Mordecai hefted his bulk up and ambled toward the kitchen door.
“Need to go out, tiny boy?” Lily called Mordecai by diminutive names, like “teensy lapdog” and
“my little Chihuahua.” The one-hundred-eighty-pound beast seemed to enjoy thinking of himself as adaintier creature.
Once Mordecai was in the backyard, she closed her notebook and her sketch pad. If the inspirationisn’t there, she had learned, there’s no forcing it. Still, she was going to have to get some inspiration fromsomewhere. Regardless of how the trial went, there would be a day in the not-so-distant future when shewould be kicked off the McGilly family gravy train.
She used her once-creative hands to make tea and wash dishes. What a fine little housewife I’mturning out to be, she thought.
Ben, of course, was out with his new/old obsession. The golfing date had gone well; Ben hadcome home so excited about spending the day with Ken that Lily had suggested that he change his nameto Barbie. “Besides,” she had said, “you don’t really want to go through life as a couple named Ben andKen.”
“Is it any more ridiculous than going through life as Lily McGilly?”
Lily had conceded his point. She also had to concede something else: Her sarcasm toward Ben’sgiddiness was due to nothing more than good, old-fashioned jealousy. It didn’t bother her that her ersatzhusband was stepping out on her; she didn’t give a shit about that.
It was Ben’s happiness that drove her crazy, that made her think of her first days with Charlotte,when their love was green and about to blossom. That kind of joy was the complete opposite of what shewas feeling these days. Tennyson may have believed that “ ’Tis better to have loved and lost than never tohave loved at all,” but Lily wasn’t sure.
Of course, there wasn’t anything for Lily to be jealous of yet. Neither Ben nor Ken had admittedto the other that he was gay. Ben said they had each “dropped a few hairpins” during their game of golf,but being in a public place, neither of them had let his hair down entirely. Today, though, they weremeeting in a more private setting. Ken had invited Ben to spend the afternoon at his house, listening toBrit pop and then eating sushi for dinner, which Ken had prepared from ingredients he had bought at theinternational farmer’s market in Atlanta. Lily had opined to Ben that he was home free: straight whitemen don’t make sushi.
Lily dried the last dish and sipped her tea. Just then, her eardrums were pierced by a high-pitchedcry of pain. She dropped her cup into the sink and ran to Mimi’s room, only to find the little girl resting