“It never lasts. Sooner or later, he figures out she’s there only for his money.”
Slitting my eyes at Mom, I ask, “Are you sure?”
“No one,” she says, “not even the best actor, can hide the absence of love for more than a year. In a marriage, there are too many situations, big and small, that together end up unmasking the charade.”
“What are you saying, Mom?”
She lifts a hand and lets it fall. “I’m sorry, I can’t explain it any better.”
“When your mother and I met in Bordeaux,” Dad says, “she had a good life there and a great job at the mayor’s office.”
“Really?” I goggle at her.
“It was an entry-level position but a good one,” she says. “With prospects.”
“You never told me about that job.”
She frowns. “It was just a detail…”
“It wasn’t!”It changes my perception of you.
Mom searches my face.
How can I explain this with tact?
Cautiously, I begin, “I thought you finished PA school but never earned a living, to come into your own. I thought you went straight from living off your parents to living off your husband.”
“When we met,” Dad says, “I hadn’t graduated yet. I was in debt, broke, a lot poorer than your mom.” He chuckles. “She paid for my drinks when we went out.”
Now it’s him I’m gawking at.
“It was the following year,” he continues, “that I joined a law firm, moved on to the London Stock Exchange, and started making money.” He glances at Mom. “We were in a long-distance relationship at that time.”
“What happened then?” I ask.
I can’t believe they never told me their story before!I mean, I was familiar with the general plot, but not with the finer details, which sort of changes everything. Then again, I never asked. I had those patriarchal archetypes in my head, and my parents fit in them all too neatly.
“I hated it,” Mom says.
I blink at her. “What?”
“The long-distance thing. And, so…” She glances at Dad. “Pretty Womanhad just come out, so I shamelessly stole Julia Roberts’s line and told your dad I wanted the fairy tale.”
He laughs. “Yes, you did.”
“I said to him we couldn’t go on like that anymore,” she continues, “and that I was willing to quit my job and move to London to be with him. My English was good enough to work as a waitress in a café or a pub.”
“And?” I lean toward her.
“I moved in with him, and waitressed for two years.”
“Is that true?”
She flinches at my outrageous question.
“I’m sorry, Mom!” I take her hand. “I had no idea. I’d assumed…”
Her expression softening, she pats my hand. “That’s OK. I had assumed things, too. These details are clearly important to you. It follows now that I think of it.” She stands up. “I must check on that duck.”
