Page 58 of Such Sharp Teeth

“I’m not having any serious discussions over brunch,” I say, gnawing on my celery just to have something to break between my teeth. “We can talk about this baby shower, or how things are in Charleston, or I can talk to you about my job, or preferred brands of powdered collagen, or gossip from my rich-person gym. Those are the approved topics.”

“Fine,” she says, unfolding her napkin across her lap. “But you know I love you, and your sister loves you, and now we’re going to have a new family member, and I know it weighs heavy on all of us. There are a lot of feelings that have resurfaced over the past few years. I wish you’d talk to me. It’s not healthy to leave these things unresolved.”

“It’s been unresolved,” I say. “It can wait until after brunch.”

Our food comes, truly perfect timing. She lets it go. We talk about the things we need to get for the shower.

She pays the check, then drives us to the grocery store and then to Target to pick up some supplies to drop off at Ash’s.

Ash is hosting so it can be a surprise, because the only thing better than a baby shower is a surprise baby shower. Ash left the door unlocked for us, and we find her in the kitchen, hovering over her stand mixer, wearing a frilly apron.

“Your hair,” she says, sweeping it out of the folds of my hoodie. “It’s so shiny! I feel like it’s grown inches since I last saw you! What are you using?”

“Nothing,” I answer. “Honest.”

“You Morris women and your good genes,” she says. “Cyndi! Hi!”

She hugs my mother.

Luca comes scooting into the room atop a tiny fire truck. He presses a button and a musical alarm sounds.

“Beep beep!” he screams. “Beep! Beeeeeep!”

He runs over my toe, looking me right in the eye as he does it. Frankly, I admire his fortitude.

“Oh, he’s gotten so big!” Mom says. “Those curls! Those dimples!”

“He’s a little terror,” Ash says, smiling proudly. “He makes such a mess. Come, sit. There’s coffee and shortbread.”

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” I ask.

I smell pee somewhere. I suspect Luca’s potty training is not going well.

This new sense of smell is distracting, and I miss something Mom says.

“Sorry. Can you repeat that?”

She lays out the plan. I’m meant to get to Ash’s early, help set up. Mom’s bringing Scarlett over around one o’clock. Scarlett thinks we’re having lunch with just Ashley. Surprise.

I’m still uneasy about the whole thing, but I haven’t really had the energy to dedicate to worrying about it. I’ve been too busy sleeping eighteen hours a day and sweating through my sheets and chain-smoking and trying to navigate the minefield that is my relationship with my mother and, occasionally, Googling “werewolf cure” before getting discouraged and crying and/or laughing at the absurdity of my circumstance.

Putting a stop to this baby shower hasn’t been as high on my priority list as it probably should be.

Too late now.

Mom gets up and goes to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Ash. Luca’s once again been given the iPad in exchange for silence.

“How’s it been having Cyndi around?” she asks.

Ash is one of the few people who knows about what happened with Dave. She was over at our house all the time; there was no way for her not to know, not to sense something was amiss. She didn’t pry; Scarlett asked for my permission to tell her, and I gave it, not wanting to deprive my sister of someone to confide in. I knew Ash was trustworthy. She’s always been considerate, respectful, nonjudgmental. She never asked me why I didn’t get out of the car or any of the other unfair questions that I always asked myself.

“Fine, I guess. She picks on me, and I know it’s coming from a good place, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve talked about this. I made excuses for her for so long. Once the spell’s broken, it’s hard to see anything else. The manipulation, the selfishness, the immaturity.”

“I hear you,” she says. “I understand.”

“I know you do, angel face. Anyway . . .”

“I’m sorry about the shower,” she says. “I do think it’s a good idea. I think it’ll be fun. I think she’ll like it.”