The Things We Do for Love

Mom leaned against the doorway. There was a dreamy, self-satisfied smile on her face. “This one is different.”


Lauren wanted to say As in different species? But she held back. She was in a crappy, irritable mood. It wouldn’t do any good to tangle with her mother. “You always say that. Jerry Eckstrand was different, all right. And that guy who drove the VW bus—what was his name? Dirk? He was definitely different.”

“You’re being a bitch.” Mom took a long drag on her cigarette. As she exhaled, she nibbled on her thumbnail. “Are you having your period?”

“No, but we’re behind in the rent again and you seem to have retired.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I might be falling in love.”

“The last time you said that, his name was Snake. God knows you can never go wrong with a guy named after a reptile. You pretty much know what you’re getting.”

“There is definitely something wrong with you.” Mom crossed the room and sat down on the sofa. She put her feet up on the coffee table. “I really think this guy might be The One, Lo.”

Lauren thought she heard a crack in her mother’s voice, but that wasn’t possible. Men had always drifted in and out of her mother’s life. Mostly out. She’d fallen in love with dozens of them. They never stuck around for long.

“I was havin’ drinks with Phoebe, and just gettin’ ready to leave, when Jake walked in.” Mom sucked in a long drag on her cigarette, exhaled. “He looked like a gunfighter, coming in to the bar for a shoot-out. When the light hit his face, I thought for a second it was Brad Pitt.” She laughed. “The next morning, o’ course, when I woke up with him, he didn’t look much like a movie star. But he kissed me. In the light of day. A kiss.”

Lauren felt the tiniest of openings between them. Such a moment was rare, and she couldn’t help moving toward it. She sat down beside her mom. “You sound … different when you say his name.”

For once, Mom didn’t ease away. “I didn’t think it would happen for me.” She seemed to realize what she’d said, what she’d revealed, so she smiled. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I guess I could say hi to him.”

“Yeah. He thinks you’re a figment of my imagination.” Mom laughed. “Like I would pretend to have a kid.”

Lauren couldn’t believe she’d walked into it again. Or that it still hurt. She started to get up, but her mother stopped her. Actually touched her.

“And the sex. Holy shit, it’s good.” She took another drag, exhaled, smiling dreamily.

Smoke swirled around Lauren’s face, clogged her nostrils. She gagged at the smell and felt her stomach rise.

She ran for the bathroom, where she threw up. Afterward, still shaky, she brushed her teeth and went back to the dining room table. “How many times do I have to ask you not to exhale your smoke in my face?”

Mom stabbed out the cigarette in the overloaded ashtray and stared at Lauren. “Puking is a new response.”

Lauren grabbed her plate from the table and headed for the sink. “I gotta go. David and I are studying together tonight.”

“Who’s David?”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Nice. I’ve been dating him for almost four years.”

“Oh, him. The good-looking one.” Mom gazed at her through the still-lingering smoke, and then took another drink of her Coke. For once, Lauren felt as if her mother were actually seeing her. “You have a lot going for you, Lauren. Trust me when I tell you that a hard dick can ruin everything.”

“Yeah. I think Mrs. Brady said the same thing to Marcia.”

Mom didn’t laugh; neither did she look away. It was a long moment before she said softly, “You know what makes a girl throw up for no reason, don’t you?”



“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this dress,” Angie said, studying herself in the mirror in their hotel room.

“I didn’t talk you into it,” Mama said from the bathroom. “I bought it for you.”

Angie turned sideways, noticed how the red silk clung to her body. The dress Mama had chosen from the sale rack at Nordstrom was one Angie never would have bought for herself. Red was such a look-at-me color. Even more outrageous was the pure sexiness of the dress. Angie usually preferred classic elegance.

Normally, she would have refused to wear it, but she and her mother had had such a wonderful day. Lunch at the Georgian, facials at Gene Juarez’s downtown spa, and shopping at Nordstrom. When Mama had seen this dress, she’d screamed and made a beeline.

At first Angie had thought it was just a joke. The dress was a scarlet halter-style with a plunging back. Thousands of tiny silver bugle beads glittered along the bodice. And even at seventy percent off, the price tag was hefty.

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