One Summer in Paris

“Here.” Grace put the plate of eggs in front of her. “The first thing you need to do is eat properly. It will make you feel better.”

Audrey looked at the eggs dubiously. “I don’t want to be sick again.”

“You won’t be.” Grace handed her a fork, and Audrey used it to poke at the food on her plate.

“Did you used to do this for your mother?”

“All the time. Do you do it for yours?”

“Yeah, when there’s food in the house. Mostly I make toast.” She took a small mouthful and then another. She ate like a bird, tiny delicate mouthfuls that she chewed slowly. “I always said I was never going to be like her. No way was I drinking. I had more control than that.”

Grace understood her fear. “You’re not like her, Audrey.”

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” She fiddled with her food. “You don’t drink, either, do you? I noticed that, but I never thought that there might be a reason.”

Grace sat down opposite her, nursing her coffee in her hands. “I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol for decades. Like you, I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to control it. And drinking was just one of many things I tried to control. I thought that was the only way to live safely. I didn’t trust myself. I thought that the only thing stopping me being like her was one little slip. Miss a parent teacher conference, leave dirty washing on the floor, run out of milk—”

Audrey put her fork down. “I slipped.”

“You had a few drinks. A few drinks doesn’t make you an alcoholic.” But she’d worried about the same thing herself. “I had a glass of wine last night with dinner. I had one the night before, too. While I was here on my own.”

Audrey lifted her eyebrow. “I’m guessing you don’t exactly feel peer pressure, so why? Did you want it, or were you proving something?”

“Both.” Grace shifted in her seat. “I’ve been so rigid and inflexible with myself and with my family. I knew in theory that enjoying a glass of wine wouldn’t turn me into an alcoholic, but I was afraid to do it. I’ve been afraid for a lot of my life. Since my marriage ended, I’ve thought about a lot of things. The truth is, I was so busy proving to myself that I could live a controlled, ordered life that I didn’t stop to think about whether it was a good life. A life I was enjoying. I think in my head I confused spontaneity with chaos.”

“You grew up with chaos?” The food in front of Audrey lay forgotten. “I’m the same. In my house the rules change from one day to the next. Promises are never kept. I stopped inviting my mum to school stuff because I never knew if she’d show up or not, or if she’d show up drunk.”

“Yes. I understand that.” Grace heard her mother’s voice. I promise we’re going to do something special for your birthday, Gracie.

“So your mum—when did it start? And you had a dad, right? So why didn’t he just fix it?”

She never talked about it, not even to Sophie.

But Sophie was her child, and there was always the instinct to protect your child no matter how old she was. Audrey was her friend.

There was a difference.

She didn’t have to worry about what Audrey would think, or how it might affect them as a family. She and Audrey had become incredibly close.

“I don’t remember a time when my mother didn’t drink.” Hopefully it might help Audrey a little if she shared her experience, even if only to make her feel less alone. “She was the perfect hostess. The life and soul of the party.” She had an image of her mother whirling through the house in a new dress. Look at me!

“Sounds exactly like my mum.”

“When I was young I assumed that was how people lived, that it was normal, but then I realized other mothers didn’t drink like her. I tried talking to my father, but he always told me there was nothing wrong. Your mother is fine, Grace.” The feelings of hurt and confusion were still there and she saw the same reflected in Audrey’s eyes.

“Yeah, that’s the hard part. You start to think there’s something wrong with you.”

“As I grew up I realized she wasn’t fine at all. I couldn’t understand why my father couldn’t see it. Then I realized he did see it, but chose to ignore it. That was the biggest mystery of all. I thought that if he loved her, he’d want her to be well. He was a doctor—”

“Crap. Well, if he couldn’t fix it, what hope is there for the rest of us?”

“Exactly. I still don’t really understand it.” She stared out onto the balcony, her mind back in that time. “He loved her very much. I suppose he thought he was protecting her. She was an important member of the local community. She was at every fund-raising event and committee meeting. I guess that’s where the drinking started. But because no one in my house would ever acknowledge it was a problem, it never stopped. He never got her help. He made excuses for her. It’s called enabling. And when I mentioned it, worried about her health, he became angry. I was told that we never discuss our family business outside the family so I learned that not only did I have to live in this awful situation, but I couldn’t ever talk about it with anyone.”

Audrey looked shocked. “I always felt kind of sorry for myself, dealing with it on my own, but you had it even tougher. You had an adult there and he didn’t deal with it, either. So it was like you were dealing with both of them.”

Talking to Audrey was so easy.

“How did you get to be so smart?”