Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Hush,” she says with a frown, as she picks up her menu. “That isn’t the sort of thing you want someone overhearing.”
I roll my eyes and pick up my own menu, mostly because I’m starving. Colin and I did a hell of a job avoiding each other after Rebecca’s appearance yesterday, and since he was hogging the kitchen last night, I skipped dinner and am thus starving.
I order the French toast, and Mom gets some healthy-sounding quiche before she surprises me by asking a blunt question.
“Why me?”
“What do you mean, why you?” I ask, smiling in thanks as the server tops off my mimosa from a crystal carafe.
“You’re upset about this Rebecca situation, and you came to me. Why?”
“Honestly? That’s a good question,” I admit. “I didn’t really think about it. I was just up all night thinking about it, I needed to talk to someone, and next thing I knew, I was on your front porch.”
It’s a lame answer, but the one I try to tell her with my eyes is the real one. The better one. Because you’re my mom.
I hope she understands. And I think she does because her eyes seem just a little misty before she turns and gives the server a chiding look for dropping a minuscule amount of mimosa onto the white tablecloth.
“So, about this Rebecca woman,” she says.
I make a grunting noise and slump down a little in my chair. But instead of telling me to sit up straight the way she used to, she simply studies me for a moment.
“It matters,” she says softly.
I look up. “What?”
“His relationship with her bothers you. It shouldn’t, but it does. Do I have that right?”
“Unfortunately,” I say, my voice quiet as I sit up straighter once more. “I know I shouldn’t be upset. That I have no right to be upset. Our marriage isn’t a real one; I don’t even know the man, not really. And yet I’ve gotten to know him a little in these few weeks, and when she showed up, I felt …”
I take a breath, not quite sure how to explain. “I don’t know what I felt, or what I’m feeling, but whatever it is, I feel it here,” I say, placing my fist just below my boobs. “It’s just like … a knot.”
My mother says nothing as she takes a sip of her mimosa.
“She’s all wrong for him,” I babble on. “I think that’s my problem with the situation.”
She gives a slight knowing smile. We both know that’s not my problem with the situation—not my only problem, anyway.
“Well,” she says, finally. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be here,” I say in exasperation. Then I backpedal. “No, that’s not what I mean, I just … I could really use some advice here.”
She nods in understanding. “What did Colin say about the situation when you discussed Rebecca?”
“We didn’t discuss it. I mean he started to, but then I tried to be the bigger person by suggesting he resolve things with her first. I figured after that was over, we would talk, but instead, he refuses to even look at me.”
“Hmm. That does sound like a man, doesn’t it? They like to pace around like caged animals when they have something on their mind that they don’t want to deal with.”
“Okay, so … what do I do?” I ask, leaning forward, a little desperate. “You’ve been married for nearly forty years. Any advice?”
“Space,” she says immediately. “Give the man a bit of space. Especially that man. He’s more complicated than most.”
“Space,” I repeat. “Okay, that sounds simple enough. I can do that.”
My mom nods. “Of course you can. Though, if I might suggest …”
“By all means …”
“Put a time limit on how much space you give him. You never know when a little space can turn into a decade. The damage is harder to undo then.”
“But not impossible to undo the damage,” I say softly, knowing we’re no longer talking about Colin and me. “Right?”
She gives me a little smile. “No, dear. Not impossible.”
Chapter 20
Saturday, September 12
I take Mom’s advice and give Colin some space.
I also take her advice and put a time limit on it. One week. One week is how long I give Colin to come out of his sulk on his own.
For the past seven days, he’s done an impressive job of pretending I don’t exist. He skipped Sunday dinner after my mom and I went to church under the guise of having to work—I think we both know who he was “working” with. And since then, every time I’ve been in the apartment, he finds a reason not to be.
I’ve been understanding; in fact, I’ve even tried to help him out. I’ve made a point of longer days at my rented office, happy hours with girlfriends I’ve wanted to reconnect with, and I’ve done more shopping in the past week than in the past year.