"No, Mom, I'm not kidding," I continued. "I've been seeing two men for"—I shook my head, trying to recall the moment it all began—"a few months now. Two different, unrelated men who are neither twins nor married."
She watched me for a beat, her eyebrows bent and the technician's repeated request that she return her foot to the bath ignored. Then, "A few months? It's been going on for—for a few months? And you didn't think I'd like to know that?"
"Yes, a few months and I'm not here for your complaints about it," I replied, still riding high on my righteousness. "I didn't set out with the objective of getting caught between two guys and I wouldn't wish this chaos on anyone. But most of all, I don't need anyone reminding me that once upon a time, I did foolish things. I did unbelievably foolish things and I ignored all the warnings in the world." I jabbed a finger at my chest. "Yep, that was me. But how many times do you think I needed to see my entire life ripped in half and sold for salvage before I burned the fool right out of me? How many times do you think I need my dog stolen from me or my business relationships fucked up or getting served with deposition summonses before I killed that stupid girl with fire?"
"Magnolia, I just—"
I held up both hands, cutting her off. "I don't need to hear it. I don't need anyone telling me I've made a bad habit of betting on the wrong horse. It's true. I've done it too many times and I've paid for each one. I've paid so much. Do you know how much it's cost me? Do you know how many of my friends got married and had babies and bought houses and succeeded in their careers and did all the things everyone is supposed to do while I wandered around, lost and confused, and hoping I'd get mine one of these days? That was all I wanted. But I was wandering and foolish and missed out on everything. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever catch up. If I'll ever get my turn." I swiped a tear off my cheek. "But I'm not betting on horses anymore, Mom. I'm betting on myself now."
I shifted in my seat, staring out the salon windows. It was blindingly bright, the kind of sunny that bellowedsummerrrrrrrrr!and dusted my nose with freckles within minutes outside. There were people walking on the sidewalk, driving on the road. Going about their lives. They weren't caught between a history of bad decisions and a desperate desire to get it right for once in their fucking lives. Or perhaps they were. Maybe they were suffering and struggling, failing and fucking it all up. Maybe we all suffered and struggled, but we couldn't see it until we got up close and really looked at someone.
"How do you like the color? It's good?" the technician asked.
I bobbed my head without looking. It didn't matter whether my toes clashed with my fingers or I wore heels or I did anything other than finding the right path through this—the one where I didn't choose a man but we chose each other—because I wanted my damn turn. I'd earned it.
"I'm sorry," my mother said softly. "What I said about you and married men, I—I'm sorry. I thought we'd laugh about it but now I see it wasn't very funny." From the corner of my eye, I saw her gesturing toward me. "You're strong, Magnolia. You're stronger than the boys. Always have been. I think that's why we give you a hard time. We think you can handle it. You can but that doesn't mean you should have to."
I glanced toward her. "It's fine."
"It's not fine," she shot back. "We've been teasing you about these hiccups of yours and I missed the fact it was hurting you so much you started keeping important things from us. Fromme."
"I didn't know what to say," I admitted. "I didn't think you'd approve of this situation and I couldn't deal with hearing that. It's stressful enough to find myself with feelings for two people. I needed time to sort it out by myself before getting hit with everyone's opinions."
She leaned forward, peered at the polish on her toes for a moment. "It's a mother's right to have opinions about everything her babies do. Even when they're not babies anymore," she said. "You'll do the same thing. Someday you'll call me up when your baby insists on wearing a party dress and rain boots to the grocery store and I'll tell you the best is yet to come."
I laughed, a bit less hysterical this time. "That seems like an incredibly distant and unlikely future."
My mother seemed poised to offer a cheeky reply but stopped herself. She glanced at my toes, remarking to the technician, "That color is going on too light. She needs another coat." Then, softly, "I can keep my opinions to myself for a couple of minutes. Longer if a new episode of theProperty Brotherscomes on." She speared me with a silly grin. "Tell me about them."
"I'm gonna need a minute." I reached for my bag, digging inside that black hole for my water bottle. I guzzled it down as I checked my phone. Four messages.
Andy: Any chance you're free for lunch on Thursday? I want to talk to you about a few projects I'm scheduling for Q4.
Andy: I can swing Friday but I'll have Patrick with me. He's wonderful but he's no help when it comes to decoding text messages from boys and I love decoding text messages with you.
Rob: What do I have to do to see you tonight? I'm tied up until 8 but I want to see you tonight.
Ben: Hypothetical question: if someone spilled paint on concrete, how should they clean that up?
All of thosequestions could wait. I tucked my phone away and turned back to Mom. "I don't know where to start."
She tipped her head to the side, hummed. "Which one came first?"
I snorted at that. "Rob. Rob was first," I said. "He's an investment banker. He lives in the South End. He's really—he's thoughtful. That's what he is. Thoughtful. It seems like such a small, simple thing but I've never been with a thoughtful man before. And he's generous. He makes time for me when he doesn't have it and opens himself up even when it's difficult for him. We're a lot alike, me and Rob. We've been through bad relationships and don't know how to trust people and—and we're afraid of getting hurt again." I dragged my palms up and down my thighs, needing some outlet for the heat that sparked inside me every time I thought about Rob. Every time I thought about where we started and where we were right now. "I can tell him exactly what I'm thinking. I can disagree with him and I can tell him he's wrong and…he likes it. He's never once made me feel small or that my ideas aren't important." I gulped down a swell of emotion. "He's never made me feel like I'm not important and that—that's new for me."
My mother continued peering at her toes, her lips pursed. I couldn't read her expression.
Eventually, she said, "And the second?"
"Oh, right," I murmured. "Ben is a firefighter. He's the one fixing up the old Cape across the street from me. He bought it for his grandmother but she passed away before he could finish work on the house. That loss hit him hard. He's hurting and he's so angry at the world for taking his grandmother. I don't know if she went sooner than expected or he's just that devastated from the loss but he's in bad shape. I just want to swaddle him up and hold him tight and fix things for him."
"Mmhmm." She waved her hand. "Come on. Let's have it. I can't keep my opinions to myself if you don't give me the whole story."
I frowned. What more did she want? "If you think I'm giving you any naked details, you're wrong."
She looked me over the same way she did when I came home after curfew and she was figuring out whether I'd been drinking and fooling around with boys. But instead of asking me a dozen questions meant to trip me up, she only nodded and said, "Good for you."
"That's it?" I yelped. "You're not going to ask about their families or when you can meet them or generally pick apart everything I've said?"
