“He doesn’t owe you alimony anymore,” I said. “As if I need to tell you.”
“I don’t understand why he can’t just help me out, though. He has the money.”
“You know why, Mom. He’s not your ATM, and you’ve had a thriving career. Don’t play the victim.” When my temper began to rise, I took a breath and evened my tone. “Anyway, he’s finallyjust nowfinalizing his divorce with Gina, so he has his hands full.”
“That’s what she gets for breaking up a marriage,” Mom muttered, her usual response.
She didn’t break up a marriage.Youdid.
I kept it to myself. There was no point arguing with her. She wanted to believe my father had cheated with Gina more than she wanted to live in the reality that he’d never crossed the line. In the months leading up to their divorce, it was my mother’s increasingly frequent and extreme accusations that had driven him away—and into Gina’s arms. If not physically at first, then emotionally. But who could blame my father when years of my mother’s drinking and paranoia had been wearing him down?
“How’s the book coming?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
“All right.”
“Care to tell me about it?”
She sighed. “It’s not there yet.”
“You’re keeping busy, though?”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just making sure you aren’t . . . bored.”
“Stop insinuating,” she said.
“I’m not, Mom.” Well, maybe I was a little. She could seem coherent and still be drinking. “Actually, you sound well.”
“How’s Bill?” she asked with a lighter tone.
“He’s working a lot, but he’s good.” I glanced at my husband, but he was engrossed with his phone. “He says ‘hello.’”
“Good boy. He works hard so he can take care of you, you know. Don’t take that for granted. I did, and I can tell you, it’s not easy being alone. Not easy at all.”
If my mother was alone, it was a prison of her own making. Bill would never leave me. He’d always continue to offer me love, a home, a family. For giving me the security that had been stolen from me at thirteen, I owed him a great deal.
I should never have left the house during an argument, and I especially shouldn’t have flirted with another man. That was something my mother would’ve done, and had done, to make my dad jealous.
I’d been making out-of-character decisions ever since David had entered the picture, and I couldn’t really ignore that red flag anymore.
I nudged Bill’s arm with my foot, and he put down his phone. I gave my husband a small smile, grateful he hadn’t turned our argument yesterday into anything bigger than it needed to be. That he’d been waiting up when I’d come home, and had welcomed me when he could’ve made me feel like shit for walking out on him.
His steady emotional support held strong. Even now, from a few feet away, he comforted me.
No matter how trying these phone calls were, he encouraged me to make them, and truth be told, had I not made the call, tomorrow I would’ve stressed over it. I didn’t want my mother to feel alone on her birthday.
“Thank you,” I mouthed to him.
He cocked his head. “What for?”
“I should get going,” my mom said. “I’ve had a long weekend. Thank you for calling, and give Bill my love.”
“I will. Happy birthday.”
“That was nice,” Bill said when I’d hitEnd.
“I tried, but you know how she can be.”
