All My Mother's Lovers by Ilana Masad

Author:Ilana Masad [Masad, Ilana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-05-26T00:00:00+00:00

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THE INDIAN RESTAURANT is small but packed from the moment Maggie arrives until she leaves. The early diners are locals, most of them white, old, and dressed in well-worn jeans and T-shirts. They give her—with her nose stud, short hair, and black clothes—surreptitious but disapproving looks. Still, the naan is fresh and warm when it arrives at her table and the tandoori chicken is delicious, just below the level of spice she can’t handle. With its heat in her stomach, she agrees to her server’s recommendation of a cooling mango sweet lassi as dessert.

From her table in the corner, she witnesses the elderly crowd leave and the slightly younger, later set arrives, ordering more alcohol, talking more exuberantly. The place seems to be family owned and staffed, at least two of the servers sharing a crook in their nose that appears similar to that of the older man who greeted her at the door. She tries to imagine what it would be like, working with her family. There’s nothing that all four of them were ever passionate about together, except maybe the first season of the eventually awful crime show about twenty-four hours spent largely in and around Los Angeles, and sitting down to an episode of TV together once a week barely counts as an interest, even. Not that Maggie has ever really had a passion that has lasted for longer than a few weeks, when it got too hard to play the guitar or too boring to keep knitting. Not like Lucia and her art, or Allison and sex education, or Gina and sea-life preservation, or Sarah and cross-country running.

When they first started spending time together, Lucia seemed a little baffled by this. She didn’t seem to know anyone—including her family—who didn’t have some consistent, long-standing passion project that was always in the works. “I guess I’m just boring,” Maggie had said as they stood outside of the Crack Fox, smoking, on one of the first really warm evenings in spring. But Lucia said this was patently ridiculous. A couple of months later, officially girlfriends, Maggie had asked Lucia, “Does it bother you? That I’m not, like, artistic? That I just have a regular job and no garage band?” Lucia had laughed, and Maggie, who was spooning her, could feel the vibration where her sternum pressed against Lucia’s back.

“No, Mags,” Lucia said. “I’ve been with plenty of artists.” She turned around so she was facing Maggie in bed. “And let me tell you, we’re overrated.” Maggie smiled, relieved, and Lucia kissed her cheek. “I like how stable you are, you know? Like, not just the job,” she clarified, “but in who you are. You’re living your damn life, you know? Without trying to always prove something to everyone you meet. It’s refreshing, honestly.” Lucia turned over again and nestled her body into Maggie’s. “Plus, you let me be the little spoon. You make me feel safe.”

Remembering this, Maggie can’t help but wonder. What’s to

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