sure. She made some comments last Christmas—I don’t even think she knew I could hear—saying things like same-sex marriage is a travesty, a parody of the real thing. I don’t know. She might have been just talking to talk, though, you know? Trying to say what she thinks people want to hear.”
“She does that. She might not have really meant it,” I said, though my heart was breaking a little. I’d never heard Jill sound so nervous before. This must really mean a lot to her.
“I want to ask you a favor.”
“What kind of a favor?”
“I want you to feel her out about the issue. Try to find out what she actually thinks.”
I groaned.
“It doesn’t have to be right away. We’ve got time.”
“Jill—”
“You’re the one on her good side, so you—”
“I am not on her good side! Everything I do is wrong as far as she’s concerned!”
“Karina, please. You’re the only one who has a chance at this.”
She was right. And it wasn’t like I’d have trouble bringing up the subject since my love life and marriage were my mother’s two favorite topics when she spoke to me. “All right. I’ll try to see if I can get it to come up in conversation in a couple of weeks. I’ll have to be super casual about it or she’s going to guess.”
“Crap. I know. It’s just that if we’re going to go through with it, I need to know how she feels.”
“Look, if you’re going to marry Pauline, you have to do it for you and her, not Mom. Aren’t you the one who not five minutes ago told me to ignore her?”
“I guess. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a trainee server to deal with.”
“Okay. Bye.” I hung up knowing I had chickened out by not telling her about Renault, but she had other things to worry about. I didn’t want to be the basket-case sibling. That was Troy’s job. I would have to figure out what to do about Renault on my own.
After what she’d said, I was dreading the inevitable call from my mother.
While walking home after my shift, my cell phone rang and I picked it up. The weather had turned chilly again, and I held the phone to my ear inside the hood of my sweatshirt.
“Your sister’s worried about you,” my mother said, which was her way of saying she was worried, but my mother wasn’t very good about expressing anything directly except disappointment.
“That’s funny. I just talked to Jill and everything was fine,” I said. “What’s happened to me since then?”
“I don’t appreciate your jokes.” My mother sniffed. “Save them for your fabulous career as a sitcom writer.” That was just like my mother: to tell me not to use sarcasm and then turn around and use it herself. “She said there’s a lot you’re not telling her.”
“Oh, really? Like what? Enlighten me.” I stopped at a crosswalk and jogged in place a little bit to keep warm. The sun was already getting low in the sky and the streets were full of evening commuters.
“She said you didn’t say a word about your thesis.”
“She didn’t ask.”
“Well, I’m asking.”
“Mother, what am I supposed to say? It’s in my advisor’s hands currently. He’s had it for weeks. There’s really nothing to do until he gives me feedback on it.” All of which was true, I thought.
She made a disgruntled noise and changed the topic. “So you can call your sister but not me? You must have loads of time if you’re not working on that dissertation anymore.”
I didn’t even want to dignify that one with an answer. She was baiting me and looking for an excuse to scold me over something. “Jill only calls me when she needs something,” I said.
My mother brushed that aside. “Have you heard from Brad lately? I got a birthday card from him.” She sounded unbearably smug.
“No, Mom, I haven’t heard from Brad. I dumped him six months ago, remember?” I crossed the street with the crowd and then walked along the edge of the park.
“Well, I don’t see why. He’s perfectly nice, polite, a
“She does that. She might not have really meant it,” I said, though my heart was breaking a little. I’d never heard Jill sound so nervous before. This must really mean a lot to her.
“I want to ask you a favor.”
“What kind of a favor?”
“I want you to feel her out about the issue. Try to find out what she actually thinks.”
I groaned.
“It doesn’t have to be right away. We’ve got time.”
“Jill—”
“You’re the one on her good side, so you—”
“I am not on her good side! Everything I do is wrong as far as she’s concerned!”
“Karina, please. You’re the only one who has a chance at this.”
She was right. And it wasn’t like I’d have trouble bringing up the subject since my love life and marriage were my mother’s two favorite topics when she spoke to me. “All right. I’ll try to see if I can get it to come up in conversation in a couple of weeks. I’ll have to be super casual about it or she’s going to guess.”
“Crap. I know. It’s just that if we’re going to go through with it, I need to know how she feels.”
“Look, if you’re going to marry Pauline, you have to do it for you and her, not Mom. Aren’t you the one who not five minutes ago told me to ignore her?”
“I guess. Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a trainee server to deal with.”
“Okay. Bye.” I hung up knowing I had chickened out by not telling her about Renault, but she had other things to worry about. I didn’t want to be the basket-case sibling. That was Troy’s job. I would have to figure out what to do about Renault on my own.
After what she’d said, I was dreading the inevitable call from my mother.
While walking home after my shift, my cell phone rang and I picked it up. The weather had turned chilly again, and I held the phone to my ear inside the hood of my sweatshirt.
“Your sister’s worried about you,” my mother said, which was her way of saying she was worried, but my mother wasn’t very good about expressing anything directly except disappointment.
“That’s funny. I just talked to Jill and everything was fine,” I said. “What’s happened to me since then?”
“I don’t appreciate your jokes.” My mother sniffed. “Save them for your fabulous career as a sitcom writer.” That was just like my mother: to tell me not to use sarcasm and then turn around and use it herself. “She said there’s a lot you’re not telling her.”
“Oh, really? Like what? Enlighten me.” I stopped at a crosswalk and jogged in place a little bit to keep warm. The sun was already getting low in the sky and the streets were full of evening commuters.
“She said you didn’t say a word about your thesis.”
“She didn’t ask.”
“Well, I’m asking.”
“Mother, what am I supposed to say? It’s in my advisor’s hands currently. He’s had it for weeks. There’s really nothing to do until he gives me feedback on it.” All of which was true, I thought.
She made a disgruntled noise and changed the topic. “So you can call your sister but not me? You must have loads of time if you’re not working on that dissertation anymore.”
I didn’t even want to dignify that one with an answer. She was baiting me and looking for an excuse to scold me over something. “Jill only calls me when she needs something,” I said.
My mother brushed that aside. “Have you heard from Brad lately? I got a birthday card from him.” She sounded unbearably smug.
“No, Mom, I haven’t heard from Brad. I dumped him six months ago, remember?” I crossed the street with the crowd and then walked along the edge of the park.
“Well, I don’t see why. He’s perfectly nice, polite, a
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