Method

“Your turn,” she says, nodding in my direction. “Tell me what happened.”

For the first time in years, I spare no detail. I don’t see the point in hiding anything from her. I will probably regret it later, but for the moment, I trust my instinct to spill. It takes the better part of an hour for me to explain the last three months and the more I do, the angrier I get.

“Wow,” my mother says with wide eyes when I finish.

“I know.”

“I’m impressed,” she says with the lift of her lips. “You have to admit, it’s clever.”

“And insane and deceptive. I don’t know why he would hide it from me.”

For the first time since I started my rant, I study her while she sips her cold tea.

“It’s grief, and grief is another form of insanity in itself. You haven’t really gotten to experience that yet, and I pray it comes much later for you. You two will be fine. You need to go back to him.”

“I can’t. I’m too angry. Trust me, I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Haven’t you heard a word I said? He’s unreachable,” I say, pacing. “He’s acting like we should resume life as it was without acknowledging what he just put us both through. He’s still acting, and unless he drops the mask, we can’t get past it.”

“He’s not ready. He still needs his wife.”

“You know, Mom, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now.”

“By all means.”

“You meddle and give unsolicited advice like you’re doing everyone a damned favor. You’ve given my husband hell for years and warned me away from being with him. I’m finally showing you our cracks but fully expected you to gloat. What does that tell you?”

She doesn’t even flinch as her eyes hold mine over the side of her teacup. “That you’re angry enough at him to share with me.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But if you want in, don’t make me regret this.”

“I don’t stray from being honest, Mila.”

“God forbid you don’t alienate someone for the sake of your precious honesty.”

“Hey apple,” she says in her thick French tongue. “You didn’t fall far from this tree. It’s one of the things Lucas loves most about you because he told me so. I know what he did to me at your house came from a place of pain, but there was some truth behind it. I ask intrusive questions because I want to know you, the both of you, and it’s like since the day I met him, he’s had some preconceived notion about me.”

I cast my eyes down because it’s the truth. I had Lucas fearing my mother long before she met him.

“And maybe you were right to warn him,” she says, reading my guilt. “I didn’t make it easy on him, I know that. But you’re my only child, and I want what’s best for you. I see my mistakes, and I’m willing to admit them. I’m even willing to apologize to your husband once he comes ready with his. I might not know the day-to-day of your life with him, but I watch you two. The whole world is watching, and I along with them. I read his interviews and the way he speaks so highly of you. I see the way he looks at you and vice versa. That man loves you better than any other man could, movie star or not.”

I sob into my palms, shaking my head. “Of course, you would give me your blessing when we’re falling apart.”

“No, my love, this is not the end for you two. Stop mourning what isn’t over. You can’t see past his behavior, and he’s done some appalling things, perhaps a few unforgivable. But this is just a crossroads, and you’ll have a lot more of them in your marriage.”

“I don’t know, Mom, I don’t know. God, I was so sure we were unbreakable.”

“No one is. You think I don’t know what it’s like to be that absorbed? I’ve lived it. You two are each other’s universe. It’s the same with your father and me. You have no idea how many battles we’ve overcome just to stay together. But this battle, this isn’t about the two of you. He’s doing this for Blake and for himself. It has nothing to do with you. And you’re taking it personally.”

“I don’t know how else to take it!” Our child chooses that moment to make me purge my breakfast. Running to the toilet, I barely make it when I unleash hell into the porcelain. She wets a washrag and hands it to me. I wip

e my face of the evidence before I brush my teeth. My mother stands in the doorway, arms crossed while she confronts my reflection.

“This isn’t about your relationship. Not at the moment. This is about his bigger picture. You’re a large part of it, but right now this isn’t about marriage, this is about his friendship and his guilt, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“Great,” I snap sarcastically. “You seem to know a lot, Mom. You have a time line for this because I have a baby coming?”