Breaking a dry spell that had run in tandem with Jack’s own during our recent crisis involving three restless Revolutionary War–era spirits and the upcoming filming scheduled to begin after the holidays, her parents’ current woes had apparently added fuel to her creative fire. The melancholy strains of her guitar were now a constant soundtrack to my life.
It didn’t help that the lyrics were as dismal as the melodies, but Nola’s music was important to her, so I didn’t ask her to stop, although I had started shoving earplugs in my ears after I heard the first words to her latest effort: “My shriveled heart, all black and cold, yet still it beats, until I’m old . . .” I had to keep reminding myself that Nola had chosen to stay with me when Jack moved out, a show of affection and solidarity I appreciated, although she insisted she wasn’t choosing sides. But after listening to her music, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d stayed as a way to punish me for being so completely stupid where her father was concerned.
I heard Nola’s bedroom door open and the sound of three sets of paws, one set slower than the others, scampering down the hallway toward the steps. Even General Lee had deserted my bed and now chose to sleep in Nola’s room in a canine form of reproach. Although I kept reminding myself that I didn’t like dogs, his desertion hurt almost as much as Jack’s.
As Jayne retreated to the kitchen to retrieve a garbage bag, I shuffled into the foyer to watch Nola descend the stairs, each step causing dead pine needles to cascade to the floor from the banister garland. The plastic pomegranates and other contraband that I had snuck in behind Sophie’s historically authentic eye remained full and ripe amid the desiccated wreckage of the garland. I wanted to take a picture to prove to Sophie that I’d been right about how plastic had a place among my Christmas decor, but even that righteous victory felt hollow.
Nola’s long dark hair fell forward as she devoted all of her concentration to her seemingly physically attached phone, her thumbs flying over the screen as she descended the stairs with the three dogs running circles around her ankles.
“Could you at least hold the banister with one hand? That’s really not safe.”
She continued her descent as if she hadn’t heard me, her thumbs pausing only when she reached the bottom. She looked up at me with Jack’s piercing blue eyes—all three of my children were clones of their father, as if their mothers had merely been holding cells between conception and birth—and smiled her father’s smile, which always caught me off guard. “Did you say something? I was texting Lindsey and Alston about seeing a movie later.”
I opened my mouth to repeat myself, but then thought better of it. If I’d learned anything about handling teenage girls in the three years since Nola had come to live with us, it was that choosing which battles to fight was the difference between domestic tranquility and living with a ticking time bomb. Nola was generally easygoing, except when someone mentioned her lack of a driver’s license, questioned her devotion to being vegan, or asked her where she wanted to go for college.
Instead I bent to scratch three sets of fluffy ears. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I was rewarded with soft licks from little pink tongues, the show of affection bringing tears of gratitude to my eyes. Not that they were any substitute for Jack, but at this point I’d take it.
I could tell Nola was fighting the urge to roll her eyes. Ever since Jack had left, she’d been keeping the eye-rolling to a minimum, apparently to stop my ego from completing its downhill slide. “It’s Saturday. Today’s the campus tour at the College of Charleston, remember?”
I was fairly certain she hadn’t mentioned it to me, as I’d already checked my phone and desk calendars and they were both empty. And I would have remembered it. The whole college question had become a sensitive issue, which she faced with quiet stoicism as she left the house to attend her SAT prep class or college fairs—all done without Jack or me. She didn’t want any “undue influence,” which was ridiculous, really. Jack and I had both attended the University of South Carolina—Jack on a football scholarship—and we only wanted her to find the school where she’d fit in best. Just because Jack had season tickets to watch the Gamecocks and wore cardinal and gold for most of the fall didn’t necessarily mean he wanted her to attend his alma mater. Not that he’d have objected. We’d at least achieved her agreement to allow us to visit colleges with her, as long as we remained silent.
“Actually, I don’t.”
Her eyes moved to the dogs as she studiously avoided my gaze. “Yeah, well, Dad’s taking me.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, feeling more than just a little hurt. I’d envisioned the three of us doing the college hunt together, me with my spreadsheet carefully noting the pros and cons of each institution of higher learning in which Nola expressed an interest. I managed a smile that might have been more wobble than actual smile. “I can print out my spreadsheet for you to take with you if you like. I’ll be happy to type in everything later.”
Her eyes met mine and I ignored the look of pity in them. I wondered if I resembled General Lee when he sat by the table begging for scraps.
Nola’s face brightened. “You know, Dad didn’t say that you couldn’t come. I mean, if you want to.”
The old Mellie would have shouted Yes! But that was the old Mellie. After all my false starts and stops at becoming a better edition of myself, I was now working on Mellie Version 107 or so.
Before I could say no, Nola interrupted me. “I’d like you to be there.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes so that her meaning couldn’t be interpreted that she needed me there. “I mean, if you aren’t busy or anything. You are my parents, and I know Alston’s and Lindsey’s parents are all going. So it would be weird if you didn’t.”
I tried to keep the excitement from my voice, so I sounded as low-key as Nola. “Well, in that case, I should go. I need to talk to your dad anyway, so I can kill two birds with one stone.”