Alicia laughed. “You really can’t make this stuff up.”
Wasn’t that the truth. Who would have thought I’d leave a cushy life in a gated community to clean up decades of online shopping addiction and relocate a bunch of wildlife.
I returned my gaze to the tables full of Mom’s collected treasures. “It’s strange to see her things out here like this.” Sorting the items had been easy. I could focus my mind on a daily goal. Selling it was different. Final somehow. “The dresses on rolling racks remind me of Sunday lunches. The vintage pumps and matching handbags make me think of long days by the waterfront, shopping and trying new cafés.”
Ilona lifted another grape to her mouth, then dusted her palms. “Trina always looked so nice when we were young.”
“She had to,” I said, setting my chin on my knees. “Dad insisted.” Just as Robert had. “Wives represent the husbands, you know? We can’t go out into the world looking the way we feel or someone might realize how poorly we’re treated at home.”
Alicia set a palm on my back and rubbed gently.
I clenched my jaw. “I should’ve seen straight through Robert’s nonsense when I met him,” I said. “I had a lifetime of watching a fake man wear a fake smile and pretend to be something he wasn’t. I, of all people, should’ve known exactly what Robert was.”
A woman approached Mom’s collection of blown glass vases, and I clamped my mouth shut.
My friends watched me carefully. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”
Ilona frowned. “Don’t apologize. You can say anything you want to us. I tried to tell your mom how important it was to voice her pain, but she kept it all inside. That’s not good.”
“Bitterness will grow roots in your heart,” I said. A psychology professor wrote those words on the blackboard when I was in college. He said those same roots would eventually stop the organ from beating, like a python with its prey. He meant the lesson figuratively, but the grim analogy fit my mother’s life well.
My throat grew thick as I stared at her picked-over items on the grass. “This stuff brought her some semblance of peace. Now it’s just gathered on the lawn, priced at two dollars each, or best offer.”
I felt Alicia’s concerned stare on my cheek but couldn’t bring myself to look at her. I wasn’t good at vulnerability, and my tears formed frequently these days.
Ilona grunted. “Everyone’s stuff ends up like this one day. Things don’t matter once the person who loved them is gone.”
The notion made Robert’s obsession with money all the more laughable. We couldn’t take anything with us when we left this earth, and no one was promised another day. He didn’t have friends or hobbies. His only motivation to get up every morning was to work so he could earn more money and feel more important because of it. Whatever he chased was at the end of a rainbow. Utterly unreachable. He’d never be happy, and it made me a little sad for him.
Life was meant to be lived, and I wanted to live it.
I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, unsteadied by a double wave of grief. For what was missing in my life. For the relationships I never had with my mom and husband. For the biological father I’d never know.
A tear slid over my cheek, and I wiped it away.
“This shouldn’t have been her life,” I whispered. “I’ve been looking through her old photo albums before bed. She was so beautiful and vibrant once. I remember her being smart and resilient. Dad stripped that all away, and she never recovered.”
Everything could’ve been so different.
Ilona crossed her legs in the grass. She ran her palms over the blades and hummed softly. “Your mama wasn’t really living. I think she was hiding, right to the very end. And you need to give yourself time. Your world is in upheaval. Your mama’s gone. Your marriage is ending. Your daughter’s grown. It’s a whole lot for a person to sort out all at once. But you will. And your life will clean up nice, just like this place.” She motioned to the house.
I’d power washed the stone last week and repainted the door and porch handrail. Cameron had repaired the broken shutters.
“Things will only look awful for a little while,” Ilona continued. “As long as you keep working on it, life’s going to look amazing real soon.”
I met her eyes and found hope there. “Thank you for saying that.”
She was right, of course. I’d taken the hardest step already. I thought of Sylvia from book club, telling me the novel’s main character was supposed to make the necessary changes and choose happiness. That was my goal now, for my sake, Camilla’s, and Mom’s. Our family history of female misery ended with me. One way or another.
The changes I’d made in my life and this house already were incredible. Pride filled my soul. Whatever happened, I’d keep reaching for peace and joy.
I held on to my feelings of victory as we packed up the leftovers from the sale and moved the boxes into Cameron’s truck. That night, as promised, I logged on to my website and raised all my prices.
When the moon made its appearance in the night sky, I slogged out to the trailer for what would hopefully be my last night of terrible rest. I sent messages to Alicia and Ilona, thanking them both for their help, then another to Camilla, letting her know how much I loved her.
My stomach growled, but I was far too tired to trek back across the lawn. So I pulled a spoon from the drawer and a jar of peanut butter from the shelf. I felt like a kid digging into the jar and stuffing a mouthful past my lips.
I stared through the parted curtains at the full moon overhead while bullfrogs and crickets played the evening score. “I miss you, Mom,” I said. “What we had wasn’t perfect, but I’d give anything to see you one more time. I should’ve taken better care of you instead of letting you push me away.”
