Page 100 of Embracing the Change

I wasn’t invited?

With a good deal of practice, I mentally set that aside, moved down the line and stopped at a black and white photo of Mother and Dad.

Mom was wearing Dior (again, Christian Dior had been her favorite). Dad had a precisely folded pocket square in his dinner jacket. Clamped between my mother’s two darkly enameled, perfectly manicured fingers was a long, elegant cigarette holder bearing a lit cigarette (ah, a tragic indication that ignorance was not bliss). Dad had his arm around her and was smiling down at her like she hung the moon. She was smiling haughtily at the camera like her husband had just given her the stars.

It was one of the only photos that depicted how much they did indeed love each other.

Of course, they were much younger. The photo had been taken before their children came along (I had a younger sister who moved to Florida after her divorce five years ago, and we both had a younger brother who was a law professor at Yale—we were all close, emotionally, but sadly not close locationally).

So, for Mother and Dad, in that picture, love was in first bloom, and they hadn’t yet settled into their personalities, their responsibilities, their places in society or the people they would become.

But I knew their first-bloom love had never died, I just wished they both felt freer to express it, share it with their children, and mostly, each other.

I wondered if Mother would have been different if Dad couldn’t allow her to pass within reaching distance without gliding a finger along the back of her hand.

Perhaps not. Perhaps it would be her beautiful little secret.

But perhaps she would.

I was just glad I knew before I lost her (and yes, it was to lung cancer), that Jamie had her approval.

I wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t (case in point, she wasn’t Roland’s biggest fan, lesson learned: always listen to Mother).

But I was glad to know Jamie did.

My phone vibrated in my hand, and I looked to it.

It was a text from Mika, and I hoped she didn’t need to cancel our lunch. She would be great help with the overhaul of the closet.

I sat behind the desk, started the computer up, and looked at the text.

It was a photo, the sight of which, I gasped in delight.

It was a picture of a slender, white, long-haired cat with some nuanced gray shading around her eyes and ears. She had blue eyes and an expression on her face that stated plainly I cannot be dealing with you now.

In our conversation yesterday to set up lunch today, I’d told Mika that Jamie had said he wanted to adopt some pets, and since I’d been considering the same since the children had left (I just never got around to it), I decided to stop faffing about and see to that…for Jamie and for me.

I’d told Mika about this by asking her if she knew of any reputable shelters I should patronize.

Another text came in as my rhapsodizing gaze moved over the picture of the cat, and Mika told me, Her name is…get this…Heiress!

At this news, my thumbs flew over the screen, demanding, I have the call with my children now. Please contact whoever has custody of this animal at once to share I’m interested and wish to meet her as soon as schedules allow.

On it, Mika texted back.

I saved the photo and sent it to Jamie, with the message, We shall be meeting this darling soon. Warn Monica your schedule will need to be fit around it.

I was clicking into Skype when my phone vibrated on the desk.

I turned it over to read Jamie’s reply of, Trust you to find the most condescending cat in New York in only three days.

I didn’t share that I hadn’t found her, Mika had.

I said, I can’t be anyone other than me.

Thank God, he replied just as that annoying loop-de-loop sound of a Skype call coming in sounded.

I put my phone down and hit the camera to start the video.

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