She looks at me frankly, her eyes as vulnerable as I’ve ever seen. As unguarded as mine when I’m alone.
“Things changed between us after that. Slowly, but they changed.”
My father had a difficult recovery, but my mother stayed with
him throughout.
“When he told me he was working on things with Rhyson and wanted to move out here, I jumped at the chance.” Her knuckles whiten through her skin as she clutches the expensive handbag. “I thought maybe I can finally have my husband back.”
She swallows. “My children.”
Shock skitters over my nerves and short circuits my synapses.
Say what?
“When we started therapy sessions with Rhyson, we also started counseling for our marriage.” Her laugh is truncated. “Can you imagine it? After thirty years? But we are trying.”
“I had no idea, Mother.”
“Why would you?” Mother’s haughtiness snaps back into place. “It’s private between your father and me. I didn’t run to you every time he cheated, so I’m certainly not running to you now that he’s trying not to.”
“So you’re in family therapy with Rhyson and marriage counseling with Dad, making things right with them, but didn’t bother with me.”
I will never figure out how not to be hurt by this woman. It’s like some claw dug into my heart in vitro, and I don’t know how to free myself from feeling anything for her.
“We have brunch,” she says defensively.
“Brunch?” My voice pitches to the ceiling with my outrage. “You mean those regular intervals when you find new and inventive ways to criticize me over vodka and a meal? Oh, very healing, Mother.”
“It’s different with you, Bristol. You’re . . . you’re all t
he best parts of me,” she says softly. “The tender parts, the tough parts, the smart and fighting parts. I’ve damaged you enough, and I don’t know how to fix it between us.”
“Well, manipulating me into marrying a tyrannical pervert isn’t best place to start, if you’re taking suggestions.”
“I just . . . I don’t know. I thought you could have all of that. That everyone wants all of that on some level. I didn’t want you to turn it down.”
“Maybe if I hadn’t met Grip I would have settled for that.” I shake my head, fresh tears burning my eyes as time disintegrates, and the time to go with Parker approaches. “I love him, Mother. You saw that even though I tried to hide it.”
“I recognized the signs, yes,” Mother says, a wry twist to her lips. “You were just like me when I met your father. I tried to hide it, too.”
“Is that why you didn’t want me with Grip?” I ask softly.
“Maybe in part.” Mother shrugs elegant shoulders, turning clear eyes to me, or as clear as hers can be. “At any rate, he must love you to come to me after our confrontation the other night.”
“He loves me very much.” Just saying the words and believing them thaws some of the ice collecting around my heart.
“If you love him, then don’t give yourself to Parker, and in such an undignified way.” The distaste in her voice matches or exceeds the distaste on her face.
“I can’t just stand by and watch . . .” My words drown in my guilt. “Grip’s there because of me. His life, his career, his good name—all on the line because of me.”
“Then don’t stand by and don’t give in.” A touch of the pride I’ve always known my mother to hold gleams in the glance she gives me. “I may not have been baking brownies for your class or braiding your hair, but surely I taught you how to fight.”
“I can’t.” Tears scald my throat and blur my vision. “I’ve been around and around this, over and over, and I don’t see another way. I don’t want to give in to his demands, but—”
“Then don’t.”
“But I have to help Grip. Leaving him there is not an option.” My mother’s eyes soften some, and her stern mouth relaxes.