'Of course I won't.' Sylvia lowered her voice. 'Take a look at Pam's ears, though, that's all I'm saying.' She caressed one earlobe. 'I myself have such dainty ears.'
chapter sixty-nine
'Ding, ding, ding!' Pam tapped her spoon on the side of her water glass and got to her feet. 'Could I have your attention, please?'
Clementine should have known. There was going to be a speech. Of course there was. Her mother had been delivering speeches all her life
. Every birthday, every holiday, every minor academic, sporting or musical achievement merited a speech.
'Oh goodness, are you going to sing for us, Pam?' said Sylvia, turning in her chair to regard Pam. She winked at Clementine.
Clementine shook her head at her. She knew that Sylvia had been a terrible mother to Erika, that she had said and done unforgivable things over the years, and that was all in addition to the hoarding problem, but Clementine had always felt traitorously affectionate towards her. She enjoyed Sylvia's subversiveness, her outlandish comments, her meandering stories and snarky, sly little digs. In contrast, her own mother always seemed so staid and earnest, like a well-meaning minister's wife. Clementine especially enjoyed seeing Sylvia's outfits. She could just as easily look like a bohemian intellectual as a Russian princess or a homeless person. (Sadly, she'd chosen 'homeless person' for Erika's wedding, in order to make some long-forgotten, convoluted, pointless point.)
Tonight Sylvia looked like a lady who lunched. You would think she was going home to a glossy McMansion with a banker husband.
'I hope you'll allow me the indulgence of saying a few words,' said Pam. 'There are two people here tonight who can only be described as ...' She paused and took a deep, shaky breath. 'Quiet heroes.'
'Hear, hear,' said Clementine's dad too loudly. He'd been drinking more than usual. Erika's mother made him nervous. Once, she'd sat next to him at a school concert, and while discussing local politics she had apparently put her hand 'very close to his ... you know what' (this was how Pam described it), causing Clementine's dad to 'make the most peculiar sound, like a yelp'.
'Yes, that's what they are, quiet, unassuming, unsung heroes, but heroes nonetheless,' continued Pam.
'Awww.' Sylvia put her head to one side in an 'oh shucks' way, as if Pam were referring to her.
Erika rotated one shoulder as if she had a stiff neck. Oliver adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. The two of them looked profoundly uncomfortable. 'Why did you invite Erika's mother?' Clementine had asked Pam earlier that night.
'I thought it would be nice for Erika,' Pam said defensively. 'We haven't seen Sylvia for a long time, and her hoarding has got very bad again lately, so I thought it might be helpful.'
'But Erika hates her mother,' said Clementine.
'She doesn't hate her,' Pam had said, but she'd looked upset. 'Oh gosh, I probably shouldn't have invited her, you're right. Erika would have enjoyed the night more without her. You try to do the right thing, don't you? And it just doesn't always work out that way.'
Now she looked brightly around the room.
'They don't want accolades. They don't want medals. They probably don't even want this speech!' She gave a merry laugh.
'I want a medal,' said Holly.
'Shh, Holly,' said Sam, on Holly's other side. He had barely touched the food on his plate.
'Yet some things simply cannot go unsaid,' said Pam.
'But I do want a medal!' demanded Holly.
'There is no medal,' hissed Clementine.
'Well, why did Grandma say there was?'
'She didn't!' said Sam.
Erika's mother giggled deliciously.
'The debt of gratitude we owe Erika and Oliver is of such magnitude,' said Pam, 'that I cannot even begin to ...'
'Could I trouble you to pass the water, Martin?' said Sylvia in a loud whisper to Clementine's father.
Pam stopped and watched her husband half-stand and awkwardly place the jug of water next to Sylvia while avoiding any eye contact whatsoever.
'Sorry, Pam,' said Sylvia. 'Carry on. Lovely earrings by the way.'