“Louisa.” I know what Louisa is hinting at. I’d seen enough pictures to know that my mother looked just like me before she let herself go. And by letting herself go I mean pretty much the same path I’m headed down now, where nothing matters except where your next drink comes from. Christ, is this dinner going to become a wakeup call? Am I in an intervention? I look at everyone at the table, who seems to be engaging in their meal and decide I’m being paranoid.
“How is your mother?” she asks. “Still with that man? What was his name? Fred?”
“Frank,” Devin and I say simultaneously. Devin clears his throat and says politely. “She’s deceased, Mrs.…Louisa.”
Louisa says. “Oh my, I had no idea. How did she…?”
“Food poisoning,” I tell her. It had been exactly that, though it probably wouldn’t have killed her so fast had she not been dehydrated to begin with. Alcoholism…the Parker family’s leading killer.
“Oh, how terrible,” Louisa says, though Devin and I think our parents’ passing is really anything but terrible. I personally can’t imagine two more deserving people. “You two come by my house anytime, do you understand? I want you two over every week unless you’re dying on the side of the road.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say, casting a smile and glancing at Justin, who looks completely flabbergasted and not half as amused as I happen to be by his mother’s antics. I think he’s embarrassed, yet Louisa is the kind of mother I would be proud to call my own. People don’t seem to realize that while everyone finds their parents embarrassing, it’s much better than finding them revolting or glad they’re dead.
*
I stand on the porch smoking and Justin is sitting outside keeping me company. Devin is inside talking to Louisa about how she makes her tomato sauce and I realize he has found a second home even before we are completely moved in to ours. “What are you thinking about?” I hear Justin say.
“Me?” I ask, which is silly since no one else is here. “I’m debating whether if I completely vomited out that meal if it’d be worth it to start eating that much all over again.”
He laughs. “Ma can really overdo it,” he says. “I’m sorry she asked about…your mom.”
I shrug. “No reason to be sorry. Both of my parents drank themselves to death and I can’t say I’m too upset about it.” When she checked into the hospital, they found her blood alcohol level to be on par with someone who had been seeped into formaldehyde.
“What about Frank?” Justin asks. “Your stepfather?”
I think about Frank. Poor Frank. “Heart attack two years ago,” I tell Justin. “He was a good guy.” I look at him and see he’s staring. “I don’t really like to talk about family, so let’s not, okay?”
Justin nods, satiated for now. “I’m…glad you’re back in town, Jenna. I missed having friends around here.”
I smile and I’m charmed by his confession. “It’s good to know we have a friend…and family. Your home is wonderful. Your parents are wonderful. You’re lucky, Justin,” I say. I feel a bit sad for saying it, though, and he can tell.
“I hope you come to realize that it’s your family,” he tells me. “Seriously, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, you just come by or call or whatever.”
I nod. “Sounds good.” We are interrupted by Devin coming outside. He takes my cigarette out of my hand and takes a drag and tosses it far away into the street. “I wasn’t finished,” I say.
“Time to cut back,” he says. “Say your goodbyes,” he tells me. “I’m exhausted and Louisa wants to say goodnight to you.”
“Okay…” I say, reluctant to leave the cool night air and go back inside to where I’m reminded of more food. But Devin is right, and I’m exhausted as well. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk into the kitchen and Louisa is packing up leftovers into Tupperware containers. She smiles when she sees me come in. “I’m packing this for you so you have something to eat until you settle in. I hear you don’t drive so if you want I can take you grocery shopping if Devin is at work and you need food.”
“That’d be nice,” I say. She is so nice to me, and I feel a lump in my throat just looking at someone who is actually a mother. Not someone who gave birth and had to tolerate children who are merely related to her, but someone who took the time to nurture and love her child and make sure they were equipped to survive.