If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Now (13 page)

The greetings were awkward. Gabriel gave me one of his patented bear hugs but when he tried to embrace my mother, she stepped
back and coldly extended her hand to him. She was still furious at him for cheating on Melanie.

Ryan came over and dropped a casual kiss on my cheek. “Been thinking about you,” he whispered. “What are you doing later tonight,
when all this is over?”

“Probably talking Noah down from a sugar high.”

“And after that?”

I glanced around to make sure no one could hear us. “Coming over to your place?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He moved on and shook my father’s hand.

As soon as Gabriel and Ryan’s mother had bestowed a hostile air-kiss a few inches from Melanie’s cheek, Mom took her firmly
by the arm and propelled her over to the sofa. “You look younger every time I see you,” she said pulling Sandra down next
to her on the sofa. “What’s your secret?” Sandra, who spent more annually on beauty treatments and plastic surgery than most
large families in America spent on food, launched into some absurd speech about how lucky she was with her genes, and Melanie
mouthed a heartfelt “Thank you” to my mom for rescuing her from any more interaction with her soon-to-be-ex-mother-in-law.

Gabriel’s father had died a long time ago from a heart attack. From the photos I’d seen, he had Gabriel’s physique plus another
fifty pounds or so, which had made him arguably
more grizzly bear than teddy bear. Anyway, since his death Sandra had apparently chosen to devote herself full time to fighting
any signs of aging. Her skin was shiny and tight, her eyes tilted ever so slightly up toward her temples, her lips were unnaturally
plump, and her forehead was smooth as Lucite. She wasn’t young and she wasn’t pretty. She was just… not wrinkled.

She had never been welcoming toward Melanie, and had made it clear that she considered her sons her sole property. She had
cried at Gabriel and Mel’s wedding, and not for joy, although the births of her two grandchildren seemed to have reconciled
her somewhat to the marriage. Still, you had to assume that the impending divorce gave her some pleasure. I wondered what
her sons had actually told her about the separation and suspected that in their version Melanie had capriciously tossed Gabriel
out on his ear for no real reason.

At any rate, it was nice of my mother, who couldn’t stand Sandra and had only endured her company in the past for Gabriel’s
sake, to throw herself on the bomb and keep her occupied and away from Melanie.

The rest of us were still awkwardly standing around the living room, and then Melanie said, “I’ll get the kids—they’re in
the family room,” and fled, like the coward she was.

I said, “I’ll get the wine.”

“I’ll help,” said Ryan.

In the kitchen, he leaned against the refrigerator and said dryly, “What a fun family we are tonight. Happy Halloween and
god bless us everyone.”

“I love your mother’s zombie mask,” I said. “It’s terrifying.”

“Fuck you,” he said, fairly amicably, all things considered.

“Later.” I started pouring wine into glasses, carelessly sloshing a little over the side.

He shook his finger at me. “Keep making cracks about my mother and I may change my mind about letting you come over.”

“You love when I make cracks about your mother. You don’t have the guts to do it yourself.”

He watched me lick a drop of wine off my wrist. “You know, it would be nice if some of the wine actually went in the glasses.”

“Don’t be a backseat pourer.”

“I have an idea,” he said, coming up close behind me. “We could sneak upstairs for a few minutes—”

“We could.” I kept pouring, even though he was making it hard to concentrate. “But we won’t.”

“Why not?” His breath was warm against my ear.

“Noah might come looking for me.”

“I’ll be fast.” He pushed against me and I leaned back into him for a moment, then sighed and picked up two wineglasses.

“Take these into the other room, will you? And make sure Mel gets one right away. She needs it.”

“She looks really good tonight,” he said, stepping back and taking the glasses out of my hands. “Better than ever.”

“Doesn’t she? Your brother is a stupid idiot.”

“That’s two,” he said.

I carried two more filled glasses into the living room. The kids had come in, and Sandra was making a big fuss over how adorable
Nicole and Cameron looked (she was a girl pirate; he was Harry Potter) and completely ignoring Noah, who was standing forlornly
off by himself, fidgeting nervously. I saw Ryan pass by him on his way to giving Melanie her glass of wine. “Hey, Cameron,”
he said with an absent nod. “How’s it going?”

