Charlie’s birthday falls on what is forecasted to be the hottest day of the year. After Martin’s last e-mail on the subject, I managed to grit my teeth and give up the fight to have the party at Bouncy Land, settling instead for putting together ten goody bags filled with a variety of tacky, easily breakable loot his little preschool friends will adore. Rubber balls, plastic sunglasses, toy cars. And candy. Lots and lots of candy.
“Just do what you can do,” Nadine told me. “Being there for your son is the most important thing. Not where the party is held or who makes the cake.”
“Oh, I’m still making a cake,” I said.
“Didn’t you tell me Martin insisted Alice was making it?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re making another one?”
“Yep.”
“Without telling him?”
“Yep.”
Nadine shook her head, but smiled. “Kind of ornery, aren’t you?”
I smiled, too. “Maybe just a little.” Charlie told me what kind of cake he wanted and he was going to get it. I make it for him every year. Case closed.
I invite Kristin and her kids to come along to the party, along with my mom, Jess, Derek, and my nephews. I feel like I’ll need protection of some sort, being among the Mommy and Me Mafia again, though after what happened in the coffee shop, I didn’t invite Susanne. My stomach twists at the thought of what the other women say about me, the judgments that are made, but Andi encourages me to try and let those thoughts go.
“What other people think of you is none of your business,” she says. “You can’t change it, you can’t control it. The only thing you can control is your reaction to it. Focus on Charlie. Take lots of deep breaths. Have a place where you can go take a break from the party if you need to—your car or something. Keep your friends close and you’ll be fine.”
I follow her advice and spend the drive over to Alice’s house taking huge yoga breaths. In through my nose . . . and out through my mouth. I imagine the tension I feel releasing and traveling outside my body through every breath. I sit in my car, continuing to breathe until I see Jess and Derek pull up with the boys. I step out onto the parking strip and she comes over to hug me.
“You ready?”
I pull back from her embrace and give her a big smile. “As I’ll ever be. Can Derek carry the box with the goody bags? I need to get the cake.”
“Sure.” She calls him over and he takes the large box out of my trunk. Together we walk up and around the side of the house to the backyard, where the party is being held. Marley and Jake immediately race off to find their cousin, who I see already splashing around in a sizeable wading pool. He sees me and waves. He is wearing Spider-Man swim trunks and Spider-Man goggles. Of course.
“Hi, Mommy! It’s my birthday!” He flaps his hands in the water, emphasizing the excitement he feels.
“I know, sweetie! I’ll be over in a minute.”
“Okay! I’ll be right here!”
The sun is a brilliant, roasting ball in the sky. The heat lies over my bare shoulders like an electric blanket. Marley and Jake, wisely dressed only in swim trunks, jump into the pool with Charlie. Martin and Alice are nowhere to be seen.
“Come with me into the house?” I ask Jess. I still can’t help but feel apprehensive about being alone with Alice for very long. I want a witness in case she decides to dangle a glass of merlot in front of my face.
“Of course. Hey, honey,” she says to Derek. “Why don’t you set those goody bags on each of the plates on the picnic table.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Derek says.
Jess and I go up the back steps into the kitchen, where I see Alice at the table, putting finishing touches on a large white sheet cake decorated with bright yellow sunflowers.
“That’s very pretty,” I say. A ten-year-old girl would love it.
“Thank you,” she says, looking over with a smile. The smile disappears when her eyes register the dark chocolate Bundt cake I carry. It’s covered in fudgy frosting and crumbled-up Oreos. The middle is filled with gobs of gummy worms, which spill up and over the top of the cake in a slightly gross, squirmy fashion. A Spider-Man action figure is posed on the top of the cake, wrestling with two gummy worms in a battle for his life.
“What’s that?” she asks. Her voice is flat.
“A cake,” Jess says with a smile. She loved that I decided to bring it despite Martin telling me not to. “Can we put it in the fridge so it doesn’t melt?”
Alice’s face is like stone. “I’m not sure if there’s room.”
“We’ll make room,” Jess says cheerfully. I don’t think I’ve ever loved my sister more than in this moment. Talk about ornery. She steps over to the refrigerator and shuffles a few things around before reaching for the cake and sliding it onto a shelf. “There! Perfect.”
“Where’s Martin?” I ask.
“He’s finishing wrapping presents in my bedroom,” Alice says. “He’ll be down in a minute.”
