“Mom, you should have at least talked to me first.” Mom greets Grandma at the door this way. From my spot leaning against the kitchen counter, I can see Grandma pull off her sunglasses to reveal an unamused expression. I pop another donut hole in my mouth.
Grandma steps into the house, waving off her daughter. “I don’t need your permission to tell people my opinions.”
“Ben isn’t people, he’s—” She stops with the front door half-closed, using the end of her crutch to prop it open. “Whose truck is that?”
“A friend’s.” Grandma plops down at the kitchen table. “Which friend?” Mom closes the door and hobbles over. “Just a friend.”
“How many friends do you have these days?”
“I don’t know, Kathleen, a few,” Grandma says, exasperated. “I’m a likable person.”
“Wouldn’t know what that’s like,” I quip.
She puts a soft hand over mine. “Better to be interesting than likable, in my opinion.”
Mom wrinkles her nose like she disagrees.
“Do you want some coffee?” I ask Grandma. “I just made a fresh pot.” “Yes, hon. Thank you.”
I pour her a cup and drop the box of donut holes in the middle of the table. Grandma fishes out a powdered-sugar-covered one.
“Ben is not people!” Mom says, picking up her earlier complaint. “He broadcasted that interview to millions.”
“I think it’s thousands of people,” I say. “Let’s not pump up Ben’s ego any more.”
“Can you be serious for a minute, Lucy? Your grandmother could get sued.”
“For what? Saying Matt’s an asshole? He is. You can’t sue people for telling the truth.” I don’t actually think that’s true, but it sounds good.
“She implied that he killed Savvy. He can sue for that.” Mom starts fussing with the napkin holder in the middle of the table, lining up all the purple napkins so they’re perfectly straight.
“No, he can’t.” Grandma waves her hand dismissively. “I didn’t accuse him of anything. I just told everyone about the horrible things he said. If he didn’t want them out there, he shouldn’t have said them.”
“Men say shit,” Mom says, and I reel back in surprise at the curse. We’re a bad influence on her. “They talk and talk and sometimes it’s horrible, but that’s the way they are. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course it means something,” Grandma says. “They wouldn’t say it if it didn’t mean something. And I’m tired of this whole town acting like the sun shines out of Matt’s ass. I knew they would all get on that podcast and say how wonderful he was, and that’s exactly what happened. Someone needed to tell the truth.”
“The truth doesn’t matter,” Savvy whispers in my ear.
“I suspect Lucy will also tell the truth about him when she does her interview.” Grandma looks at me expectantly. No, not expectantly. It’s a challenge.
“I will,” I lie. “For sure.”
Grandma smiles like this lie satisfies her.
“I think you should be … selective in your truth,” Mom says slowly.
My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? After all these years of you hounding me to tell the truth about what happened that night and now—”
“I didn’t hound you. And of course you should be up front about everything with Savvy. I’m just saying, this podcast has gotten a little off track and, frankly, sex obsessed.”
“Sex obsessed!” Grandma cackles.
“Did we need to know about Lucy’s affair? Or Matt’s? Or mine? Why is he constantly talking about it?” Mom sniffs.
“You’re right, he should have mentioned all of Don’s affairs if he was going to bring up yours,” Grandma says.
“That is the exact opposite of my point, Mother. Lucy, please do not mention your father’s constant rotation of girlfriends.”
“Oh my god.” I lean my head back with a moan. “I’m having high school flashbacks.”
Grandma pats my hand again.
“You really care if I bring up Dad’s affairs?” I ask Mom, even though I never had any intention of doing that.
“It’s irrelevant.”
I cross my arms over my chest as she determinedly avoids my gaze. She doesn’t want me to talk about Dad’s affairs, and she doesn’t want Grandma to talk about Matt being an asshole. Mom is, as always, dedicated to protecting the men in her life above all else. I’m not sure she even realizes she’s doing it. It’s a habit at this point.
“Speaking of the truth,” I begin, unable to resist making Mom even more uncomfortable. Both Grandma and Mom freeze, like I’m about to reveal something important. “Can we talk about Colin Dunn for a minute?”
Mom lets out a long-suffering sigh and plucks a napkin with a small dog-ear from the stack. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Oh yes, let’s change the subject,” Grandma says, brushing powdered sugar off her shirt.
“I’m not talking about Colin,” Mom says, and then pauses. “Because there’s nothing to say.”
“At least tell me how that happened,” I press. “Ben said it was an ongoing affair.”
“I don’t know why Ben thinks he knows my business.”
“Is he right, though?” Grandma has a shit-eating grin on her face.
Mom takes a donut hole and breaks it apart. She puts a tiny bite on her tongue, and then drops the rest of it on the napkin. “No. It was just that night.”
“That’s too bad,” Grandma says wistfully. “He’s very cute, for a twentysomething.” Mom rolls her eyes, but the edges of her lips twitch.
“Was the wedding the first time?” I ask.
“Yes.” The lines between her eyebrows appear again when she looks at me. “He said that he and Savvy saw other people.”
“They did.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not looking at you! This is just my normal face!”
She frowns and breaks off another tiny piece of the donut. “It was years ago, and it was once, and—”
“Was it good?” Grandma interrupts. “Mother.”
“What? Young men were not great at sex when I was—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Mom says, face scrunched up like she’s in pain.
“I’m just saying. Some things get better with age.”
I snort-laugh. Mom crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head.
I lean closer to Grandma. “Savvy had no complaints,” I whisper.
She cackles. Mom’s cheeks turn pink as she shoves the rest of the donut in her mouth.
