Leave Me

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” she told Todd and Sunita. “What about you?”

“Sunny’s parents will be enjoying the traditional Thanksgiving ritual of naturalized Americans living in Hyderabad,” Todd said. “And my family will be enjoying the traditional Thanksgiving ritual of the broken home.”

Sunita patted him on the shoulder. She turned back to Maribeth. “His parents split up five years ago. He’s not over it.”

“I’ll never be over it.” He sighed dramatically. “Dad’s spending the holiday with Barbie Wife and Mom is off with her new boyfriend in Altoona.” Todd winced. “I don’t want to go to Altoona.”

“I don’t blame you,” Maribeth said, even though she’d never been to Altoona and for all she knew it could be the Shangri-La of the Keystone State.

“We were thinking of inviting over a bunch of friends who don’t have anywhere to go,” Sunita said.

“An orphans’ dinner,” Maribeth said. She used to host them all the time, first with Elizabeth, and later, with Jason. Epic meals, with ten, fifteen, sometimes twenty people crowded into the loft. Raucous games of charades and Balderdash. Lots of wine. Everyone sprawled on the floor watching movies. A midnight buffet of seconds that decimated any hope of leftovers. (Jason had taken to roasting a second turkey the Friday after just to have sandwich fixings.)

“Yeah, an orphans’ dinner. I like that,” said Todd. “Only we don’t know how to cook a turkey.”

“And we thought if you weren’t doing anything,” Sunita said, “you could come, too.”

“And make the turkey?” Maribeth asked.

“No,” Todd said. “We don’t want you to give us the fish; we want you to teach us to fish, sensei.”

“And we want you to come, too,” Sunita added. “But we weren’t sure if you were, you know, an orphan.”

That morning, Janice had called with disappointing news. The Jewish adoption agency had no record of her. It was a minor setback, and yet it had unmoored Maribeth. For a moment, she had this panicky feeling that her existence had never been registered. “No, no, no. It just means you were adopted through some other avenue,” Janice had reassured. “We’ll check the other agencies and initiate that search with the Orphans’ Court.”

Maribeth contemplated Todd and Sunita’s invitation. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about the holiday, but as to the question of her orphanhood, that would appear to be a yes.

30

Janice was late. She’d told Maribeth to meet her at four by the fountain in the courtyard of some municipal building downtown, but at four-fifteen, the leaden sky was darkening and there was still no sign of Janice. Maribeth shivered, and scowled, trying not to stare at the couple on the bench opposite her, who were engaged in some serious heavy petting. She felt the pelt of the first icy raindrop, the weather a perfect reflection of her mood.

Janice arrived a half hour late, apologizing for her delay, which she attributed to a printer malfunction. Given that what she was printing had been Maribeth’s paperwork, Maribeth could hardly complain.

“Perfect timing, too,” Janice said. “It’s about to rain.”

“Yes,” Maribeth said, looking at the couple, who did not seem to mind the rain one little bit. “Let’s go inside.” She started toward the building but Janice steered her back toward the street.

“The Orphans’ Court is across the way,” she explained. “I wanted to meet here because it’s one of my favorite spots in the city. Isn’t it lovely?”

“Maybe when it’s not raining,” Maribeth said.

“Oh, dear. If you subtract points for rain in Pittsburgh, nothing will be lovely. The courtyard is so peaceful. You’d never guess it used to be a jail.”

Another couple entered the courtyard, holding hands and pausing to exchange a long, wet kiss.

“And what is it now?” Maribeth asked. “A hotel that rents by the hour?”

Janice laughed. “A courthouse, but the marriage registry is right around the corner. You know how young love is.”

“I seem to faintly recall,” Maribeth said.

More than faintly. There’d been a similarly kissy couple in front of her and Jason when they’d applied for their marriage license in New York. Maribeth had averted her eyes but she could not avert her ears: the lip-smacking, the cooing.

“What is it about lines that makes people lose all inhibition?” Maribeth had whispered to Jason.

“Relieves the boredom,” Jason had replied. “We can do it, too. Give us a kiss, Maribeth Brinkley.” He leaned in, lips puckered.

“Maribeth Klein,” she’d replied, pushing him away.

“There’s still time to change your mind. Maribeth Brinkley. Sounds nice.”

“Sounds Waspy.”

“When we were in college you said you couldn’t wait to get rid of your culturally confused name.”

Well, yes. It was a peculiar name. Klein, so Jewish. Maribeth, so goyish. At least she didn’t have it as bad as a girl from her Hebrew School named Christine Goldberg.

“That was then,” she said. “People know me now professionally as Maribeth Klein.”

“You can still be Maribeth Klein on the masthead.”

“I’m not taking your name!” Her voice was sharp, cracking through the echoey hall. Even the PDA couple came up for air to see what was going on. In a softer voice she added, “I mean, what if we split up? Then I’m stuck with it.”