Jess and I go back outside, where Derek is now spraying down squealing children with water from the garden hose. Brittany and Renee have arrived along with Julia, the woman I’d met at Wholly Grounds back in May. Their children are already in the pool, too. I plaster a grin across my face and decide to force myself to go say hello. Just as I’m about to move toward them, Kristin steps through the gate with Riley.
“Hey, glad you found it okay,” I say. “Where’s Liza?”
“Home with Grandma. Apparently, attending a little boy’s birthday party wasn’t high on her list of priorities.”
“Ah.” I smile at Riley. “I’m glad you came, sweetie.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” Riley says, standing shyly next to his mother, still holding her hand.
“Why don’t you go play in the pool?” Kristin says, giving him a little nudge.
I crouch down next to Riley and point out my son. “See the boy in the Spider-Man getup? That’s the birthday boy.” I call out his name. “Charlie? This is Riley, my friend Kristin’s son.”
At the sound of my voice, Charlie stops playing and waves vigorously. “Hi, Riley! Do you like water fights?”
A bright expression falls across Riley’s face. “Yeah!” Any hesitance he felt seemingly forgotten, he races over to join the other children in the pool.
“Hi,” my sister says to Kristin. “I’m Jessica, Cadence’s sister.” She extends an arm to shake hands.
“Hi,” Kristin says. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I should have introduced you.”
“Yeah, especially since I’m so shy,” Jess teases me. She shakes her head a little as she watches her husband gleefully wield the hose. “I’d better go over and make sure he doesn’t get them too worked up. It’s all fun and games until somebody gets excited enough to pee in the pool.”
Kristin laughs, and then reaches over to run her hand down my arm. “You okay?”
I put my hand over hers and give it a quick squeeze. “So far, so good. Just don’t leave me alone.”
“You got it.”
“Let me introduce you to the Mommy Mafia,” I say under my breath. I have told her about my run-in with them at Wholly Grounds and she vowed not to allow that kind of crap to happen again. We step over to the other group of women, who all give us big smiles. Only Julia’s appears genuine. I introduce Kristin to her first, then to Brittany and Renee.
“Where’s Martin?” Brittany asks me. She wears a sleeveless maternity top, which only partially conceals the basketball-size bump of her pregnancy.
“Inside, finishing a couple of things, I think. You look great, by the way. How far along are you now?” Kill her with kindness.
“Six and a half months. The heat is killing me.”
“How are you doing?” Julia asks me. “We didn’t get a chance to chat that day at the coffee shop. It was so sweet of you to invite Cody to come, too.”
“I think Martin organized the party, didn’t he, Cadence?” Brittany points out.
Kristin shoots her the stink eye. Brittany doesn’t miss it.
I take a deep breath. “He did the invites, yes. I’m responsible for the five-pound goody bags, though.”
Julia laughs. “So you’re the one to blame for the sugar high Cody’s going to suffer from later.”
“Especially after you see the chocolate mud cake I made. With gummy worms.”
“Oh, boy,” Julia says, “he’s going to love that. He begged for one on his last birthday, but I’m more of a store-bought-cake kind of mom.”
“It’s pretty simple,” I say. “I’d be happy to get you the recipe.”
“I’m not sure if having a recipe will help my baking-gene deficiency, but I appreciate it. Thanks.”
Alice and Martin descend from the back of the house carrying a tray of hot dogs for the kids and Polish sausages for the adults. Derek relinquishes his hold on the hose to help Martin get the grill started for lunch. The kids race back and forth between the picnic tables for handfuls of chips and pretzels and hunks of watermelon, screeching and hollering when they jump back into the pool. Jess polices the crazy scene while Kristin and I chat with Julia. Brittany and Renee wander off to sit in the shade of a large pear tree in the corner of the yard. Another couple of Charlie’s friends show up and join the fun in the pool. For a moment, I almost manage to feel normal. I’m just a mother at a birthday party, not an alcoholic stuck in a custody dispute for her son.
My mother finally arrives just as the kids are sitting down to eat. Despite the heat, she is still in her workclothes—a pair of linen slacks and a short-sleeved, white button-down shirt.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, coming over to kiss my cheek. “An appointment ran over. Stubborn wisdom tooth.”
“Is there any other kind?” I say. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Nana!” Charlie cries out. “Where’s my present?”
“Charles Sutter!” I reprimand him. “Are those good manners?”
My son hangs his head for a moment. “No.”
“What do you say?”
“Thank you for coming to my party, Nana.”
“Of course, sweetie. And your present is in the driveway.”
“Awesome!” Charlie exclaims, and races off toward the fence. Forgetting their lunches, all the other children follow, squealing like a bunch of baby pigs.
