For once, Claire felt like the stronger sister. “I know love is real. It’s in every moment I share with Ali and Dad. Maybe if . . . you’d had a father, you’d be able to believe in it. ” Claire saw the way her sister went pale; she knew she’d gone too far.
“You were lucky to have Sam,” Meg said slowly.
Claire couldn’t help thinking about the summer Dad had tried to be there for Meg. It had been a nightmare. Meg and Sam had had screaming fights about who loved Claire more, who knew what was best for her. It had been Claire herself who’d ended the worst of the battles. She’d cried out to Meg, Quit yelling at my daddy. That was the first time she’d seen her sister cry. The next day, Meg had gone. Years later, she’d finally called Claire. By then, Meg was in college and had her own life.
“He wanted to be there for you, too,” Claire said gently.
“He wasn’t my father. ”
They fell silent after that. The quiet bothered Claire, compelled her to stack up words between them, but she didn’t know what to say.
She was saved by the phone. When it rang, she jumped up and ran inside the house to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hold for Eliana Sullivan, please. ”
Claire heard Meg come up behind her. She mouthed: Mama.
“This should be good,” Meg said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Hello?” Mama said. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mama, it’s me, Claire. ”
Mama laughed, that throaty, carefully sexy sound she’d cultivated over the years. “I believe I know which of my own daughters I called, Claire. ”
“Of course,” Claire answered, although Mama confused the two of them all the time. Her memories were completely interchangeable. When called on it, Mama would say airily, Whatever; y’all were thick as thieves back then. How’m I supposed to keep every little detail straight?
“Well, honey, speak up. M’houseboy said you left me a message. What’s goin’ on?”
Claire hated the faux Southern accent. Every elongated vowel reminded her that she was ultimately “the audience” to Mama. “I called to tell you I’m getting married. ”
“Well, I’ll be damned. I thought for sure you were going to die an old maid. ”
“Thanks, Mama. ”
“So, who is he?”
“You’ll love him, Mama. He’s a nice Texas boy. ”
“Boy? I thought that was your sister’s way. ”
Claire actually laughed. “He’s a man, Mama. Thirty-seven years old. ”
“How much money does he make?”
“That isn’t important to me. ”
“Broke, huh? Well, I’ll give you my best advice, honey. It’s easier to marry the rich ones, but what the hell. Congratulations. When’s the wedding?”
“Saturday the twenty-third. ”
“Of June? You mean this comin’ Saturday?”
“That’s what I mean. You would have had plenty of notice if you’d called me back. ”
“I was doing Shakespeare in the park. With Charlie Sheen, I might add. ”