“Not bad is right. Next month let’s try for three.”
“I have other things on the fire, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. “You know you don’t have to keep tabs on me. I can handle myself.”
“Of course you can. I never said you couldn’t.”
But the implication was there. If I signed two people, why not four? If they read about an actor signing a deal, why didn’t our agency have a chance? I was on a perpetual treadmill and would never cross the finish line. Always running to do more.
“Have you been dating?”
The topic, always a sore spot between us, hadn’t gotten better with me living on the East Coast. My parents claimed they accepted my sexuality, but their words and actions said otherwise. I believed they preferred to think I was “finding myself.” The fact that at age forty I was still finding myself in only men’s beds didn’t clue them in that they needed to accept what I told them over twenty years ago.
“Not really, but,” I hurriedly assured her to prevent her from lecturing me, “it’s only because I was in the middle of negotiating three contracts.” I should’ve known that excuse wouldn’t be sufficient.
“You’re never going to meet anyone worthwhile with your head stuck in a contract. I’m sure you can meet someone at all the events you attend. Worse comes to worse, sign up for a dating site.”
“Mom, I’m busy. It’s not like I’m sitting home every night, but—”
“You can’t fool me. There are millions of women in New York who would die to be seen with you.”
“That’s not dating; that’s a business arrangement.”
“There are worse things.” She paused, and my heart pounded. I wasn’t sure why, but I suspected she had something she wanted to say and was searching for the right way to phrase it. “And it might be the best thing for you.”
“Not for me. For you, maybe.” A dull throbbing began behind my temples. “I know who I am. It hurts when you speak like you don’t accept me.”
“I would if I were sure. Isn’t the fact that you’ve never met anyone to have a serious relationship with a sign that maybe you should try dating women again?”
It didn’t pay to inform her that it didn’t matter—not when she only heard what she wanted to hear. “I was never serious with any women. I was serious with Monroe. It died out because we moved and lost touch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. High school puppy love isn’t a real relationship. He was interested in you for the money you could spend when you were together. I told you when we moved, you two came from different worlds. You could have anyone you want, the most beautiful women in the world.”
“Mom,” I snapped, the headache blossoming into a full-on migraine. “I don’t want any of them. Roe never cared about money; we cared about each other.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and rested my head against my knees. “I-I saw him.”
I heard her sharply drawn breath. “And?”
I winced. Days had passed since our confrontation in the restaurant, days where I contemplated stopping by his apartment building to try and hash things out one last time before I gave up for good.
“It didn’t go well.” I hated admitting that there didn’t seem to be anything left aside from this strange electricity between us. Other than our sexual attraction, Roe hated me. I could see it in the stiff set of his shoulders and the coldness in his eyes.
“Which proves my point,” she said brusquely and not without relief. “It was only about the money for him. He’s moved on, and so should you.”
“I have. But I don’t understand why you disliked Monroe so much. I told you he didn’t care about where I lived or what you had.”
“You say that, but I know better. It’s always about money. You always paid whenever you went to the movies or ate out. I remember. Once you left and couldn’t do for him, he forgot about you. That boy did not fit into our world.”
“Our world?” I almost sputtered with a combination of outrage and amusement. “Who are you, Queen Elizabeth? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say, and believe me, I’ve heard plenty. Roe is a doctor now and a professor. I’m the one with a useless college degree I didn’t even need because my parents had my life preprogrammed. He helps people, and what do I do?” I heard my voice rising in anger and frustration but couldn’t control it. “I can’t believe you said such ridiculous nonsense.Fit into our world.” The words tasted sour on my tongue. “What world? Parties and drinking and pretending to be someone I’m not to get people to do business with me?”
A few beats of silence passed, and I thought she might’ve hung up on me, but then I heard her sniffle.
“After I miscarried when you were six, the doctor told me I’d never be able to have more children. You were so precious to me, and I vowed to always protect you and make sure to do what I thought was right.”
“I’m not six anymore. I’m forty, and I can take care of myself.”
“A parent never stops wanting to protect their child. It might’ve hurt you, but in the end, your father and I did what we thought was best for you and your future.”
Why did I feel like we were talking in circles about something vital to me, yet I remained clueless? I shook off a strange feeling of foreboding and reined in my temper.
“Mom, I get it. I was so miserable when we moved that I didn’t know what I was doing. I missed New York and Roe and didn’t understand why you wanted me to stay in California.”