“Good God,” Brittany says. “Too bad I’m pregnant. I need a drink.”
“Me, too,” Renee agrees. “I’ll have an extra one for you.”
“There are beers in the cooler,” Martin says. “Derek, you want a beer?”
My brother-in-law shakes his head. “No, thanks. I’ll pass. Need to keep on my toes around this many monsters. Can’t let them get the upper hand.” He winks at me and I give him a grateful look.
Kristin squeezes my hand. I wonder if this is uncomfortable for her, too, watching other people drink. I know where alcohol will take me, and truly, I don’t want to drink; in fact, my stomach gets queasy just thinking about it. But I can’t help but be a little jealous that other people can drink and I can’t. It’s a sizzling-hot summer day. My mind tells me a Corona with a squeeze of lime would sure taste good.
“Nana got me a car!” Charlie screams from the fence. “A car, a car, a car!”
I swing around to face my mother. “You got him a what?”
She gives me a closed-lipped smile before speaking. “A Spider-Man jeep. Child-size and battery-powered. He can zip around the playground.”
“Geez, Mom.”
“Oh, stop. He’ll love it. And so will you.”
“He should keep it at my house, don’t you think, Sharon?” Martin asks. “Since he’s there more?”
“No, Martin. I think he should keep it at his mother’s.”
“It sounds dangerous,” Alice chimes in from her seat at the picnic table. “What if he falls over?”
“Then he’ll learn to get back up,” I say.
“Not a bad skill to teach a child,” Jess says. “You don’t want him relying on his mama to rescue him for the rest of his life.”
I have to turn away quickly so Alice won’t see me smirk at my sister’s not-so-subtle dig. Derek’s shoulders shake in an effort to conceal his amusement. I don’t look at Martin, but I’m pretty sure he’s fuming.
“I think I’ll go check this new ride out,” I say, stepping away from the group. I’m halfway to the front yard when I realize Julia has followed me.
“Cadence?” she calls out, and I stop. The kids come tromping back toward us, running to the table to finish their lunch.
“It’s so cool, Mommy!” Charlie says as he races past.
Julia and I both laugh. “He’s not amped up or anything,” I say.
“Typical, right?” she says. “I thought Cody was going to turn inside out, he was so excited on his last birthday.” She pauses and looks like she’s trying to figure out how to say something more. After a moment, she finally does. “So, I hope this isn’t totally out of line, but I wanted to talk to you about that day in the coffee shop when we first met.”
I bob my head once, suddenly apprehensive. “Okay . . .”
“Brittany and Renee told me what’s going on with the custody dispute.”
My heart seizes in my chest. I didn’t think anyone would bring the custody issue up at the party. Not really. I thought I could skate by on sheer determination. Or maybe it was denial.
“Oh,” I start, but then don’t know what else to say.
She gives me a soft smile. “I just want to tell you my sister-in-law has been in recovery for eight years now, and she’s the best mother I know. She wasn’t always, but she is now. My brother stuck with her through some pretty tough times.”
“Oh,” I say again, and something inside me relaxes.
“And again, I hope you don’t mind, but I told her I met you and she said to give you her number, in case you ever want to talk. She’s in the program.” She hands me a piece of paper.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it from her, then glance over toward the rest of the party. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we should probably get back. It’s about time for cake.”
Back at the table, we sing a hearty rendition of “Happy Birthday” to Charlie and the kids finish off the messy mud cake in about two minutes flat, leaving most of Alice’s cake on the table. I thought I would enjoy this, but I don’t. I feel oddly bad about bringing mine, even though Charlie was thrilled to see it and asked to have his candles nestled among the gummy worms instead of the sunflowers. I have a big piece of Alice’s cake, as do the rest of the adults.
“It’s really good,” I tell her and everyone murmurs in agreement. It’s a fantastically light almond cake with thick, homemade raspberry filling. The kind of authentic European, melt-in-your-mouth confection she spent years creating at her bakery.
“Not a little boy’s favorite, it would seem,” she says, shrugging.
“Yeah, but they’d devour a box of sugar cubes if I left it on the table,” I say. “What do they know?”
Martin hugs his mother. “Cadence is right, Mom. It’s the best cake I’ve ever eaten.”
Alice smiles, leaning her head against his chest. “Not the best.”
“The best,” Martin insists. He mouths the words “thank you” to me over the top of his mother’s head.
I give him a quick smile in return and experience another brief flutter of hope. Maybe we can do this. Maybe after everything is said and done, we can find a way to be friends.
