Page 24 of Fathers of the Bride
I continued to smile. I mean, what else could I do? Lissa was right. She and Pudge looked almost exactly alike. As did their husbands—I had no clue who was currently married to whom. I’d completely lost the thread.
In fact, all four of them look disturbingly alike. They could have been siblings. Which made the afternoon feel like a reality show gone terribly wrong. Wait, the whole point of reality showsisto go terribly wrong, isn’t it? Well, this one had gone even wrong-er.
The wind picked up, so we went into the house. Their living room was aggressively white. White slipcovered sofas, white area rugs, white walls, white drapes, a white ginger jar on a white pine console table. Even the artwork was white.
Above the spotless white fireplace hung a giant canvas that was tone on tone, white paint on top of white paint. A pallet knife had been used for a lot of it, though there was also brush work. I couldn’t make out—
“Isn’t it a scandal?” Pudge asked, sipping a straight-up martini.
“Is it?” I asked, wondering how white paint on top of white paint could be a scandal?
“You don’t see it yet, do you?”
I looked again, trying to look harder and I still—
“Are those knees?” I asked.
“They are.”
“And these, lines, they’re thighs. And this—”
“Exactly,” Pudge said.
Unnecessarily, I said, “That’s a woman’s hoo-ha.”
“Very good,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d recognize it. But then, porn is everywhere, isn’t it? Lissa will try to tell you she sat for the painting. But she didn’t. It was me.”
“So, we’re looking at your hoo-ha,” I said, turning my back on the painting. I mean, I couldn’t stand there and look at Pudge’s pudendum, not with the woman standing right next to me.
“So, um, Avery is an only child?” I asked to change the subject.
“He is. That’s part of why we’re all so close. We have to share him. Kelly’s an only child, too?”
“Yes. The adoption process was challenging. Andy and I didn’t want to go through it again. Besides, Kelly always felt like enough.”
Lissa was back with another tray of appetizers. “Onion jam on crostini.” Then she whispered, “From Gelson’s.”
“You don’t need to tell people that,” Pudge said.
“I’m sure he’d know.”
Actually, I wouldn’t have. It was quite good.
“I hope you’re not devastated that your ex is bringing his boyfriend. We did offer to have separate events.” That was Pudge, clearly stirring the pot.
“It’s fine.”
“Then you’ve met before?” Lissa asked.
“As a matter of fact, we haven’t. It’ll be fine though.”
“Meeting the man who stole your husband is always a challenge,” Pudge said.
Technically, she was wrong, but I decided not to—
“I didn’t speak to Pudge for ages after she stole my husband.”
“And I didn’t speak to Lissa for ages after she stole my husband.”
