“Why are you sorry?”I ask, because I’m still processing the rest.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” she says.“I mean, I wasn’t supposed toknow, but I was over there having dinner before they announced it, and I guess they were in counseling at the time, and it just...came out.”
I take a long, long drink.
“And, I’ve only gleaned this in bits and pieces, but Ithinkthey were trying to work through it, and then she did it again, and he just asked for a divorce on the spot,” Jane goes on.“So he didn’t really have a plan.”
I stare into my whiskey sour.I don’t even know if I’m surprised, because of course my mom would go on the offensive about something like this, try to get suspicion off of herself.
I love my mother, but that doesn’t mean she always handles situations well.She’s only human.
Jane stands and points at my glass.
“Finish your last sip,” she orders me.“You need another one.”
I obey, because she’s right.
Two whiskey sours later,we’re still on the couch.It’s late, and we’rethisclose to Really Drunk, but not quite there.I feel like it’s justified, though.She’s just finished telling me about the fight she and my dad got in.It was over a dresser, but as she’s telling it, I can tell it’sreallybecause he felt like she was picking our mom over him, and I tell her that.
She’s quiet a minute.
“Yeah,” she says, and kicks her feet onto the coffee table.“Fights are never about what they’re about, huh?”
“You should make that into a poster,” I say, leaning my head back against the back of the couch.“You know those, like, cutesy posters of cheesy sayings that people hang over their bed?‘Always kiss me goodnight’ and shit?Make one that saysfights are never about what they’re about.”
“For people to hang in their bedrooms?”she asks.
“For people to hang wherever they have their fights,” I say.“Last dude I dated, it was his car.Dude before that, the kitchen.”
“Hmm,” she says.
We’re both quiet for a moment, and of course I think back to Hunter.Jesus, we had some fights, and Jane was right about those, too: they were never about what I thought they were.Not in retrospect.
Really, they all boiled down to the same thing.For me, anyway.I was just afraid that I loved him more than he loved me.
Fuck, was it really that simple?
I sigh and look at Jane’s ceiling.
“I know, right?”Jane agrees.
I have the urge to tell her about Hunter, that he’s back and stillveryhot and actually seems to have matured, and I have too, but I don’t.Dealing with our parents is more than enough.
“I’m with Mom tomorrow,” I say, instead of telling her about Hunter.“Any advice?”
“Don’t fucking tell her I told you she cheated,” Jane says.
“Duh,” I say.
“She just started watchingGame of Thrones,” Jane says.“Talk to her about that.”
“I’ve never seen it,” I say.
“It’s the middle ages, a brother and sister fuck, and a bunch of people die while fighting to be King,” Jane says.“That’s about it.Oh, and there are lots of naked titties on TV, and she doesnotapprove.”
“Thanks,” I say.
After a long silence, Jane stands and takes our glasses to the kitchen.