“I’m not Cameron,” Noah said, but Ryan had already gone by and didn’t hear him.

Gabriel—bless his generous cheating heart—must have caught that because suddenly he swooped down on him. “My friend Noah!”
he roared. “There you are!” He caught him up in his arms in a warm Gabriel-style hug.

That caught Sandra’s attention. She deigned to glance at Noah as Gabriel released him. “You should go put on your costume,”
she said. “What are you waiting for?”

Noah’s face crumpled. I rushed over. “He’s already wearing it. I think he looks great.” I thrust the glasses of wine at my
mother, who took them, and I put my arms around Noah’s shoulders and squeezed him tightly. “He’ll be the only kid out there
who’s a coach,” I said.

“A coach! Of course!” Gabriel said enthusiastically. “It’s a fantastic costume, Noah!” Noah’s face relaxed. Crisis of self-confidence
averted. For that moment.

“He has a whistle,” Nicole said, pointing to where it hung around his neck. “But he’s not allowed to blow it. He did, though,”
she added to me in a lowered voice. “Earlier, when we were in the family room. I told him if he did it again, you’d take it
away from him.”

“Thanks for handling the situation,” I whispered back.

The doorbell rang. “That’ll be the pizza,” my mother said. She handed the wineglasses back to me and hustled out of the room.
I gave one of the wineglasses to Gabriel, and since Ryan had already given his two away to Mel and Sandra, I gave him my last
one.

“I love this game,” Ryan said as he took it. “Musical wineglasses. Do I drink it or just pass it on?”

I smiled sweetly at him and murmured, “Would you like me to tell you where to put it?”

“That’s three,” he said. “Now you’re in trouble.”

My mother called from the hallway. “Come to the dining room! Pizza’s here!”

“Mom?” Noah said. “Is my pizza ready?”

I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “Shoot, Noah! I’m sorry!”

“Every time,” he said more with sorrow than resentment. “Every time you forget.”

“I’ll make it right now.” I ran into the kitchen. My mother was already in there, getting paper plates out of the closet.

“So much for being environmentally friendly,” she said with a nod of greeting. “I’m going to hell when I die.”

“They don’t use paper plates in hell.” I put down my glass and ran to the freezer. “They’d burn right up.”

“Plus one of the ways they torture people is probably by making them wash dishes for all eternity. An activity I’m well acquainted
with.” She piled some napkins on top of the plates and glanced over at me. “What are you doing?”

“Making a pizza for Noah.”

“Oh, right. Bring a pitcher of water and some cups when you come in, will you?” She hustled out with the plates.

I turned on the toaster oven and was searching for a pitcher when the phone rang. “Hi,” said the male voice at the other end.
“I’m looking for either Melanie or Rickie.”

“This is Rickie. Who’s this?”

“My name’s Matt Quinn. I’m Carol Lynn Donahue’s cousin—she said I could call you?”

“Oh, right.” I had totally forgotten about him. “Uh, hi. What’s up?”

“I think Carol Lynn told you I just moved to LA? She thought maybe you—or Melanie—that one of you could maybe show me around
a little?”

You could tell the guy didn’t have kids: no one who did would have cold-called on Halloween night. I was about to ask him
to call back another time when the voices from the other room gave me an idea. “Hold on a second,” I said into the phone.
“Let me get Melanie. She’s really the one who”—
Who what?
I wondered frantically. I didn’t know how to end the sentence, so instead I said abruptly, “Just a sec” and put him on hold.

I entered the dining room, cradling the phone against my chest. “Hey, Mel?” I called over the noise of people sitting down
and doling out pizza and talking.

She looked up from where she was getting Cameron settled at the table. “What?”

“Phone for you. It’s that guy.” There was a sudden silence in the room.

“What guy?”

“You know. That guy. The one who”—I shook the phone at her—“You know. He really wants to talk to you.” I sneaked a glance
at Gabriel. He was watching the whole exchange, eyes slightly narrowed.

Melanie came around the table toward me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shh.” I pulled her into the kitchen and closed the door. “It’s Carol Lynn’s cousin.”

“Oh. Just tell him I’ll call him back.” She turned.

“No, wait.” I grabbed her arm. “Talk to him. Make a date. Laugh loudly.”

“Why?”

