Page 76 of We All Live Here
Penelope demurs, coloring. She is wearing a chain with a tiny toothpaste tube pendant “in honor of the occasion.” She had apparently crafted it from modeling clay and paint the previous day, just for fun, and has promised to show Violet how she did it. Lila is a little worried about what Violet will choose to make, but she guesses that Penelope will have to get used to her family one way or another, poo benches, X-rated rap lyrics and all.
They are settled in front of the television ten minutes before the allotted time for the advertisement broadcast. A plate of warm cookies is passed backward and forward along the two sofas, drinks refilled, a happy hum of conversation breaking across the television commentary. Violet is on the floor, as there is barely enough room for everyone, and Truant, who is not happy about the numbers currently in the house, eyes them all suspiciously from behind the curtain. Lila has found herself seated on the sofa beside Jensen, which makes her feel oddly self-conscious, but Eleanor, who has had several glasses of wine, is drumming up excitement, calling: “We want Gene! We want Gene!” sporadically, which draws everyone’s attention, including Jensen’s, so she mostly hangs on to her feelings of equanimity.
And then, breaking into a nature documentary about reptiles in Australia, there he is on the screen: her father, dressed in an unfamiliarly formal white shirt, his hair tamed and trimmed, gazing, concerned, at his teeth in a mirror.
It’s never too late to look a little brighter, says the female voiceover, and on-screen Gene, having brushed, suddenly smiles, his great shit-eating grin, and the whole room erupts. “Yay, Gene!” Eleanor, who is positively giddy, reaches over and high-fives him, the kids jump up, Bill says, “Very good, very good, Gene,” Truant starts barking, and as they all applaud, Lila absorbs what Eleanor said and thinks,Yes, maybe this is a family. With all its mad history and chaos, heartbreaks, stupid jokes, ridiculous triumphs, and distinct lack of Noguchi coffee-tables, maybe this is my family.
Chapter Twenty-five
The dinner date is to take place on Friday evening. Every time Lila thinks about it she experiences a shiver of nervous anticipation. In the last two days, she has been to the local salon where she had everything waxed, and her nails manicured. Her hair has been blow-dried so that it falls in glossy brown waves, and she has treated herself to new underwear, having decided that almost everything in her drawer was either too old, or gaped in unhelpful places (thank you, divorce diet). She is wearing a black silk dress, high in the collar but with a small slit up the skirt, which always draws compliments, and which she hopes makes her look sophisticated yet casual in a Parisian sort of way. She reads affirmations on Instagram, reminding herself that she is strong, desirable, a survivor, that her experiences have shaped her into someone unstoppable. She spends only forty minutes or so feeling bad about the skin on her neck.
He has been specific about timings so she ensures that she is readyfor seven. His address is not far away, and she will walk there as long as it isn’t raining. She is better moving if she is nervous.
She texts him at six forty-five.
Just heading off x
He responds immediately.Slight snafu at work. Could you come a bit later? Say 9-ish? Want to get Lennie to bed before you arrive.
She had been under the impression Lennie was staying at his mother’s.
I’m totally fine with Lennie. She knows me.
Yes, but she’ll get overexcited and then not want to go to bed. Better if she’s asleep x
It is written in the inarguable tone of a parent who knows their child best. Lila rereads the message twice, then sighs and heads downstairs, where Bill is in the middle of serving dinner. It’s just him, Gene, and the girls this evening and they are having spaghetti bolognese, which makes Lila a little wistful. She loves spaghetti bolognese and she has barely eaten today.
“You look pretty, sweetheart,” says Gene, who is taking his place at the table. “Going out?”
“Yes. Just drinks with a friend.”
“What friend?” says Violet.
Lila is about to tell her the truth, but something stops her. “Just someone from school,” she says.
“Girls’ night out, huh?” says Gene.
“I thought you might go out with Jensen again at some point,” says Bill, a little pointedly.
“Jensen and I are just friends,” she says firmly.
Celie snorts into her pasta.
“What?”
“Friends who likesleepovers,” she mutters.
“Did you have a sleepover with Jensen?” says Violet, her eyes boggling. “Jensen the gardener Jensen?”
“It was ages ago and, yes, we had a…sleepover.”
“Was it a pajama party?”
“Something like that.”
Celie snorts again.
“Well, if you and your ‘friend’ are likely to be out late,” Bill says, with a raised eyebrow, “it would be good if you could let us know. Just so we don’t worry. Again.”
