I licked my lips. “Things don’t tend to end well with you and men. I can’t afford for this to implode. Please.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sweetheart, I know that in the past I’ve picked some winners. Believe me, I know. But this guy is different. He’s good at his job, he’s got all these awards everywhere. He owns things, no criminal record, he’s sweet, and he goes to therapy—”
“He goes to therapy?”
“Yeah. He’s really focused on self-improvement. Our therapists sound a lot alike actually.”
I blinked at her. “You have a therapist?”
“Yeah, I told you.”
I shook my head. “No, you didn’t.”
“I’ve been going for like two years now. It’s virtual.”
I shifted on my feet. “Well… well what do they say?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Lots of stuff. She’s expensive as hell. Insurance won’t cover a dime. But I haven’t missed one session.”
I felt a weight on my chest lift. Therapy. Never, in my whole life, had she gone to therapy.
“Mom, that’s really great,” I said, relief in my voice.
“Baby, I am doing so well. I have never been this Zen. I’m in a really good place, you’d be so proud of me. And Neil? He likes me. I like him. We’re having fun. Nothing bad is going to happen, we’re just enjoying each other, I don’t want you to worry about it.”
I let out a breath. I still didn’t feel a hundred percent, but what else could I do? I couldn’t make her stop seeing him. All I could do was let her know my concerns and hope she’d behave.
“Okay,” I said. “I won’t worry.”
“Good.” She turned and started walking again.
She gave me a tour as we went, showing me all the things Neil must have shown her. Expensive paintings, sculptures he’d picked up during his travels. An office with a view of the pool and about a million framed degrees and diplomas on the walls.
When we got to the kitchen, she stopped in the doorway and held out her arms. “Here we are! Ta-da!”
I looked past her into the room. The large granite island was covered in white buckets full of flowers. Every inch.
“What is this?” I said.
She left me in the entry and breezed into the kitchen to pluck a peony from the water. “I stopped at a farmers’ market on the way back from the paint store and there was a stand with the most beautiful flowers and I thought, Why not? We need to brighten this place up.” She sniffed the petals.
I shook my head at the room. “How did you afford all these? Did you buy the whole stand?”
“Yup. And paid them fifty bucks to drop them off. Neil gave me his Amex and told me I could get whatever I wanted for the house.” She lowered her voice. “What’s-her-face is supposed to be putting them in vases, but I swear to God that woman moves like she’s being paid by the hour.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m going to have these all over when he gets home. I got some potted herbs for the kitchen, heirloom tomatoes for a caprese before dinner. And smell this.” She put the peony back in water and brought a candle to me and held it under my nose. “Roses.” She smiled. “Soy, handmade, organic goat’s milk candles. I’m putting them everywhere.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I made gem water too. Put rose quartz in a spray bottle, misted all over the bedroom. Enhance the love energy and improve the qi—it is way off in this place. I mean, he’s a Taurus with Mercury in Aries, so it all makes sense looking around here, but still.”
She set the candle down on the counter and peered around the cavernous kitchen. “You know what? This man needed me.” She gazed back at me thoughtfully. “I think he’s been sleepwalking. I’m going to wake him up.”
I felt my face soften, despite myself. This was the Mom I loved.
This was my favorite version of her. The vibrant, happy, spiritual one who made my Halloween costumes by hand, and they were always so good the other kids were jealous. The Mom who turned an old shed in the yard of our rental into a beautiful playhouse, the Mom who woke me up on my birthday with confetti pancakes covered in gummy bears and those trick candles that don’t blow out.
It was so easy to love this version. Maybe she would stay this version. Maybe she was doing okay. Getting help. Settling down with age, wanting something steadier.
And maybe she and Neil were different. She was right, he wasn’t like the men she usually dated. He was stable and educated. He had his own money. He didn’t need anything from her but this.
For a second, I let myself imagine. Pretended that five years from now I’d be coming here for Christmas. Maybe they’d be married and she’d be comfortable, living with all this wealth and privilege, and he’d be happy because his life had been graced by a beautiful, charming muse.
I wanted it so badly. Even though experience and common sense told me not to hope, it burst into life inside me anyway.
“This one’s for you,” Mom said, turning and reaching into the sea of buckets. She pulled out one filled with red roses. “For the cottage. I know you love them.”
The corner of my lip quirked up. “Thanks.”
“Are you hungry? I was going to make my garlic lemon shrimp with polenta for dinner. Neil won’t be home until late—I guess the guy works a million hours a week or something—but I can start it now and we can crack open a bottle of white. You should see the wine cellar, oh my God, it’s amazing. You go grab a bottle and I’ll start the sauce—I want to hear all about Justin.” Her eyes sparkled.
I deflated a little. “I can’t, Maddy’s waiting for me in the boat.”
Mom put her lower lip out. “I feel like I haven’t even seen you. Go get her, she can eat with us.”
“No,” I said, a little too quickly. “I… it’s just we’re tired. We worked today. Maybe tomorrow?”
She sighed deeply. “Okay.” Then she bounced a little. “This is going to be the best summer! We’re together again, we’re both in love—”
She came over and hugged me. I breathed her in and my muscles relaxed.
Roses.
