“I shouldn't laugh at that,” she says, pulling away the hand she’d used to cover her laughter.
“Yes, you should. It's funny.” I hand her a washed and rinsed plate and she picks up a towel to dry it.
“And his wife?” That last word holds so much pain for her.Wife.A figurative slap in the face.
“She seems happy. I don't know for sure, but I think he's getting help. Or has already gotten it. I don't know.” The way Allegra soothed my dad last night after my comment made me think maybe he has sought help.
Mom takes the next plate I have held out but doesn't meet my eyes. I look harder and see the shiny tears she is holding back.
“Good,” she says after a few moments. Her voice is shaky but strong. “I don't know Allegra, but she doesn't deserve that. No woman does.”
“Of course not,” I murmur, pressing down a little harder with a scrub brush on the last plate. If my mom wasn't on her fourth glass of wine, would she be so sanguine about this? She met a man and fell in love, she had his children and experienced pain from his hand, and now someone else will get the best of him. If that isn't fucked up, then I don't know what it is. Nobody ever said life has to be easy, but does it have to be so damn hard?
“Do you miss Henry?” My mother takes the final plate from me and dries it off. I wish I had something to do with my hands, but there are no more dishes. Gathering my long hair, I pull it over one shoulder and divide it into three sections to make a braid.
“No,” I say slowly, thinking about my answer. Perhaps I should miss him more, but I don't. Maybe it's because we weren't married for very long. Maybe it's because I’d fallen out of love with him long before I signed the divorce papers. Or maybe it's because I've always had Aidan for companionship, love, and understanding.
“Do you think that's because you have Aidan?”
For a moment I wonder whether I just spoke my thoughts aloud. Knowing that I did not, I open my mouth to answer my mom’s question.
“Probably. Having Aidan as my best friend gives me everything I would have in a partner. Minus the sex, obviously.” This is a good reminder that I should never say anything like I did that night in the bathtub. I need Aidan too much to risk him. Any thoughts like that should stay on the inside of my head.
“I wonder if you and Aidan could ever be more.” Mom tips up her glass and drinks but keeps her eyes on me.
I shake my head. “No, Mom. We know better. There is a line and we do not cross it.”
My mother eyes me. “You never know. I wonder how you’d feel if push ever comes to shove.”
“What do you mean?”
“One day you'll meet someone. Or one day, he'll meet someone. And then what?”
Aidan's blonde, fairylike date springs to mind. We haven't spoken of her since the night I saw them together.
“We've already been through that once, remember? Everything worked out fine.”
“Did it though? Have you ever asked him how he felt watching you get married?”
“I’ve never had a reason to.” Now her question has me mentally sifting through my memories of that time period. Closer to the beginning of my relationship with Henry, Aidan came to me and told me his doubts. I didn't listen. I was in love and overwhelmed by Henry. It's not lost on me that the parts of his personality that I fell in love with were the same traits that slowly suffocated me. I met Henry not long after my parents’ divorce was finalized, and I needed what he had to offer. I needed to be led by someone who seemed like they knew what they were doing. Grasping for proof that not all men were like my father, I'd latched on to Henry. He was confident and secure, and just so capable. Able to accomplish anything. Able to talk anybody into anything. I’d grown up waiting for the day when I would fall in love, and then I watched my parents and was hit with the stark reality of what love can turn into. I was ripe for love that didn't hurt, and Henry was right there to give it.
Aidan was by my side through all of that. One time he tried to intervene. My response had ensured it would be the only time. I didn't want to hear the truth, and after Aidan offered it up, he stepped back and stayed tight-lipped. He hugged me after I got engaged, and stood with me at the altar. Did I ever ask how it made him feel to see me get married? No. I did not ask him for his thoughts, and he did not share his opinions. If I had put down the wedding planning magazine, if I had closed Pinterest and looked at Aidan, would I have seen an objection that wanted to come out? Maybe the objection hung there in the air, like a child with his hand raised in a classroom full of students, just waiting to be called upon. Maybe I didn't look too hard, because I didn't want to see it. I thought Henry was my chance at the perfect love my parents did not have. And I thought wrong. I could call myself silly and young, naïve. But at the bottom of it all, it's plain and simple. I was wrong. And Aidan knew it.
I open my mouth, planning on telling my mom that she can get rid of any romantic notions about me and Aidan, but the back door opens and Aidan walks in. His cheeks are red from the cold, and he sniffs, running the back of his hand under his nose.
“Why aren't you wearing your jacket?” I ask.
“I left everything in the car.”
“Is your mom okay?”
“She's upset. She dropped the pumpkin pie on the ground.” Aidan chuckles. “Apparently my dad came up from behind and tickled her while she was carrying it.”
Swoon.I look at my mom. The dreamy look on her face tells me she's thinking the same thing.
“Diego and Diana are relationship goals,” my mom says. I can't help my laugh. My mom should take a break from social media.
I nod. “Seriously.”
