Page 80 of Enemies to Lobsters
“Can I say something?” I say loudly, hoping Marlow’s phone carries my voice over the noise so that Ike hears me.
“Everyone shut up,” Marlow bellows. “Diana has something to say.” She lowers her voice, pretending to whisper, her voice away from the phone when she hisses, “Remember. Fifty percent less weird. We can do this.” She clears her throat after her little pep talk. “Okay, Di. We’re all ears.”
I have to picture Ike, because if I imagine a diner full of Cape Georgeana’s weirdest, I’ll lose my nerve. Instead, I remember how it felt to be held by Ike during the storm last night and the way my heart feels safe and whole when he comes in the door from work. I can’t believe I ever thought I could live without him.
“Diana?” It’s him. He’s closer now, like Marlow gave him the phone. He leaves me on speaker, though. “Did you hear all of that?”
“I-I did. I have something to say, too.” I gather my nerve, sucking in a deep breath. I’m summoning my inner weirdo, like Shelly suggested. I’m committed. “Is everyone listening?”
There’s a smattering of yeahs and yeses, and one “not by choice.” I’ll take it.
Okay. I’m doing this. “I want this to be real, and I want you to be my husband for a long time—as long as you’ll take me.” My eyes are welling with tears, and the strain in my voice is makingit obvious. I might as well go all in. “Oh, and I’m in love with you. I want to live here. With you.”
“With me?” That wasn’t Ike, and better not have been Speedo Kevin.
“With Ike, dingus,” Marlow mutters. “Diana is in love with Ike.”
It’s chaos on the other end of the line. Everyone is talking at once.
Maybe I should’ve done this in person.
“Di?” Ike calls over the noise.
That man is my husband, and I could not be happier about it. “I’m here.”
He tries to talk through the cacophony, but it’s impossible. Eventually he shouts over the noise, “I’m in. I’ll find you tonight—”
The line goes dead. I laugh. Did that really just happen? I stare at the blank phone screen for a second, then shake my head and unbuckle my seat belt. Ike—my real husband—is going to find me tonight. In the meantime, I need to check on my grandparents. By the time I tried to call them last night, the storm had knocked out the phones. Before that, the last time I saw them was at the reception.
My hand freezes on the doorknob. I haven’t spoken to my grandparents about what my mom said. The drama my mother brought with her was overshadowed by trying to keep my head above literal water, but I still have questions.
There’s no chance that what my mom said was true, right? Would my grandparents have pushed her out of my life? It fits the pattern I’ve seen, but it doesn’t sit right.
I’m grateful for the speaker phone call with Ike and all of Marlow’s Diner. I’m in the mood to speak my mind and clear the air. I turn the knob and head straight for my grandpa’s office.
“Grandpa?” I call through the house. I’m not angry, but my tone is tense. I need more information. “Grandma?”
“Diana?” My grandpa’s voice comes from the direction of the den. “We’re in here. I gather you weathered the storm okay?”
“See? I told you she would be fine, Charles. She was with Ike,” my grandma gloats.
Nice, Grandma. “I need to talk to you about something important,” I call toward them as if they’re going to hide from me or run away.
I find my grandparents sitting together on the overstuffed couch watching TV. They’re sitting so close. So relaxed. It’s so unlike them.
“I need to—” I freeze when I spot Tom Selleck on the screen. The mustache scrambles my thoughts. Geez, this guy is everywhere. “I need to… Um, what are you watching?”
Grandma beams. “Three Men and a Little Lady. We’re hunkering down.” She wiggles her shoulders and pats the cushion beside her, inviting me to join their mid-day movie party. “Have a seat, Didi. What did you want to talk about? Pause it for me, will you Charles?”
I lower myself slowly onto the couch, smoothing my hands down my day-old jeans. Now that I’m sitting here looking at her warm, brown eyes it’s hard to believe that my grandma would ever threaten my mother. But I can’t live my life wondering if I missed out on a relationship with my mom because of some manipulative ultimatum they might’ve given her. I have to ask.
“What is it, Diana?” My grandma sits up. “You have me worried.”
I take a deep breath. “I heard something, and I need to know if it’s true,” I spit out in a rush. More deep breaths.
The clock ticks on the mantel. My grandma looks to my grandpa for help. He mumbles something that sounds like “I knew it would come to this.” My stomach jumps into my throat.
“It can’t be true.” I shake my head. I jump to my feet, pacing in front of the couch. My eyes feel hot, but I blink away the feeling. “I can’t believe you.”
