Cindy closed her eyes, feeling as stupid as she sounded. Shocks like this were getting very, very old.
She wanted life back the way it was supposed to be. “If she happened to be there when—”
“Living there. Li-ving. Moved in. Given her landlord notice, for all I know.”
“But he . . . ” She opened her eyes, unable to stand the darkness in her own head, and fixed on a jumbled modern landscape hung over the twin bed across the room. “He never told me—”
“Mom, he never tells you anything. How the hell am I supposed to go home now for vacation before school starts again? How am I supposed to live in that house with them all cozy there together?”
90 Isabel
Sharpe
“Oh. Well.” Cindy sank onto a hard-backed chair, painted blue, next to the phone table. “I’m sure it’s a mistake. I’m sure when I get back from here he’ll—”
“Mom, you’re out. She’s in. You have to understand that.”
She was nearly crying, heaving breaths to try to stop it, this girl—woman now—who hated showing vulnerability. Like her father. “What am I going to do? Where will I go home to?”
“No, no. It won’t come to that. Your home is your home, with me and your father.” Cindy shook her head vehemently.
“That . . . woman will be out when I get back.”
“Mom,” Lucy practically shouted. “Get . . . a . . . clue. Your marriage is over.”
Cindy inhaled slowly, preparing to be patient. “Sweetheart, it’s more complicated than—”
“Complicated my ass, it’s simple. He’s got Pattycakes, you’ll find someone else, but what about me ? I can’t just go out and find another set of parents. I’m the one who’s fucking screwed here.”
“Lucy!” Her voice burst out in breathless shock—more shock, God please have mercy—her face hot, a strange buzzing in her ears. “Your language.”
“Good, Mom.” A hysterical giggle, thick with misery. “My life is falling apart and you’re worried about my language .”
Cindy couldn’t do more than work her mouth. Speech seemed out of the question. There was too much to take in.
She wanted off the phone, she wanted to bury herself in her bed, pull the covers over her head the way she had as a little girl, waking in the middle of the night with a splitting headache, starved for oxygen. She wanted to wake up now and find the fantasy mother she often dreamed of at her bedside, As Good As It Got
91
stroking her hair, telling her she was silly to be afraid of a bad dream, that she was loved more than life itself.
“I’m sorry.” Lucy was crying in earnest now, then taking deep breaths, fighting again for control. “I’m sorry, Mom.
This is just so hard .”
“I know.” She managed a whisper, guilt deep and dark inside her. She and Kevin had done this to Lucy. Their problems had grown so much bigger than just the two of them. “I promise you, it will all work out. Your father seems to need to . . . explore right now, but it won’t last.”
“Mom.”
“I know him, honey. Better than you do. Just trust me on this. Okay?”
A sniffle. A sob. Quieter then, her breath slowing. Cindy’s smile spread. Reassuring her daughter made her feel calmer too. Everything would be okay.
“Thanks, Mom. I gotta get back to work.”
“I understand. And you’re welcome. Now don’t worry.
Promise me you won’t.”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll try.” She hung up before her mother’s I love you could make it over the line.
I love you . Cindy sat motionless until the phone startled her with its bomp-bomp-bomp chastisement. She put the receiver carefully back in place, feeling like she was in a post-earthquake landscape, waiting for the aftershocks.
Lucy had to be mistaken. Kevin wouldn’t install his mistress in her house. Especially without asking her. Even he wasn’t that bad. It was a mistake. That was all.
She felt her insides unlock and allowed herself a breath and another smile. A mistake. That was all.
92 Isabel
Sharpe
A light tap at
She wanted life back the way it was supposed to be. “If she happened to be there when—”
“Living there. Li-ving. Moved in. Given her landlord notice, for all I know.”
“But he . . . ” She opened her eyes, unable to stand the darkness in her own head, and fixed on a jumbled modern landscape hung over the twin bed across the room. “He never told me—”
“Mom, he never tells you anything. How the hell am I supposed to go home now for vacation before school starts again? How am I supposed to live in that house with them all cozy there together?”
90 Isabel
Sharpe
“Oh. Well.” Cindy sank onto a hard-backed chair, painted blue, next to the phone table. “I’m sure it’s a mistake. I’m sure when I get back from here he’ll—”
“Mom, you’re out. She’s in. You have to understand that.”
She was nearly crying, heaving breaths to try to stop it, this girl—woman now—who hated showing vulnerability. Like her father. “What am I going to do? Where will I go home to?”
“No, no. It won’t come to that. Your home is your home, with me and your father.” Cindy shook her head vehemently.
“That . . . woman will be out when I get back.”
“Mom,” Lucy practically shouted. “Get . . . a . . . clue. Your marriage is over.”
Cindy inhaled slowly, preparing to be patient. “Sweetheart, it’s more complicated than—”
“Complicated my ass, it’s simple. He’s got Pattycakes, you’ll find someone else, but what about me ? I can’t just go out and find another set of parents. I’m the one who’s fucking screwed here.”
“Lucy!” Her voice burst out in breathless shock—more shock, God please have mercy—her face hot, a strange buzzing in her ears. “Your language.”
“Good, Mom.” A hysterical giggle, thick with misery. “My life is falling apart and you’re worried about my language .”
Cindy couldn’t do more than work her mouth. Speech seemed out of the question. There was too much to take in.
She wanted off the phone, she wanted to bury herself in her bed, pull the covers over her head the way she had as a little girl, waking in the middle of the night with a splitting headache, starved for oxygen. She wanted to wake up now and find the fantasy mother she often dreamed of at her bedside, As Good As It Got
91
stroking her hair, telling her she was silly to be afraid of a bad dream, that she was loved more than life itself.
“I’m sorry.” Lucy was crying in earnest now, then taking deep breaths, fighting again for control. “I’m sorry, Mom.
This is just so hard .”
“I know.” She managed a whisper, guilt deep and dark inside her. She and Kevin had done this to Lucy. Their problems had grown so much bigger than just the two of them. “I promise you, it will all work out. Your father seems to need to . . . explore right now, but it won’t last.”
“Mom.”
“I know him, honey. Better than you do. Just trust me on this. Okay?”
A sniffle. A sob. Quieter then, her breath slowing. Cindy’s smile spread. Reassuring her daughter made her feel calmer too. Everything would be okay.
“Thanks, Mom. I gotta get back to work.”
“I understand. And you’re welcome. Now don’t worry.
Promise me you won’t.”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll try.” She hung up before her mother’s I love you could make it over the line.
I love you . Cindy sat motionless until the phone startled her with its bomp-bomp-bomp chastisement. She put the receiver carefully back in place, feeling like she was in a post-earthquake landscape, waiting for the aftershocks.
Lucy had to be mistaken. Kevin wouldn’t install his mistress in her house. Especially without asking her. Even he wasn’t that bad. It was a mistake. That was all.
She felt her insides unlock and allowed herself a breath and another smile. A mistake. That was all.
92 Isabel
Sharpe
A light tap at
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