The Neallys

Suze: Eileen Neally

Suze: Eileen Neally“Maybe she’ll adopt you.” It was Annie repeating a comment she’d often made at home when I reported on yet another day of iciness in my own parents’ presence, in contrast to the ease I always enjoyed with Annie’s folks. But when Annie said it in reference to Kerry’s Mom as we walked from the Subway on the last leg of our trip home after finishing the day with Kerry and her Mom, it took a beat longer than it used to for me to respond with “I wish.”

The thought was different, the idea of being with Kerry and her Mom, from when it was just the prospect of hanging out with Annie and her folks. I realized that Kerry had become my best friend, displacing Annie in that role, and was something more as well. I also had, though, a strange attraction to Eileen.

While I was processing this and a few days after our Saturday adventure at Kerry’s place, I got a call from my Aunt.

“Baby”—that’s what she calls me—”I just received a call from Kerry’s Mom. Do you know anything about that?”

“A little.”

Kerry told me that she had given her Mom much of my Aunt’s backstory when her Mom told her that she planned on getting together with Mary. So I felt it appropriate to explain to my Aunt in broad strokes Kerry’s and her Mom’s situation, that Kerry’s Mom was a widow and recovering alcoholic and had been completely under the radar with anyone since her husband died six or seven years ago. According to Kerry, Eileen’s last drink was a G-and-T on the day of the funeral and she was an AA regular for a while. I said “whatever you do, do not let her know that you know any of this. I’m just giving you some background. Don’t worry if you have wine or something because she’s okay with it—remember we had wine when they came over on Saturday—but I think it’s something you should know if a friendship develops.”

I don’t know whether I should have told her any of this. It kind of came out because it was what I immediately thought of when I thought of Eileen, almost like her being gorgeous popped into my brain when I thought of her. I mean, I knew she was lonely and had no idea about how wonderful I found her, but for some reason my knowing about her drinking made her even more wonderfully human.

And when I hit END on my phone after telling my Aunt that I thought it would be great for Eileen and for Mary, and Betty and their kids, to see Eileen, I lowered my hand holding the phone and blindly looked ahead of me and thought again about Eileen. And then I thought about the fact that I was thinking about Eileen.