She paused, that weariness haunting her eyes again. “Look, Vivian, I’m not mad at you. Okay, I am mad at you, but I’m mainly disappointed. And hurt. I didn’t raise you to cuss at your mama or to take the Lord’s name in vain. Or treat anyone with such disrespect. I know there’s a lot on your plate right now, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”
“Yes, because you’ve been here helping me.”
“Am I? It feels like I’ve mainly been a convenient punching bag, especially tonight.”
My heart beat against my rib cage as if it wanted desperately to escape and go with her. “Punching bag?”
She half sighed and half huffed, that universal language of a mom who could take no more. “Think about it, Viv. The things you’ve said on your videos and on television. Then tonight ... I’m sorry about Lucky, really I am, but it was an accident. Maybe I have something on my mind, too, you know.”
“What?” I could feel the scowl twisting my face when I said it. What could she possibly be going through that was as bad as my past month?
Her shoulders slumped. “Carl had a heart attack a few hours ago. I’m a ... widow.”
She said the word as though trying it out. It sounded odd to me, so I could only imagine how it felt to say it.
If Carl had died before she could get a divorce, that meant she, as the wife, would be in charge of his affairs. “How?”
“Oh, while you were in New York, his kids and I had to move him to hospice, but we thought he had a few months at least.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were busy in New York, and I didn’t want to bother you. Especially not after you didn’t respond to my message.”
Didn’t want to bother me? Was I such a bad daughter that she thought I wouldn’t cut my trip short to come help her? “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there.”
“Maybe. But Connie was there, and she helped me. Thank God.”
“Who’s Connie?”
“She’s my ...” Mom stood up straighter and leveled her chin at me as if daring me to disagree with what she said next. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Okay, then. A girlfriend. Huh. So she was serious about not liking men. A lot of things started making sense.
“Why didn’t you tell methis?”
“Because I wanted you to care enough to ask me more the other night. You know, when I was hinting that I might prefer women.”
I was supposed to say something to that, but heaven knew I didn’t know what.
When I didn’t say anything, she headed for the foyer with purpose. I trotted after her like a lost puppy.
“I’m going to say a prayer that Lucky comes home. I believe she will when she gets hungry enough. Really, I do. And you need to get a job, arealjob, not just this pie-in-the-sky YouTube thing that gives you the illusion of success.” She put a hand on each of my shoulders and looked deeply into my eyes, just the way she always had when she was about to give me a dose of encouragement and tough love all rolled into one. These days I looked down at her instead of the other way around, a reminder that I wouldn’t have her around forever. “Sweetheart, I need you to get your shit together.”
I opened my mouth to tell her I almost had a job, but somehow I didn’t think she’d be that impressed with seasonal retail clerk. Not when she’d always wanted me to be more, only to have me hamstring myself by not finishing school.
She took in a deep breath, as if to fortify herself. “I know exactly how you feel right now—”
“No. No, you don’t! You’ve never been marriedthislong. You don’t know what it’s like at all!”
Her eyebrow arched, and she took the comfort of her hands away. “Vivian Loraine, I love you with all my heart, but I don’tlikeyou very much right now. We need a little space in our togetherness.”
A slap would’ve hurt less.
Pain bloomed at each temple, and I massaged each spot with my middle fingers. “Okay, that wasn’t cool. Look, I’m going through a lot, and I just need—”
“What do you need?”
Hurt boiled up again, and I lashed out. “I don’t know!”
