Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next day, Kat left for California. The three of us spent the morning shoving boxes into her U-Haul. We worked mostly in silence, speaking only of traffic and routes and the best cities for her to stop at during her cross-country journey.

When she was finally fully loaded and ready to go, my mother ran to the nearest Starbucks to get her a coffee for the road. Kat jiggled her keys and swallowed. “I’m sorry I said those things yesterday.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” I sighed. “After Daniel, you were the one I hurt the most by doing what I did, and I should have explained myself a long time ago.”

“Yes, you should have,” she said bluntly. “Don’t treat me like a child anymore, OK?”

“I’ll try not to,” I promised.

“And I’ll try not to be such a brat.” Her voice was teasing, but there was also sincerity in it. I bent over and hugged her tightly. Part of me wished we’d never had yesterday’s confrontation; what if it changed things between us? But the bigger part knew it was long overdue and that all relationships changed.

Mom returned and handed Kat her venti latte. “Don’t drive for more than five hours at a time,” she warned.

“I won’t, I promise.” Kat took a deep breath. “I’m leaving now,” she said firmly, “before we all start bawling again.”

“Call me tonight,” my mother and I said in unison.

I savored her laugh. Kat’s laugh sounded different over the phone. It lacked all the depth and richness it carried in person. “I will call you both.” Tears were in her voice, so I practically tossed her into the cab of the truck. She was right. We were ten seconds from another sob fest.

My mother and I watched the truck disappear down Fullerton, headed for 90 West. When it was out of sight, I blew out a long breath. Now I just had to make it back to my apartment before collapsing. After yesterday’s meltdown, I’d drank two glasses of red wine on an empty stomach before crawling into bed, and the resulting hangover was screaming in my temples and gut.

I’d pushed everything Max-related into a deep, dark pit in the center of my chest, but shit wasn’t going to stay there. Between Kat’s departure and the Max fiasco, I had a solid Sunday afternoon of crying planned.

“Take some Advil, for God’s sake, Tess. I can almost see your headache.” My mother handed me a couple of pills and a bottle of water.

Too tired to argue with her, I gulped them down. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said dutifully. I doubted that either of us would want to chat, but I’d need to check that Kat’s physical departure hadn’t triggered another depressive episode.

“I’ll drive you home now,” she said. She was using her no-nonsense tone, and if I refused, it would definitely lead to a fight. I was too weary for a fight today. Plus, a warm ride in her car sounded a lot easier than navigating the CTA right now. So I just shrugged and got in.

When we pulled up to my apartment building, she parked and turned off the engine. “Oh. Uh, you don’t have to come up,” I said. I really, really didn’t want company today. Especially hers. I was still too overwhelmed by everything that had happened the day before. “It’s super messy.”

“So what else is new?” she shot back. “I’m coming up. I want to talk.”

“Fine.” I got out, resisting the urge to slam the car door. She didn’t deserve a Tess tantrum, but God, I just wanted to be alone.

I plopped on my sofa as soon as we entered my apartment. I hadn’t been expecting guests; I had no refreshments to offer. Undaunted, she looked through my kitchen cupboards until she found my ancient teapot and got it going on the stove. “I don’t have any tea,” I called rudely.

She opened her bag and pulled out a box of her favorite honey vanilla chamomile blend. “I brought my own.”

Foiled again. I waited in silence until the pot began to whistle and she poured two mugs. I almost resisted out of spite when she handed me one, but damned if a hot cup of tea didn’t actually sound perfect right now.

“What did you want to talk about?” I finally asked, curiosity triumphing over my annoyance. I couldn’t remember the last time my mom had initiated a Talk with me. Yesterday we’d both been forced into one by circumstance. Good God, I hoped she didn’t think that was the new normal.

“Some of your behavior,” she said primly.

Some of my behavior? Like I was a bratty teenager? Unbelievable. I squinted at her, the weight of sadness on my chest transitioning into a flare of anger.

She ignored my expression and went on. “Your little outburst at the end of the brunch yesterday. How you sent Max packing for no reason.”

I glared at her and scooted a few inches farther away. “It wasn’t for ‘no reason.’ You saw what I did to Daniel. Maybe you understood why I did it, but it was still a terrible thing to do. I hurt him so badly. Kat was right. Max is just like Daniel. I can’t hurt him like that.”

She leaned back against the sofa cushion and steepled her fingers in her lap. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as though she was choosing her words carefully. “With all due respect to Kat, I spoke to Max, and I don’t think he’s much like Daniel at all.”

Before I could protest, she held up an imperious finger and went on. “Sure, they’re both kind and intelligent—unlike every other guy you’ve introduced us to in seven years,” she said dryly. “You can forgive Kat for making too basic of a connection.”

I exhaled loudly through my nose, shaking my head quickly. Mom was definitely wrong.

“Listen,” Mom insisted. “Apart from being nice and smart, Max in no way reminded me of Daniel.” She held up her hand and began ticking off points on her fingers. “Daniel was, in a wonderful way, simple. He cared intensely about his work and his family, but didn’t have a lot left over for anything else.”

I stopped shaking my head. She had a point. Daniel would talk enthusiastically for hours about anything related to his job, and he knew every single birthday, hobby, hope, and dream of every member of his extended family. But he tended to tune out when I rhapsodized about one of my favorite mystery novels or when I wondered aloud about how the hundreds of emerging tech companies would change the Chicago business landscape.

