She laughed. It was the husky rumble of a woman who’d known her way around a pack of cigarettes, even if she had finally kicked the habit about ten years ago.
“Silly girl. Now what is wrong with you? Something is wrong with you.”
“Nothing.”
“Vivian Loraine, do not even try lying to me.”
I searched for the words, but tears came in their place. I swiped at them fiercely.
“Vivian?”
“Mitch is leaving me.”
Mom said a lot of words, one of which I’d never heard her use before, none of which were complimentary.
“I ... I ... kicked him out.”
“Good girl,” she said. “He’s never deserved you.”
My whole body warmed from the compliment, even if she was obligated to say it, being my mother and all.
“I reminded him that I own this house and told him he is no longer welcome. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he remembered that the house is in my name.”
There was a pause as if there were something Mom wanted to say, but then she said, “Good for you.”
I waited for her to say, “I told you so.” I waited for her to point out that I’d been entirely too smug all these years, smug about how I’d done all the little things to keep my marriage going.
She said nothing. Somehow that was worse.
“You’ll call me if you need anything?” she finally asked.
“Of course.” And by that I meant,Of course I will not.
“I suppose I should call Dylan back?”
“That would be good. Let me know if he tells you anything I should know. I have no idea how to handle this with him. Seems like he was having a hard-enough time before Mitch pulled this stunt.”
“I will,” she said softly. “Vivian?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Call me if you need me. I mean it.”
We said our goodbyes and I hung up, oddly relieved. Mom and I hadn’t been close for a while, but that conversation hadn’t gone anywhere nearly as badly as I had thought it might.
She is your mother.
True, now I knew better what a mother would do for her child. A surge of anger coursed through my body, anger at Mitch. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands.
Or maybe he could be hit by a bus.
At least then no one would think twice about my crying. Dylan and I would mourn, but there would be closure. We wouldn’t have to go through whatever the hell we were going to have to go through for this divorce.
Vivian, that’s awful.
Remorse shoved anger right out of the way. How could I possibly wish such grief upon my son? Or on Mitch’s father?
God, I was a hot mess.
