas.
“But—,” Maria says, as Carol puts the box in her lap.
“It’s from Monica.” Carol sits back down on the couch and puts her arm around Sandra.
“From Monica,” Evelyn repeats quietly, as George bounces the baby on his knee.
Maria takes a deep breath, feeling a little on display now with all four of them watching her closely. “Is this from all of you?”
“It’s. From. Monica,” Carol repeats. Evelyn shakes her head, indicating she and her husband had no part in this. “I may have picked it up and wrapped it for her—” She makes a face at Monica. “We’re going to need to work on the division of labor around here Lieutenant Trouble—but she told me what to get.”
Inside the box is a bottle of wine, earplugs, a sleep mask, a spa gift certificate, and a handmade coupon for a full day of babysitting courtesy of Carol.
“Thank you Monica,” Maria says. She wipes away a tear as she crosses the room to pick up her daughter and cover her face with kisses. “What a great Christmas gift.”
“Monica, say thank you to Carol.” Maria walks over to Carol and lowers the baby to kiss her cheek. Carol makes a funny face back at Monica who giggles.
When Maria turns to go back to her seat, Sandra says to Carol, low but loud enough for everyone to hear, “See I told you that was a better gift for a new mom.”
Carol doesn’t react at all.
“I love all the gifts, truly.” Maria sits back down and smiles at Carol. “This has been a wonderful day. Thank you, everyone.”
Carol smiles back.
“Soooo….,” Evelyn says, later that night, once Monica is asleep and Carol has gone back to Sandra’s. “Carol’s girlfriend…..”
“Yeah…” Maria matches her mother’s grimace.
“I thought maybe it was just me that didn’t like her.”
Sandra’s comments had continued through dinner and dessert, and most distressingly to Maria, Carol had continued not to even seem to notice. It wasn’t the first time Maria had bristled at Sandra’s words—she’d been over for dinner a few times—but until her mother said something, she had thought maybe she was overreacting.
“Not just you. Does Carol know she can do better?”
“She had a girlfriend cheat on her earlier this year, and I don’t know that she’s gotten over it.”
“Poor thing.”
Carol comes home at 1 a.m., while Maria’s in the kitchen doing the last of the dishes from the day.
“Hey, I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow night?”
Carol ignores Maria’s question as she drops her jacket, bag, and a gift box onto a chair. “I thought you didn’t want to do these tonight? Didn’t mean to leave you with chores.”
“I was going to wait until the morning, but then I had a coffee late and now I can’t sleep.”
Carol picks up a towel and settles next to Maria at the sink, ready to do the drying. Maria hands her a bowl and they finish the dishes in silence. Maria can tell Carol is upset, but it’s clear she isn’t ready to talk about it and Maria won’t force it.
“Should we have a beer?” Maria asks when they’re done.
Carol nods and sits down in the chair next to her stuff. Maria grabs two bottles and sits on the opposite side of the table. She pops the first one open and slides it over to Carol before starting on her own.
“So uh,” Carol says after a long moment of silence. “Sandra kind of stinks, doesn’t she?”
Maria doesn’t respond.
“You’re a good friend. But you can tell me.”
“Carol, I’m going to stay out of this.”
“Yeah.” Carol takes a few long sips of her beer. “That tells me all I need to know I think.”
“What happened?”
Carol sighs and puts the gift box on the table between them. “She gave me that as my Christmas gift.” She stands up. “You want another?”
Maria shakes her head. “What was the problem?”
“Open it.”
Carol leans up against the refrigerator, drinking another beer, and watches Maria open the box, almost like she can’t stand to be near the present. Inside is a small multicolored patchwork leather jacket and a pair of big gold earrings. It’s all ugly, that’s for sure, but mainly it’s not at all Carol.
“It’s not a great gift, but—” Maria offers.
“It’s not my style.” Carol sits down. “And I don’t even have my ears pierced.”
“Some people are bad at giving gifts.”
“I get that. I do.” Carol shakes her head. “Listen, I’m still not even sure the necklace I gave you is your style, and I think I know you pretty well.” She puts up a hand when Maria tries to respond. “But she knew this wasn’t me. She said she got this—” Carol holds up a sleeve with much disdain. “Because she wanted me to have a nicer jacket.”
Maria can’t bite back her sigh.
“Yeah. And she already made an appointment to get my ears pierced on Tuesday.”
“Yikes. What did you say?”
“Nothing. Waited like an hour and told her I had a migraine coming on and had to leave before it got too strong.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The whole way home I just replayed so many other things she’s done and said in my head. How did I not see it?”
“You were trying to be happy. Nothing wrong with that.”
“She was such a jerk about your presents!”
“Don’t beat yourself up.”
Carol shrugs. “Worst part is I gave her those concert tickets as her Christmas gift, so now I’m not even gonna get to go.”
“So you’re breaking up with her?”
“Yeah.”
“I know it’s been a tough year, after what happened with … her.” Maria reaches across the table and puts her right hand on top of Carol’s left. Carol flinches for a second, but then keeps her hand there and looks up at Maria. “Maybe you need a little break from dating.”
Carol hadn’t exactly been alone much since breaking up with Jodi at the beginning of the year.
“This isn’t about—” Carol stops herself, and shakes her head. “Maybe it is. Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” Maria says with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
Carol lets out a small laugh. “That’s true.” She drains the last of her beer. “I’m gonna go to bed. You need to sleep in my room again?”
“Nah, I’m good. I can sneak into mine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, but thanks.”
“Anytime, Rambeau.” Carol stands up. “Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t. Goodnight, Danvers. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
Epilogue
A few years later …
From everything Carol’s ever had said about her parents—and it hasn’t been much—Maria really shouldn’t be surprised they are acting this way. But she’s surprised. It’s fifteen minutes before Carol’s memorial service, and they are arguing with her about Carol’s will, and who gets her things and money.
