Page 23 of Cuts like a Knife
“Apparently.”
“What happened?”
“No idea.”
“That’s weird.” I press on. “I mean, you don’t just stop being friends with your BFF of what? More than twenty years? It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, indeed it doesn’t.” Di takes a sip of her drink. Her expression is pained, but she keeps her voice low and her eyes on the expectant mother as she continues. “I don’t know what happened. She couldn’t be bothered to tell me. Just ditched me. Anyway, she’s gone. It’s fine.” Di takes another swallow of her drink. “Claire certainly doesn’t miss her.”
I’m about to say that none of us will (Lou was fairly awful, frankly) when I feel a warm presence behind me.
“Hi.”
His breath is so close to my ear, I immediately break out in all-over goosebumps.
Where did he come from?
“Hello all,” Drew says, more loudly. “Sorry I’m late. Hi Di.” He leans forward and kisses my sister on her cheek. Doesn’t do his patented double-cheek nonsense for one, I notice, but even a peck is too much for Di.
“A handshake will suffice next time, Andrew,” she retorts.
“Felix, right?” Drew’s got his hand out to Di’s man73.
“That’s right. Drew, is it? Childhood best friend of baby brother, if I’ve got it all straight?” says Felix.
“That’s me. Hey, bro.” Drew nods at Gray who’s looking up and back over his shoulder from the sofa at the lot of us.
“Let’s keep it quiet please!” interjects a random floor director I don’t recognize.
We zip our lips and refocus on Claire and the presents, oohing and exclaiming at appropriate intervals.
As the shower charade and present opening goes on, out of the corner of my eye, I notice that Marla seems to be getting more and more agitated. She’s mumbling, huffing and puffing, ever more loudly, and everyone around her seems to be ignoring her presence74.
Finally, she can’t seem take anymore. There’s a very slight lull in Claire’s present-opening and she leaps at the chance to interject.
“I have something to show you!” Her voice is like the caw of an impatient crow. “Adam, darling. I’ve brought something for my baby,” she calls, jumping out of her chair.
Claire’s face has frozen into a rictus smile.
“This isn’t on the schedule,” says the floor director.
“Keep shooting,” I hear one of the crew say in a quiet voice. “Close on the MIL.”
“Well, we all know this isn’t the real shower don’t we? And I wasn’t allowed to invite any of my friends, even though I’ve been invited to all of their children’s baby showers. We all participate in each other’s lives. As honored guests, not just last minute add-on invitees.” Marla laughs, shrilly75.
“You said you’ve brought something for the baby, Marla?” Claire’s still smiling, but her entire body is tense. I can see her white knuckles gripping Adam’s hand.
“I do! One moment! It’s just in my car.” Marla hurries from the room and out the door, presumably to retrieve whatever it is from her car. A moment later, she’s back, hauling a gargantuan basket of baby gear, which she proceeds to lay out in front of Claire, item by item, object by object, on the floor.
“Since my friends couldn’t attend, but they so generously wanted to give things to the baby, they held a grandma shower for me,” Marla says. “And these were my gifts! Isn’t it all this lovely? So generous. Peg Stevens made this baby blanket herself, you know. Isn’t it darling? And this little sailor suit! Can you even? Cups, plates, cutlery—”
“For a newborn baby?” mutters Di, next to me. Marla doesn’t seem to hear her. She just keeps going, pulling more and more crap out of the basket.
“And of course, stuffies!” Marla cries, pulling an ark’s worth of plush animals out of the basket, one by one. “All the essentials. And also a bassinet, and a high chair — they’re still at my place. Just all the things any mother could want or need. Isn’t that lovely? Even though they weren’t invited, Claire, they sent my baby all these beautiful things.”
“Did she just say my baby?” Di whispers again.
She did, but I don’t respond. My eyes are on Claire. This is wild. Why would Marla’s random friends have been invited to Claire’s baby shower, real or not?
