A Happy Catastrophe: A Novel by Maddie Dawson

Author:Maddie Dawson [Dawson, Maddie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-05-26T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MARNIE

When we go back into the dining room, I’m shocked to see Bedford standing up on one of the twins’ chairs, helping himself to a turkey leg.

“Bedford!” I yell, and he jumps down, looking appropriately guilty. I wait for my mother to say something about the bad manners of poozums, but she is trying not to look scandalized. I can see it in her face. Suddenly I feel like I’m seeing the whole house—my whole life!—from her point of view. All the chipped, mismatched plates, the couch cushions stacked up haphazardly on the children’s chairs, the stained Thanksgiving-orange tablecloth, the scarred wooden floor, the ratty lace curtains that belonged to Blix, the funky, colorful artwork on the wall—everything I’ve treasured about my own life here looks a bit shabby through the eyes of Millie MacGraw, who has matching everything and sterling silver platters and who prides herself on “making a nice home.”

“Mom, here. Sit down in my place. I’ll go get another plate and a fork and knife,” I say. Patrick brings over an upholstered chair from the front room while Gloria moves the children over so we can squeeze in another place setting. When she comes over to take Marco from me, he bats her away and squeals. He may now be a permanent fixture on my hip.

“I have never had such a dedicated fan,” I tell him and nuzzle his sweet little drooly neck. “You are pulling all the right strings with me, buddy.”

Patrick grimaces. “Can you eat that way? With him, I mean?”

“Of course I can! But anyway, who needs food when I have this much love?” I glide around the table to my chair, bouncing Marco on my hip.

My mother gets herself settled in. “Ohhh, look!” she says. “You put the marshmallows on the sweet potatoes! I had no idea you still made it the Southern way.”

“Well, sure I do. What other way is there? Right when you showed up, in fact, I was in here explaining about how sweet potatoes have to get marshmallowed up on Thanksgiving. Your arrival timing was perfect,” I tell her.

She smiles at me. “Isn’t timing always perfect? Didn’t you tell me that once?” Then she reaches over and pinches my cheek. “Sweetie, you do look rather fantastic with that baby in your arms. Better watch out, Patrick. She’s going to be wanting one of those of her own, I bet. First, though, forgive me for saying this, but I think y’all should have a wedding.”

“Me, too! Me, too!” says Fritzie.

Patrick takes a big bite of turkey. “Wow, this is delicious.”

My mother laughs.

“But you don’t have to get married to have a baby,” says Fritzie. “In case that’s what you’re talking about. I am Patrick’s kid, and he didn’t get married to my mom.”

I let out such a big sigh that Marco laughs and pokes me in the eye with a fat, wet finger.

“Well,” says my mother and helps herself to the mashed potatoes, “there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m beginning to think marriage isn’t such a great thing after all myself.

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