“Because Gabriel’s in the next room,” I hissed. “And I saw the expression on his face when I said a guy was calling you. Make
him suffer.”

“But I don’t really want to talk to this guy.”

“Come on,” I said. “This is perfect timing. Make a date
with him then come into the other room and tell me about it—very loudly, and in front of everyone.”

“It’s childish, Rickie.”

“Do it for me,” I said, and forced the phone on her.

S
andra tolerated about two blocks of trick-or-treating before saying she’d had enough and wanted to go home. Ryan came over
to say good-bye to me and whispered that he had decided to “let” me come over later, despite the three strikes against me.
I thanked him politely and reminded him to remove his mother’s mask before he tucked her into her crypt for the night.

“Shut up.” Then, lowering his voice even more, he said, “So who’s the guy who called Melanie?”

“I don’t have to tell you.” He couldn’t see it in the dark, but I was smirking.

“Gabriel asked me to find out.”

“Yeah? I hope the suspense is killing him.”

“You have a bad attitude about this,” Ryan said. “Isn’t the goal to get them back together? I mean look at them.” He gestured
to where they were both bent over Cameron’s bag of treats, exclaiming over the treasures. “Don’t you just want things to go
back the way they were?”

“You’re such a girl,” I said.

“Fuck you.”

“It’s not such a bad insult. Go ahead, call me a girl. I don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t kill you to be a little more girly,” he muttered and stalked away.

I turned back to the others and, in the weird orange glow of a house’s Halloween pumpkin lights, I watched as Gabriel said
good night to Melanie. He hugged her, and—for just a moment—her body melted into his and she let her forehead drop onto his
shoulder. He held her close with real tenderness and didn’t seem in any hurry to end the embrace, but then she suddenly twisted
away from him and busied herself adjusting Cameron’s Harry Potter glasses. She didn’t look up again, not even when he walked
away.

They all left, and Mel and I continued on with the three kids. My mother had stayed back at the house to hand out candy, and
my father had vanished into his study right after dinner.

“You okay?” I asked Melanie as Nicole marched the two boys up to another house.

She shrugged silently, her mouth drooping, and I realized how close she was to crying, so I left her alone. She made a big
fuss over the kids’ candy when they rejoined us, and that seemed to steady her.

“No one knows what Noah is,” Cameron told me as we walked on to the next house, loudly enough for Noah to hear.

“That’s because his costume’s so original,” I said quickly.

“Yeah,” Nicole said. “Unlike yours, Cameron. I’ve seen like twenty other Harry Potters.”

“Shut up!” Cameron said.

“It’s true.”

“Well, at least people know who I am.”

Noah tugged at my hand. “I want to go home,” he said in a small voice.

“Already? I thought we’d still do a few more blocks.”

“No one knows who I am,” he said and his voice broke. “I feel stupid.”

“I love your costume,” I said. “You are so obviously a coach. If other people don’t get that, it’s because they’re stupid,
not because it’s a bad costume.”

“I wish I was Harry Potter like Cameron.”

“I like your costume better.”

“Come on,” Nicole said, pulling on his other arm. “Let’s go do this house, Noey. They have Twizzlers.”

“I can’t eat Twizzlers,” Noah said. “They’re not GF.”

“Oh, sorry. We’ll see if they have something else.”

He let her lead him up the path to inevitable disappointment.

The next morning, Noah couldn’t find the baseball cap Coach Andrew had lent him. He ran frantically around the house searching
for it. “I had it when I came home from trick-or-treating,” he said. “But now I can’t find it anywhere.” His face was taut
with anxiety. “Is he going to be mad? Do you think he’ll tell me I can’t be his assistant coach anymore?”

“I don’t think so. But you should have been more careful.”

“He’s going to kill me,” he said, and was inconsolable for the rest of the morning. He was a knot of misery when I dropped
him off at school. I watched him drag himself slowly inside. I had driven halfway home when I pulled a sudden U-turn at an
intersection. A car coming toward me honked and I just waved cheerfully at the driver with deliberate obtuseness.

I made my way back to school and parked on the street outside, since parents were still dropping kids off, then walked through
the courtyard, sidestepping the roughly ten million small children who were making their way to their classrooms.

Andrew’s office door was open a few inches, so I stuck my head in. “You got a second?”