“Max seems more complex to me,” she continued. “While he clearly loves his family and his IT work, I talked to him for fifteen minutes and our conversation went in a lot of different tangents. He was enthusiastic and interested in everything.” Memories of Max reciting the history of bourbon and the hundreds of books on his Kindle popped into my head, unbidden.

She smiled, her lips smirking a bit. “Max also seems a touch more wicked.”

“Mother!” I exclaimed, heat streaking up my neck and onto my cheeks. Maybe we were bonding, but we were not going to compare the men sexually.

Of course, now that the thought was in my head, I couldn’t help it. Daniel hadn’t been a prude or anything, but sex with him had been more about comfort than excitement. More gentle enjoyment than frantic pleasure. He was always tender and reverential.

I’d only had sex with Max a couple of times, but I’d, uh, describe it very differently.

“I wasn’t speaking about the bedroom,” my mom said, fully smirking now as she clearly understood the turn of my thoughts. “I just meant that he seems a little spicy, a little edgy with his humor. He’s quick, he’s witty, he likes to banter. Which you absolutely need to keep you interested.”

I felt disoriented again. All these years, I’d felt unseen by my mother. But she’d been paying close attention.

“Finally,” she said, pointing hard at me, “the biggest difference is how they each see you. Daniel imagined you as a delicate flower who wanted to be worshipped and cared for. Someone who wanted the difficult decisions made for her. Someone who was looking for a champion.” Guilt swamped me for the thousandth time. He wasn’t entirely wrong; that’s how I was when he first met me.

Again, my mother followed my thoughts. “You were that way for six months tops, Tess. After that, you struggled. You tried—in ways that were too small, unfortunately—to show Daniel your real self. But he wasn’t interested in changing his fantasy for the reality. He didn’t want to see that you didn’t need a champion.”

Her tone brightened. “But Max seems to see you for exactly who you are. I suspect he’s encountered you at less than your best already—” uh, yeah, multiple times “—and he was still looking at you yesterday like you were the sun.”

In my head, I heard Max’s voice from Fizz. You charge around the office in those goddamn boots, and I can’t take my eyes off you. I sit in meetings and watch everyone get nervous when you zero in on them with your smart-ass mouth. You are the most independent woman I’ve ever met, and it turns me on like I’ve never been turned on in my entire fucking life. I’d remember that little speech until I was dead in the grave. It was the best thing I’d ever heard in my entire life.

Daniel would have disliked the boots. He hated the rare occasions when my smart-ass mouth appeared around him.

Before I could reconcile all of this, my mom’s voice got louder. “One other thing, Tess. I understand the guilt. But you didn’t kill Daniel. He had a bad year or two.” Her tone turned sarcastic, maybe a little bitter. “We’ve all had bad years.” She brushed her hands together briskly. “He survived. He’s probably very happy by now with someone much more suited to him.”

She took a deep, bracing breath before pulling me into her arms for a full-on hug. I turned stiff as a tree trunk, my eyes as wide as saucers. We hadn’t hugged in years. But she didn’t pull away. “It’s time to let all that go,” she whispered. “It’s in the past, and the only person you’re hurting now is yourself.”

“You sound like my therapist.” I sniffled, still rigid against her.

There was a long pause. “I didn’t know you were seeing a therapist,” she said. “How long?”

“Off and on since the wedding,” I said.

I felt her nod against the top of my head. “Good.” Gradually, I softened against her until my head was on her shoulder, and I just closed my eyes and breathed in and out. We sat like this for a long, long time.

“Do you think that maybe we could go together sometime?” My mom’s voice was quiet and hesitant. “To therapy, I mean. I’ve wanted to do that with you for years. To try to heal from everything that happened while you were in high school. You were put in an atrocious position. I know there’s resentment on both sides… We’ve never recovered. But I very much want to.”

If she could be this brave and plainspoken, so could I. “Me too.”

Something she’d said yesterday to Kat had been niggling on the edge of my mind and conscience. “You said one of the reasons you didn’t ever want to tell Kat about…stuff…was that you wanted one daughter whose love for you wasn’t complicated and diminished.”

She nodded again. I cleared my throat. “It’s true that…ah…things got complicated. But…” Jesus fucking Christ, I hated these true confessions. This month really was going to be the death of me. I forced it out anyway. “My love for you was never diminished though.”

She squeezed me tighter, and I was beyond grateful that she didn’t say anything in response. A little unnerved, however, to realize it was because she was holding back sobs.

I needed to lighten the mood ASAP. “I’d say we should take a selfie of us hugging on my couch and send it to Kat, but I think she’d be so shocked she’d drive off the road.”

She snorted and then smiled ruefully. “You know, she’d probably think it was worth it for her to move to San Francisco just to get us talking like this again.”

“Then don’t ever tell her,” I said quickly.

“I’m not stupid.” My mom sniffed. “Between the two of us, we’ll concoct some sort of plan to get her back here in a few years.”

“Deal.” We smiled at each other until I felt uncomfortable again and had to deflect. “Well, Mom,” I said breezily. “After such a cathartic scene, I feel like that uplifting Carly Simon song from Working Girl should be playing in the background.”

Immediately, she held up her phone. “‘Let the River Run’? I have it on iTunes. Should I put it on?”

Terrified she was serious, I leapt back a foot before I saw that her shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter. I’d truly forgotten how funny she could be. Before I knew it, I was giggling too.