“Mom! It’s only for a week.” An epic eye roll from Kenzie. “You’re acting as if she’s going to Antarctica for the next year.”
“You know how families have their little routines.” Shivani offered Oona an apologetic smile.
“I understand.” I wish. “So Mack told me Faye’s a hospital administrator, but he didn’t mention what you do for a living.”
“That’s because my job involves feet, which my son thinks is ‘the grossest thing ever.’ I’m a podiatrist. I work in the Brookline Foot and Ankle Center.”
My son. Oona’s polite expression faltered.
Shivani’s eyes sparked with a fresh idea. “Nancy, have you ever come in for treatment there? Perhaps that is where I have seen you?”
“Nope, I’ve never had any problems with my feet or ankles.” God, I hope this disguise holds up.
“Ugh, we’re about to eat here. Can we please not talk about feet?” Kenzie made retching sounds as he tore into a bread roll.
“See what I mean?” A weary chuckle. “So what about you, Nancy? How long have you been working at the record store?”
“Record-store-slash-coffee-shop.” Half mumbled through a mouthful of bread.
Dale also talked with his mouth full. Is that sort of thing hereditary?
“Please finish chewing your food before speaking,” Shivani admonished him.
Before Oona could reply, Faye returned carrying a porcelain soup tureen and announced, “Soup’s on! Literally.”
Kenzie and Shivani let out synchronized groans.
“Every time, Faye? Every time?” Mock exasperation from Shivani.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” Another secret smile and Faye came over to serve her gazpacho.
“Hey, Nancy, I forgot to tell you about this cool CD I found at Planet Records.” Kenzie waved his hands around animatedly, as if conducting an invisible orchestra comprised of his thoughts. Something else Dale used to do. “Sorry, I know they’re the competition, but I thought the cover was cool and the guy at the store said it was rare. Candy Stranger. You ever hear of her?”
“I haven’t,” Oona said. “And it’s okay, you’re allowed to shop in other record stores.”
“She was some kind of eighties one-hit wonder in Europe, but she sings in English. Always wore masks when she performed, so nobody knows what she looked like. Kind of a wacko, but the whole album is really good.”
Faye came around to Oona with the tureen. “Here you go,” she said, drawing up a brimming ladle.
As she navigated it over Oona’s bowl, Kenzie knocked over his water glass.
Faye missed the bowl and poured soup down Oona’s pink sweater.
“Oh crap, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. It wasn’t hot soup.” Oona dabbed at the stains with a linen napkin.
Scrambling to her feet, Shivani said, “Here, why don’t you take that off and I’ll put it in the wash. It’ll be dry by the time we’re done with dessert.”
Oona took off the sweater. The soup had seeped through to her black dress underneath, so she pulled up the sleeve to wipe off her clammy skin.
Kenzie spotted Oona’s tattoo. “Cool ink! What does M.D.C.R. mean?”
There was a tap on Oona’s shoulder. When she looked up, Shivani was staring at her, stone-faced. “I wonder if I could speak with you in the other room for a moment, Nancy.”
Oh fuck.
“What’s the problem?” Faye asked, still holding the gazpacho.
“God, Mom, it’s just a tattoo. It’s not like Nancy’s in a biker gang.” Exasperation tinged his voice as he took another peek at Oona’s wrist. “M.D.C.R.… those are my initials.”
The tureen slipped from Faye’s hands, spilled red across the table. Kenzie knocked his chair over as he stood to avoid getting soup on him.
The ruined sweater shook in Shivani’s hand as she held it back out to Oona. “I think you should leave.”
“What’s going on?” Kenzie asked.
“Mack, could you give us a minute? We need to have a word with your friend.” Faye put her hands on his shoulders to steer him away, but he ducked out of her grasp.
If she left now, Oona could prevent further potential damage. But she stood rooted in place. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stay away once I found out.”
Something hardened behind Shivani’s eyes as her mouth became a flat line, but there was also a glint of fear, vulnerability. “What nerve you have to come here, trying to fool us.”
Faye took a step toward Oona. “I’m sorry, but you need to go now. Madeleine should’ve told you—”
“What does Aunt Madeleine have to do with this?” Kenzie asked.
“You call her Aunt Madeleine?” Bitter injustice coursed through her.
“She’s not really my aunt, she’s—”
“Your grandmother.” The words a runaway train barreling off their track. Oona turned to Kenzie. “Madeleine is your grandmother. Madeleine is also my mother. My name isn’t Nancy Jones. It’s Oona Lockhart. I’m your birth mother.” Why wasn’t it more of a relief to confess? Why did it hurt so much?
“I could have you arrested for this,” Shivani said.
But Oona continued. “I named you Mackenzie. Except I think of you as Kenzie, not Mack. The D in your name is for Dale, your birth father. The C stands for Charles, my father.”
Kenzie’s gaze shifted between the three women, like watching a confusing, gory tennis match. “I don’t understand. I thought nobody knew who my mother was. Some policeman found me in a diner bathroom.”
“This is the garbage you’ve been telling him about me?”
“We needed to tell him something.” Her voice cold and brittle, Shivani gave Kenzie a beseeching look. “We were going to tell you the truth when you turned eighteen.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “How about you tell me the fucking truth now?”
“Language,” Faye said.
“Are you serious?” A look of disgust as he shook his head first at Faye, then at Oona. “So you’re not Nancy? Your name is Oona, and you’re my mother?”
“Your biological mom, yeah. Your father died before I gave birth to you and I couldn’t … I also have a condition … it affects my memory. I swear, I don’t even remember putting you up for adoption. I wasn’t able to raise you. And I wasn’t supposed to find out about you so soon.”
“Did Madeleine tell you?” Shivani gripped her braid with both hands, her knuckles white.
“No.” Despite her earlier anger toward her mother, Oona felt an unexpected urge to protect her. “She had nothing to do with this.”
Backing away until he was pressed against a china hutch, Kenzie’s eyes grew round and his mouth trembled. “Do you even know how fucked up this is? What am I supposed to believe here? Everyone lied to me. You”—a hand waved between Faye and Shivani—“lied to me about my birth mother. You’ve known who she is all along but didn’t tell me.” An accusing finger at Oona. “And you made up a name and dressed all gothy, so—what?—you could spy on me? Teach me about music and become my friend? Were you even gonna take me to the Garbage concert or just try to kidnap me?”