As for my mom these days? Anything was possible. Long ago, I’d promised myself that was one door I’d leave forever closed. Maybe she was dead—OD’d, killed in a drug deal gone wrong, a car accident while she was high. Or maybe she’d cleaned up her act and was living a quiet, productive, and happy life without me. Maybe she’d even gone on to have more babies, to be a good mother to a different little girl.
After all, I’d gone on to have a baby despite my doubts. And at only twenty-six no less. I’d gotten swept up in Aidan’s conviction that I would be a great mother despite everything, his belief that having a baby would transform me. I’d wanted so badly to believe that was true. In many ways it had been, from the time Cleo was two until she was maybe about twelve—those brief years between the terrifying life-and-death stakes of babyhood and the terrorizing uncertainty of parenting a teen. In those middle years,I was an excellent mother, consistent and steady and patient. I followed all the schedules, provided the right food, limited screen time, and maximized sleep. But as Cleo got older, it was like my navigation system started faltering, and my doubt quickly fed on itself. Soon I had lost my way entirely, and I was doing the opposite of what all the guides advised: holding on too tightly.
It did not help that I felt so alone.
When Cleo was two weeks old, Aidan had gone to Paris to interview a famous French bioethicist for his first documentary, about shrinking ice sheets. I remember standing in the dark nursery holding a screaming Cleo in my arms, trying to make it through my fifth sleepless night, when Aidan called. I started to cry as soon as I heard his voice.
“You just need to relax, Kat,” he’d said, sighing. “She can feel your stress.”
“I can’t do this, Aidan,” I’d whispered, even though what I’d really meant wasI can’t do this alone.
“Of course you can do it,” Aidan had said, and went on to describe how beautiful it was outside his hotel window, the sun rising over the Eiffel Tower. “I’m right here to help.”
And I’d thought,What’s wrong with me?I was so lucky—a kind, supportive husband, a beautiful baby, a good job, a gorgeous home, money—things I never dreamed of having back when I was growing up at Haven House or even later, after I’d gone to live with Gladys in her beautiful Victorian home in Greenwich. And yet, there I was with so much to be grateful for, but I felt miserable and terrified all the time. Even a little angry, if I was completely honest—at Aidan, but also atCleo,who was just a tiny, helpless baby.
Aidan was off filming for much of Cleo’s early years. He missed her colic and the four times she needed stiches and the months of night terrors and the potty training and the time her impossible third-grade teacher made her cry. He was there, though, for the bright patches in between—the holidays and the parties and theawards. For the part where you saythisis why people have a family. To run a single finger through the icing on the cake of domesticity that I baked daily from scratch. But I was there for all of it despite my grueling work hours, which required the use of two nannies in separate shifts. Because you could outsource caregiving, but you could never outsource being a mother.
And now here was Janine making a beeline for me, ready to remind me of all the ways I’d screwed up in the end anyway.
“Janine!” I called back, my voice high-pitched and frantic instead of cheerful like I’d intended.
I’d forgotten entirely that I’d actually heard of this restaurant from Janine—I was still on an old group email that occasionally went out, Park Slope moms, pooling recommendations. It had not occurred to me that I might risk running into her herewithDoug. Of course, Janine didn’t know Aidan and I were separated. I couldn’t risk Annie finding out and spilling it to Cleo.
“Oh, my goodness, Kat, how are you?” Janine asked with an easy laugh and a wave of her small silver clutch. She looked around. “Is Aidan here?”
“No, I’m meeting a client.”
Janine’s eyes flicked up mischievously. “A client, huh? This place is awfully cozy for that.”
“Is it?” I looked around now myself.
She raised her eyebrows, but I could see her decide not to press.
“Well, a friend of mine from college works at Tom Ford, andwehad way too much wine at their show. So now we’re going to pretend to eat something and try to sober up. Or maybe we’ll have more wine.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy. Then it was like she remembered something. “Oh … How isCleo,by the way?”
“Cleo?”
“Oh, sorry. You look like a deer in headlights.” Janine barked out a laugh, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I know things havebeen a little … dicey with that, you know, boy situation …” She rolled her eyes. “Boys are always the problem.”
Were Annie and Cleo back in touch? Or … had Cleo reached out to Janine to talk? Cleo had always been enamored with Janine. For an unfortunate second, I pictured the two of them cozying up across the street, having the kind of mother-daughter chats that we hadn’t had inyears.
“Yes, Kyle …”
Janine grimaced. “Right. Anyway, I think you did the right thing.”
But it sounded like maybe she thought the opposite.
I forced a smile. “Not sure Cleo agrees.”
“What do they know?” Janine shrugged. “The real problem is that we agreed to let them go to college so close to home. Annie is back asleep in her childhood bedroom a couple times a week. I mean, I love the kid, but come on. Out of the nest already!”
Of courseAnnie would be home toomuch.Annie and Janine were always inseparable, having coffee on their stoop on weekends or heading to yoga class, giggling. And this was back when Annie was in high school. What teenagerwantsto hang out with their mom?
“Come on!” Janine’s girlfriend called out. “They have our table!”
“Gotta run.” She leaned in and pressed her cool, smooth cheek to mine. “You hang in there now. And don’t worry about Cleo. They driveusinsane, but that’s sotheycan be fine. It’s like the circle of life. Or Darwinism. Or something.” She walked a few steps, then turned back. “And, hey, come across the street. Have a glass of wine and vent. It’s been too long.”
I nodded and smiled. “Sounds great.”
