“Mom’s never been here,” said Flora. “Let’s bring her as soon as she comes home!” The trio fell silent—this was the first time any of them had said “when” with such certainty, and not “if.”
“She’s going to love this place,” said Lee.
“Is her favorite flavor still pistachio?” asked Charlotte.
“Yes,” said Flora.
“She always got pistachio! Even as a little girl,” said Charlotte. “Such a sophisticated palate.”
Lee smiled at her mom, who added, “Lee, you always wanted Oreo.”
Lee, certain she’d just been insulted but not clear on the details, asked, “Wait, what’s wrong with Oreo?”
Charlotte shrugged, making a moue with her bright lips. “A bit pedestrian,” she noted.
Lee exhaled hard through her nose and did not respond.
On the walk back to Regan’s apartment, they chatted aboutCharlotte’s new favorite Greek game show,Rouk Zouk;Flora’s upcoming school trip to Nafplion, a walled city in the Peloponnese; and Isabelle and Anastasia, who were, according to Isabelle’s Instagram, eating sushi at a nightclub on a beach (im goodindeed, thought Lee). When the three women arrived at Regan’s apartment, Lee could see Yassus hiding in his cozy spot behind an oleander shrub, waiting for Lee to be alone before he approached. As Charlotte rummaged through her oversize rattan purse from the J.Crew Factory outlet store (it was really more like a picnic basket than a purse), Flora blurted, “I’m just so happy! Mom’s OK and it’s like…it’s like we’re a family!”
“We are a family,” said Lee.
“I suppose I’m the elderly matriarch,” said Charlotte.
“The glamorous queen,” said Lee.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows, considering, then nodded.
65
Flora
Flora had imagined the momentfor weeks: her mother coming home and pulling Flora into one of her overly long hugs, whispering, “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry.” They would make PopBuster microwave popcorn, cue up the next “ep” of the show they called “GG” (Gilmore Girls). Grammy Charlotte and Aunt Lee could pack up and leave, or stay, whatever. Regan would tell Flora everything, confess her lies, cry about the fact that François was some criminal (or criminal syndicate) who only wanted her money. Flora would console her mom, insist that her mom deserved better and would find it, and Flora and Regan would be closer than ever—just like Rory and Lorelai, albeit in grimy Athens and not the fictional haven of Stars Hollow.
But when her mom finally returned, she didn’t rush into Flora’s arms. Regan paused uncomfortably in the apartment doorway, looking smaller and bonier than Flora remembered, her face an awful gray. Her mom’s eyes scanned the apartment like she was looking for something—or like she was planning her next escape.
“Mom?” Flora had been sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop, pretending to work on her computer science assignmentbut really just waiting. “Mom, you’re home!” Flora said, trying to sound celebratory. Already a cold knowledge was growing in her gut.
“Sweetie,” said Regan. She smiled, but it was fake and without apology, as if she was super worn-out from a long day—not as if she’d abandoned her children, given away all their money, and languished unconscious in a rural Turkish hospital, almost dying and leaving Flora alone in the world.
Flora closed her laptop and stood. Should she hug her mother? Wait for her mother to hug her? Her mom just stood there. “Are you OK?” she asked. “Do you hurt anywhere, Mom?”
“I’m fine, honey.”
No,thought Flora,no!This couldn’t be happening. Her mom wanted to return to the world of lies, to pretend everything was fine, and Flora couldn’t do it. She could not do it. Auntie Lee had given her a taste of what life could be like if she said what was true, no matter how crummy the truth was, and Flora recoiled at the thought of returning to Faketown. It tooktoo muchfrom her to live in Faketown. It crushed your soul!
Every nerve ending on Flora’s body hurt as she summoned the strength to confront Regan. “Mom,” she said. She spoke loudly, in an intense almost-wail: “Mom! You’re not fine, Mom!”
In her pocket, Regan’s cell buzzed.
“Mom,” said Flora. “Please, Mom…”
But Regan pulled out her new iPhone. Flora understood her expression. It was the look her mom got when she was deep in one of her François conversations, like the rest of the world had faded away.
“Mom!”
Regan held up a finger—just one second—and sadness grewin Flora’s chest and throat, pushing through her face and to her temples.
Regan turned from her daughter. Flora’s jaw went loose with despair as she watched her mother choose the fantasy of being loved…over actually loving Flora, who was standing right there.
