Page 52 of Big Balls
Almost twenty minutes later, she comes back and hands me the phone, then disappears upstairs without a word. It’s going to be rough these next few days.
“Ma? How did it go? Did you tell Katy goodbye?”
My mom’s long silence tells me I have fucked this up. “Why would I be telling your little girlgoodbye, Thanny? Are you taking her to the fire station or what?”
Her voice is light, but here’s the thing. Heloise Alexander is a dangerous woman. She seems very polite, sweet even, but once you cross her, she will burn down everything you love on the earth to make sure you suffer.
“Mom, I thought for sure Katy would tell you.” I wince, because how does that sound? I am sending my only child away to boarding school and was expecting a six-year-old to be the bearer of bad news? Father of Year award coming right up.
“She’s going to Orthwein Academy. We’re leaving in the morning.”
The weight of the silence on this call is excruciating. My hands are all sweaty, and I feel somewhere between a stomach virus and a heart attack. This is crazy how much my mother still intimidates me.
“Now, son,” she starts, all reasonably and honeyed, and I brace myself for impact. “I’m sure you feel like you have good reasons for all of this, but I can’t even guess what they might be. Whatever happened with Zoe? Katy loved her, and she’s been doing remarkably well.”
I take a deep breath, thankful that I don’t have to lie. “Zoe took a job in California. It’s a tutoring type gig at a school for kids on the autism spectrum.”
My mother takes another oppressive moment of silence to digest this information. “What did you do?” She’s still using her gentle voice, so I am trying to take this as a good sign, even though everything about her being kind to me feels like a trap.
I huff out a breath. “We were sort of seeing each other. But Katy was talking about a wedding, and I told them I was loyal to Lisa and wouldn’t be getting married again.”
My mom takes a sharp breath. “Was this before or after Zoe decided to take the job in California?”
She knows, but I say it anyway. “Before.”
“So your solution is to let her get on an airplane and leave, and then ship your precious little girl off to some boarding school where she doesn’t know anyone and will grow up alone?”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “It’s not that simple. You know I can’t manage things with Katy without some help.”
“At least you’re being honest with yourself about that part.” My mom clears her throat, ready to issue some orders. “When is Zoe leaving?”
“Tonight,” I answer.
“Hmmmm,” she murmurs. “Ethan, I know that you love Lisa. Nobody thinks that you don’t. You were a good husband to her, even after she was killed.”
Why do I hear abutcoming up next? Because I can definitely hear it. She’s about to torpedo a giant hole in my bunker of denial.
“Thanks, Mom.” I hold my breath, waiting for the killing blow, and Mom doesn’t disappoint.
“But do you really think that Lisa would have wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone? Do you honestly believe that she wouldn’t wish for you to find someone special who makes you happy? Someone who loves Katy as if she were her own daughter?”
I understood every single word that she said, but none of them are making any sense. It’s like they’re jumbled up instead of in some sort of order, and the resulting sound makes as much sense as static.
“Thanny?” asks my mom, as if she hasn’t just blown up my own personal pity party.
“I’m here,” I manage faintly. I lean forward, my head resting in my hand. “Mom.”
She waits and the silence sits there, breathing between us. “Yes. You fucked up. But there’s still a little time to fix it.”
“I need to make a few phone calls. Get the guys to stay with Katy. Again.”
My mom makes a noise of agreement. “Don’t you dare let that girl leave, Ethan. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you or Katy.”
“She is. No doubt about it.” I sit up straight in my chair. “I’m going to call some people. Surely I can get her a job here in New Orleans, if she doesn’t want to come back to me.”
Suddenly, the thought of her being on the other side of the country is unbearable. Who gives a crap about California anyway?
Give me jazz and voodoo and historic buildings and Mardi Gras all year long. Give me ghosts and architecture and the best food in the country. I know New Orleans isn’t for everyone, but it’s my favorite place in the world.
