Birthright by Judith Arnold

mother.
    “Hi, Tina. How are you?”
    “I’m good.” The waitress turned to Lily. “You must be Lily.”
    Lily had no idea who the waitress was. She looked to be in her early twenties at the most, a skinny pixieish girl with curly brown hair barely contained by an array of silver barrettes. Lily knew better than to be surprised that this total stranger knew who she was, though. She forced a polite smile, said, “Hi,” and then buried her nose in the menu.
    She wasn’t terribly hungry. But since lunch had been her idea, she felt obliged to order something. She asked for a tuna sandwich, and her mother requested a spinach salad with the dressing on the side.
    As soon as the waitress was gone, Lily gave her mother another look. “Dressing on the side?” she asked, not bothering to conceal her surprise.
    “I’m trying to cut back on my fat consumption,” her mother explained. “Cholesterol and all that.”
    Lily recalled the shopping bag that now sat on the banquette next to her mother. She’d bought something at the drugstore and she’d looked worried. “You don’t have a cholesterol problem, do you?”
    “No, not at all.” Her mother brushed Lily’s concerns away with a flick of her hand. “It just doesn’t hurt to eat sensibly.”
    “Did Dad tell you to watch your cholesterol?”
    “Well, no, but you don’t have to be a doctor to know about the importance of a healthy diet, Lily. Idon’t need him to tell me I should watch my fat intake.”
    Lily detected a hint of defensiveness in her mother’s voice, a hint others weren’t likely to notice. She’d learned at one of the Al-Anon meetings she’d attended that people who lived with alcoholics usually developed a special radar about their loved ones. They sensed trouble before trouble arrived, the way some people could sense an imminent storm from the pain in their joints. They learned to read the signs, even invisible signs, so they could protect themselves when the storm clouds opened up.
    A storm was brewing inside her mother. Lily felt badly about being so caught up in her misery and self-loathing that she’d neglected to notice what was going on beyond her own little world. “Mom, are you all right?” she asked, leaning forward and searching her mother’s face for an answer she suspected her mother might not be willing to share.
    “Of course I’m all right,” her mother said even more defensively. “I’m fine.”
    “I saw you coming out of the drugstore, and now you’re not eating salad dressing.”
    Her mother chuckled—unconvincingly, Lily thought. “I’ve discovered that skipping salad dressing makes me feel better. And for heaven’s sake, I think I’m allowed to go to the drugstore without being sick.”
    “What did you buy?” Lily asked, her laugh as forced as her mother’s had been. “Something wonderful? Chocolates to reward yourself for skipping the dressing?”
    This time her mother’s laughter was genuine.“Actually, I bought this cream.” She pulled an elegant porcelain jar from the bag and showed it to Lily.
    “Gloria Hoff told me about this moisturizer. She said it’s really lovely.”
    Erases visible lines, the fancy gold script on the jar read. Makes you look years younger. “Anti-aging cream?”
    “It’s a moisturizer,” her mother emphasized.
    “With a sunscreen. Gloria says it makes her skin feel very soft.” She tucked the jar back in the bag.
    A new hairstyle. Moisturizing cream. No salad dressing. It dawned on Lily that her mother had decided to tackle her impending sixtieth birthday aggressively.
    Before she could question Eleanor further, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Twisting around, she saw Grace Pennington leaning over the back of the banquette, a huge grin on her face. “Lily!” Grace exclaimed, reaching around to give Lily a hug. “I can’t believe it! It’s so good to see you! How are you?” Without waiting for an invitation, Grace dropped onto the seat next to Lily and gave her