Her mother clicked away with her knitting needles as though she wanted to punish the yarn.
“Would you like to see my dress?” Lisa asked.
“I would’ve liked to see you trying it on in the first place. It’s a little late now.”
“I’m sorry about that. My stylist sent over a dozen for me to choose from. She knows my taste, and we picked from there. I had them altered in Cliffside Bay, simply because it was easiest.” She hadn’t done it the old-fashioned way as she’d imagined she would. Not that her mother was in that scenario, either. She’d always thought Pepper and Maggie would take her shopping forthe dress. They would spend the day together, trying on gowns and drinking champagne. Instead, they got one fitting together. When they still lived in Manhattan, there were several shops they had always stopped at to peer at the dresses through the window. That was before everything changed. These days, she couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing her. Like today, she couldn’t trust that someone wouldn’t whip out a camera phone and record her private moments. Finding a wedding dress seemed impossible in that scenario.
Going with her mother? She cringed just thinking about it. Mom’s cruel words came back to her, and anger took the place of pity or guilt. “Mom, those things you said downstairs… I cannot let you do that to me anymore. I deserve better from you.”
“Better than what? Telling you the truth? Men use us up and spit us out.”
That wasn’t how her parents’ marriage had gone. Would her mother ever see her part in it? How she’d driven her father away? She wouldn’t go there. Not today. Probably not ever.
“I’m sorry about Dad.”
“Which part? That I gave him my best years only to be dumped when I’m old and useless to anyone?”
“You’re hardly useless. You were pretty badass just now.”
Mom’s knitting needles stopped clicking for a split second. “I honed that skill from thirty years in the middle school classroom. That’s nothing.”
“It’s my life now. Constant scrutiny. Cell phone cameras at every turn.”
The knitting needles were back at it, pummeling each other. “You were the one who wanted this. Boo-hoo. You’re rich and famous. Let’s cry about it.”
“Mom, that’s not fair.”
“Correct. Life’s not fair.”
“You’re not fair. Not when it comes tome, anyway.” Lisa couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was too tired to pretend.
“What exactly was I supposed to do differently? You were weak like your father. It was my job to make you tougher.”
Lisa stayed quiet. There would be no winning this argument. Her mother would not see it in the same way Lisa did. She would not see that her favoritism of David was a wound too deep to heal. Especially since Mom would never admit it was even true.
“Did you know I almost studied art in France? I had a scholarship for a program in Paris,” Mom said.
“What? No, I never knew that. When?”
“It was supposed to be my third year of college. But I became pregnant with you and your brother. Instead of Paris, I married your dad. I changed my major from art to education.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Your father was an education major. My mother sat me down and told me to get my head out of the clouds. Marrying a teacher meant I’d need to work too, unless we wanted to starve.”
“I always thought you loved teaching.” Mom had taught life sciences, including culinary arts and fashion.
“Lisa, I didn’t have a choice.” She spoke slowly, as if Lisa were too stupid to follow the conversation. “It was either embrace teaching obnoxious preteens how to make chocolate chip cookies or live in poverty the rest of my life.”
“What was your medium?”
“I dabbled in painting and sculpture, but I wanted to run a gallery. I had my whole life planned out.”
“And then we came and ruined it all?” Lisa asked, already knowing the answer.
“Your father was just a guy I liked. One night we got carried away. It’s as simple as that.”
And as complicated.
