Page 108 of The Rebound
“No?”
“No,” I say. “I think you’re the ship.”
“And I thinkthat’sthe nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She peers slyly into her almost empty glass. “You still want to make amends?”
“All week if that’s what it takes.” And I slide out of the booth to get another round.
23
“What are you doing?”
Louise spins around, clutching the mascara tube as if I just caught her doing drugs.
“Are you putting on makeup?” I ask.
“Just a little bit,” she says, defensive as she turns back to the mirror. “I wear makeup.”
“No, you don’t.” I take in her white blouse, the gold pendant at her neck. “You’re not getting dressed up for Mam and Dad, are you?”
She doesn’t answer. With the doctor confirming she’s a little over eight weeks, she’s decided to tell our parents about the pregnancy. It’s still early but she said she doesn’t want to wait any longer, reasoning that if they were in Clonard, they’d know. But judging by how she’s acting right now, you might think she’s about to tell them she burned the house down.
“I don’t know why you’re so nervous,” I say. “They’re going to be thrilled. And you want to tell them.”
“I do. But you know what they’re like,” she says as I perch on the end of her bed. “They’re going to want to come back.”
“For the birth of the first grandchild? Yeah, I’d hope so.”
“Not for the birth. Obviously, I want them there for that. I mean they’ll want to come backnow. As in tomorrow.”
I start to laugh when I realize she’s right. “Oh my God, they will.”
“A few weeks when the baby’s born would be great. I’m going to ask Mam to do just that but…”
“She’ll want to be here full-time,” I finish. “Immediately.”
“Exactly,” she says, applying a thick coat of mascara. “And I want to nip that idea in the bud so there’s no miscommunication. Therefore I need to look like I have everything under control, which means I need to look in control.”
“She says, poking herself in the eye.”
Louise glares at me as she wipes a smudge away.
“When are you going to tell Tomasz’s folks?”
“Not for a while. We might go over and tell them in person.” She makes a face at her reflection. “Why are my lashes clumping?”
“Because your makeup is cheap. Why don’t you use mine?”
“That’s so unhygienic.”
“We share a toilet.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not putting the toilet in my eye.”
“You’re not supposed to put the mascara in your eye either, you idiot.”
She lets out a quiet screech and dumps the wand back on the dressing table.
“Oh yeah,” I say, as it bounces to the floor. “You’re totally in control.”
