Элисон Скотч - The Theory of Opposites

I think that we need to convene to discuss the current mental status, not to mention marital status, of our parents. I suspect that dad is finally having his psychotic break, and that he is taking Mom down with him. Oliver, a quick check of Twitter tells me that you are in New York City — I sent you a tweet, did you not see it? — and while it would have been nice to get a personal hello, I expected nothing else. However, since you are here, and we are all in the same city, perhaps we can meet at the Pain Quot on Madison on Monday for lunch — the office is closed to repair the air conditioning system. Jeremy will watch the kids. Though they would love to see their uncle, too.

Please let me know.

Raina

Raina Chandler-Farley, esq

Partner

Williams, Russell and Chance, LLP

email: rcf@wrc.com

Email from: Oliver Chandler

To: Willa Chandler-Golden; Raina Chandler-Foley

Subject: re: Our Parents

Darling sisters! Namaste! How are your glorious lives treating you these days? I hope with a little touch of beauty and a lot of touches of love. Indeed I am in town attending to some unexpected personal business, and nothing would make me happier than to break bread with the two of you this Monday. I am now a raw food vegan (I cannot wait to tell you what this has done for my physical and mental form!), but I am sure that I can get something at Pain Quot, as a quick search of my Vegan For Life! app gives them three stars and calls them a “friend to the local vegetable.” I am staying downtown at the Tribeca Grand, but I will make my way up there by 2 p.m. Save a bench in the sun for me! Namaste!

Email from: Willa Chandler-Golden

To: Raina Chandler-Foley; Oliver Chandler

Subject: re: re: Our Parents

Raina – you have Twitter? Why am I always the last to know?

Raina and I arrive on time. (Of course.) Oliver, however, does not. (Of course.) I expected Le Pain Quotidian to be empty at 2 p.m. on a Monday, but it seems that there are plenty of other unemployeds out in the world too. I nod at them as I weave through.

Hi, yes, I lost my job too.

Hello there, is the Ellen Show the highlight of your day as well?

“Oliver keeps to a world clock,” I say to Raina as we settle ourselves at the farmhouse table in the back corner. She rolls her eyes and goes back to typing angrily on her Blackberry. I peruse the menu and wonder if I’m someone who would enjoy quinoa or just start eating it because it’s part of the trend, and then watch Raina for a second. Her Botox has warded off her scowl, but still, her face is pressed downward, her lips tense, her chin drawn. For someone who is one of only three female partners at her firm, she doesn’t seem to enjoy her job all that much.

“Do you like your job?”

“Huh?” she answers, still typing.

“Your job? Do you like being a lawyer?”

“What?” She looks at me vaguely. “What? Oh, I don’t know. Sure. It’s fine.”

She returns her attention to her phone.

I order a mint lemonade (it sounds like a healthy match to my quinoa) from the waitress, and Raina asks for a double espresso. Finally, she beats her Blackberry at its own game and tosses it across the table.

“You would think that we were saving lives or something here,” she exclaims.

“Speaking of saving lives!” a voice booms from behind her, and we both look up. The legendary Oliver Chandler, homeopath, vegan, super-yogi to the stars, and current resident of Mumbai, in the flesh. He is practically glowing, literally, like a glistening of sweat is encasing every inch of his skin, but somehow it adds to his handsomeness, like he intuited just the right amount of sheen for the afternoon and his body complied. His brown hair is richer than mine, his eyes darker too. Jesus, he was good at everything.

“You’re saving lives these days?” Raina asks. She stands to hug him.

“Give me an hour with you, my darling sister. Yours will never be the same.” He leans over and kisses me, then sits.

“William, no offense, but you look like shit.”

“And it’s nice to see you too, Ollie.”

“Listen, if a brother can’t tell a sister when she looks like shit, then the system is broken.”

“My husband left me.”

“All the more reason for you to look fabulous. There are other fish in the sea.”

I think: Theodore. And then I regret thinking that because I also want Shawn to throw himself on his knees in front of me and beg to set things right, set them exactly as they were before.

“Oliver,” Raina interrupts. “We haven’t seen you in over a year. I had to check your Twitter feed to discover that you were in town.”

“It was last-minute.” He grabs a menu. “I’ve heard raves about their quinoa salad. Gaga told me I had to order it when I told her we were meeting here.”

“Lady Gaga does yoga?” Raina sounds dubious.

I can’t decide which I’m more impressed with: that Oliver trains Lady Gaga or that Raina actually knows who she is.

“Lady Gaga does everything,” Oliver says, like we’re supposed to know what that means.

“How’s India?” I ask, resolving to forget both Theo and Shawn entirely.

“Hot as balls,” he answers, waving down the waitress. “But you know, if you build it, they will come.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Raina says, ordering the tuna salad, no mayo, pesto on the side, and hold the bread too. I order the tuna salad with mayo, with pesto and with bread. The quinoa seemed like a good idea only in theory. Even if endorsed by Lady Gaga.

“The ashram. Did you see that it was written up in Travel and Leisure as the number-three yoga retreat in the world?”

“We didn’t,” Raina says.

“Well, it was,” he shrugs. “So I built it. And they came.”

“So then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be saving souls in a tent filled with incense?” She sniffs. “Or pot? Because don’t think for a second that I can’t smell the pot right now.”

“Raina, sister, I don’t understand the hostility,” Oliver says in this super-annoying tone that he must reserve for the end of his classes when everyone is all “oooommm,” and “inner-peace,” and “the light that guides me is the light that guides you.” He continues: “And that’s not pot. It’s patchouli oil. It’s good for my digestion. I’ll bring some over for Jeremy sometime.”

“There’s no hostility,” she says, though it sounds very much like there’s a lot of hostility. “We just don’t see you for a year, and William and I are left to deal with things like Mom and Dad taking lovers, and it would be very much appreciated if the prodigal baby boy were around to, you know, lend a hand.”

“Not figuratively, of course. They have that taken care of.” He laughs. Raina’s nostrils flare.

“Why is everyone calling me William all of a sudden?”

Raina sighs and pinches her nose, just as her Blackberry echoes again.

“Christ!” she yelps, then grabs it and walks toward the front of the restaurant while typing.

Oliver and I both fall silent for a moment until I say, “Ollie, really, what are you doing here? It’s a little unexpected. And I know, like, I don’t follow you on Twitter or anything, but you could have given us a heads-up.”

He drops his chin to his chest.

“I know, Willa. Shit, I know.”

When he looks up at me, his sheen is gone, his beautiful cheekbones suddenly looking skinnier and less beautiful than just a moment before.

“I’m in a little trouble. Just…I mean…it’s nothing. I mean…it’s something, but…well, don’t tell Mom and Dad.”