Chapter 16: The Lasagna

On Sunday afternoon the apartment was full of people again, and this time I had not planned a single one of them.

The tall bridesmaid came first, with the stack of invitations under one arm.

"I said I'd bring these back or burn them," she said. "I'd like to know which."

"Keep them a few more weeks."

"Then I'll keep them." She put them on the table and looked at me. "Your mother called me yesterday. She said you were eating cereal for dinner."

"I was not."

"You were," my mother called from the kitchen.

The second bridesmaid came in behind her with a grocery bag, and the coworker came after that with a lasagna she had made at six that morning.

I looked at the dish.

"It's not a casserole," my coworker said. "I looked it up. A casserole has a topping. This has noodles."

I laughed, and then I was crying, and then I was laughing again, and the three of them stood around me in the hall with their coats still on.

My mother's phone rang in the kitchen.

She came out holding it flat in front of her, on speaker.

"Ansley, it's the church circle. All of us are on the line."

"Hello, honey," a chorus said.

There were seven of them, all talking at once, women who had watched me carry the Christmas pageant lamb.

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