Her eyebrow arched even higher. I would swear it was about to touch her hairline.
“I’m sorry. I won’t yell again.”
“Yes, yes you will. Welcome to the anger stage. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
“But you didn’t ... you rarely if ever ...”
She looked as though she might reach out and pat my cheek, but she just smiled. “Where do you think you learned about screaming into pillows?”
I tried a different tactic because I couldn’t stand to have one more person or animal leave me. “Mom, you know you can’t see well at night. At least wait until morning.”
She smiled as if she’d heard that line before, probably from one of her exes. “I won’t go too far tonight.”
“Mama,please.” The two words scraped past the lump in my throat. I hadn’t called her Mama since I was a young girl. In fact, the last time I’d called her Mama was back when I thought she could fix anything, before any of her divorces and long before mine.
She paused at the door. “How many people found out about your divorce before I did, Vivian?”
“I ... I don’t know.” But I did. At least I think I did. I could think of three off the top of my head, which seemed like a shameful number, so I kept it to myself.
“But I wasn’t the first person you called, was I?”
“No.” It felt like the wrong answer, but it was the only one I had.
She sighed, and the sheer longing in the sound made tears prick my eyes. “Once, just once, I would like to be thefirstperson you call and not the last. I’d certainly like to find out before you announce it to the nation.”
Oh.
I’d been so worried about how Mom would say “I told you so” that I hadn’t thought about how she mightfeelabout my news.
“You watch my videos?”
“Of course! You’re my daughter. I keep up with everything you do, and that’s why I can tell you how many people found out about your divorce before your own mother.”
I couldn’t answer. My voice box refused to work.
“I saw your video an hour before you called. Three hundred fifty-two thousand four hundred and fifty-three people found out about your divorce before I did. And I felt so very small when I realized that. What did I do wrong?”
“Mom, I—”
She held out a hand to stop me.
“What kind of mother have I been?” She was talking to herself now. “I know I raised a capable woman, a kind and smart woman. I knowsheis a good mother because my grandson is perfect in every way. But what kind of mother am I? A bad one, I guess.”
Without waiting for a reply, she closed the door behind her and disappeared.
Like Mitch.
Like Rachel.
Like Lucky.
My mental chest of drawers teetered on the edge and finally, finally tipped over, emptying all those drawers of the feelings I’d wanted to examine later and strewing them all over my oppressively quiet home.
Rationally, I knew she wasn’t saying a forever goodbye, but it felt like it.
In fact, it felt very much like we were about to lose something we’d worked so hard to gain. I thought of how we’d watchedJeopardywhile she lounged in her underwear, how we’d suffered through kraut and wieners together, how she’d joined my friends in the cul-de-sac seamlessly.
I dropped to the floor, realization and regret swirling in the pit of my stomach.