“We don’t even know you,” Carol’s father says.
It’s mostly the money they are concerned about, Maria knows. Carol’s life insurance payout. And maybe her car. Maria doesn’t care at all about the money. She wants Carol’s things, her jacket, her band t-shirts, her car (but not to sell it), that dumb bandana she always wore.
Maria doesn’t want the money.
But she knows that Carol didn’t want her parents to have it, and that’s enough for Maria.
“Mr. Danvers, I’m respecting Carol’s wishes. That’s all I’ve been doing for the past few weeks.”
Including planning this memorial service, not that they’ve mentioned that.
Carol’s father sighs, a bit loudly, and a few people turn to look.
Monica, who had been sitting quietly next to Maria when they approached, gets out of her seat and starts tugging at Maria’s hand.
“Wanna go home,” Monica whines. “Let’s go home.”
“We’ll go home soon, baby, but we gotta stay a little longer.”
Monica groans and flops down across several chairs, Carol’s jacket all but covering her entirely.
“Everything shouldn’t be going to you,” Carol’s mother says, watching Monica. “We’re her family.”
We're her family. Maria takes a deep breath to keep her anger from spilling out. Not you.
“Mommyyyyyyyy.”
“Hey Mon.” Maria is relieved to hear the friendly voice of Tara, Monica’s babysitter, who’s just arrived with her parents. They’d been about to sit in the second row behind them, and clearly had heard at least some of this uncomfortable conversation. “I can take her outside for some fresh air for a few minutes?” Tara says to Maria.
“Would you mind? Yes, please. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Tara walks around the chairs, ignores Carol’s parents, and hugs Maria. “You OK?” She asks, quietly.
Maria nods and smiles. At some point, Tara became part of the family, and she’s so grateful for this 19-year-old kid in this moment. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Hey Mon.” Tara kneels down in front of the chairs. “I saw some butterflies outside, but I don’t know which kind. Do you want to teach me?”
Monica peeks out from under the jacket. “Mommy, can I?”
“Yeah, baby. Go outside with Tara, it’s OK.”
Carol’s parents don’t even wait for Monica to leave to start again, but Maria puts up her hand.
“Mr. and Mrs. Danvers. First of all, I’m very sorry for your loss. I know how hard this is.”
“She’s our daughter.”
“And she’s my best friend. She was there when I had my baby. She’s her godmother. I am grieving, too.” She's the love of my life.
“That doesn’t mean—”
“Carol made that will a long time ago. Updated it every year. This is what she wanted. I’m going to respect that.”
“We’ll call our lawyer.”
“Please do. I’ll give you the number for Carol’s lawyer.”
Carol’s parents don’t respond.
“Was there anything else?”
They turn to leave, but a voice Maria doesn’t recognize stops them. “Mr. and Mrs. Danvers.”
They all turn to look at the voice, and Maria realizes it’s Jodi, Carol’s ex-girlfriend from a very long time ago. Her long black hair is now a bit shorter, but it’s definitely her.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Jodi says to them, extending her hand. Carol’s father takes it first. “I was a friend of Carol’s.” She makes eye contact with both of them. “A good friend.” Maria’s mother quickly drops Jodi’s hand.
Maria almost smiles. She can see why Carol liked her.
When they walk to the other side of the room, Jodi turns to Maria. “Are you OK?”
Maria nods. “I am now. That was pretty good.”
“You’re the one who was good. I heard a lot of that conversation. They’re just as awful as I’d imagined them.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Yeah, I remember. Hi, Jodi. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?”
Maria shrugs.
“You know I never did what she told you I did, right?” Jodi asks.
Maria smiles, and nods. “She told me.”
“Good. I didn’t want to have to still kick her ass.”
Maria doesn’t quite laugh, but it gets a smile.
“I ran into her a few months ago.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“We were both waiting for pizza. She had a photo of her and Monica at Halloween. That’s one cute kid.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sure you know this, but she was happy, really happy.” She takes a card-shaped envelope out of her jacket. “For you. There was a collection at the bar. Carol hadn’t been in in awhile, but she’s family.”
“Oh, I can’t—”
“Please. Do something nice for your daughter with it.”
Maria relents. “Okay. Thank you. Thank everyone for me, please.” She puts the card in her purse.
“Alright, if they bother you again, and you need help, just give me a look and I’ll slash their tires.”
Now Maria laughs.
“I can make it look like an accident.”
“Thanks, good to know.”
“Of course.”
Maria’s parents come in from outside—they’d been sorting out an issue with the flowers—after Jodi leaves, and Maria fills them in on her run in with Mr. and Mrs. Danvers.
“If they come over here again,” George says, anger simmering, “I will punch him.”
“Thanks, Dad. And I think there will be a line. With me at the front.”
“Mommy!” Monica’s voice bellows from the back of the room before Tara quiets her down. She’s whispering by the time she gets back to Maria. “We saw four butterflies outside!”
“How fun!” Monica climbs into Maria’s lap, and Maria kisses her forehead. “Thank you,” she says to Tara.
“Anytime.” Tara flashes her eyes in the direction of Carol’s parents and then back to Maria. “Everything all right?”
Maria rolls her eyes and shrugs.
“There were two monarch butterflies.” Monica rests her head on Maria’s shoulder. “Auntie Carol’s favorite.”
Maria, who had been holding it together, lets tears fall for the first time that day. Her mother hands her a tissue and rubs her back.
As she wipes her eyes, Maria spots Carol’s mother watching her and Monica.
When Maria makes eye contact, Carol’s mother looks away.