Page 92 of Four Weekends and a Funeral

I feel Adam hovering but don’t stop talking to my James Bond superfan—mostly afraid that if I do, Adam won’t have anything to say to me anyway.

“What about Netflix? Name every show you’ve ever seen on Netflix. We must have some overlap.” Elin and I are getting desperate.

Dr.Lewis puts out cookies. He thinks the green tray is vegan but when Elin presses, he can’t be sure. “Judy usually handles this,” he tells us. I wander from room to room looking for where they stashed the coats to make a run for it. Adam finds me in a small room of floor-to-ceiling mocha.

“Patagonia with Russell is happening?” He asks the question like he doesn’t care about the answer.

“It never wasn’t happening. I’m excited.”

“You’re excited.”

“I’m excited about the prospect of a life-altering experience.” I feel his brain working. “What is it?”

He rocks on his heels. “Just wondering if you’ll let me drive you to the airport or if you’ll fly off on your adventure without telling me.”

“Since you don’t know if or when you’ll want to move here,” I argue, keeping my voice flat, “it probably wouldn’t be convenient for you to drive me.”

To anyone who would overhear, this conversation sounds like emotionless small talk, but it feels like plates smashing against the wall of my chest.

“I knew you were still thinking about that,” he huffs. I say nothing, moving the pattern of the Persian rug with my toe when I hear the slap of slippers approaching us.

Mrs.Lewis walks in in shearling slippers and a robe with the emblem of a European river cruise line embroidered on the collar. She looks impossibly disheveled and bone tired. If I didn’t know the true source of her appearance, I’d assume she was wandering the house after being roused from a surgical procedure.

When she sees us, she smiles for one beautiful second before her face empties out. We watch her remember all over again. The broken look in her eyes burns a trail through my heart.

“Mom.” A woman’s voice carries from the hallway.

“Rachel, we’re in the office,” Mrs.Lewis answers, awareness flickering back to her face.

“We? Mom, you should go back to bed.” Sam’s sister, Rachel, appears in the doorway, and my eyes lock on my original coconspirator. “Alison?” My name has never sounded so much like a curse word.

“Rachel!” My voice is too jovial to be genuine. “Good to see you again, I was just leaving,” I say. My fingers buzz, itching to turn the knob of the front door. I can’t stay in this house for another second.

Mrs.Lewis places her hand on my arm. My chest constricts at this wrinkle in my escape plan. “I have a gift for you. Richard, can you grab the box from the sideboard?” she calls out to her husband, who advances toward her voice.

“Judy, are you down here in your robe?” Dr.Lewis’s question holds no judgment or embarrassment, only concern. “I’m sending everyone home. I thought this would be good. I thought—”

“You thought we could eat charcuterie and drink wine on my brother’s birthday and pretend he didn’t die?”

The room collectively winces at Rachel’s direct shot.

Mrs.Lewis pinches the bridge of her nose. “Please, Rachel. Not now.”

“Why are you turning on me? I flew all the way out for a party I knew was a bad idea.”

“Richard, get the box from the sideboard in the hall so I can give them Sam’s presents and go back to sleep.”

“Presents? Mom, you don’t have to—”

Mrs.Lewis cuts her daughter off with a wave of her hand. Her whole body shakes. Adam swallows hard, and I know he sees how frail she looks.

Her husband fulfills her request, returning to the room holding an envelope and a tiny box. The small room is packed with bodies that suddenly feel like an audience. Dr.Lewis hands his wife a box, but everyone’s eyes fix on me.

The room feels elastic, like it’s stretching around me and snapping against my skin. I paste on a smile, my face hot.

Mrs.Lewis tightens her terry cloth belt. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. It’s a, uh, hard day.” The word hard seems insufficient.

Dr.Lewis cleans his glasses with his sweater. “Russell tells us you really went above and beyond with the condo. I know you must be anxious to have his more valuable personal effects distributed,” he says.

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