I was too nervous to even try to smile. “I couldn’t live with myself if I tossed something that Rita wanted to keep. Do you think either you or she could find a time to help me go through everything? Once we sort out what I should keep and what should go, I can put it all away.”
She frowned. “She’s at camp right now, and I have an appointment that I can’t miss.”
I could feel sweat forming near my temples. If I were, say, Hadley, this would’ve been a normal conversation. But I wasn’t, and I was beginning to understand just how rusty I was at asserting myself.
As I thought again about what Ben had said, a solution came to me. “Then why don’t I tackle the kitchen today? It’s the most-used room in the average home, and that’s typically the best place to start,” I said. Then I held my breath, waiting for her to tell me that wouldn’t work for her, and actually I could go take a long walk off a short pier and find someone else’s home to organize.
But she just nodded. “Sure—I trust your judgment. I can help you tomorrow afternoon, if that might work.”
I broke into a smile. “It does. Thank you.”
The minute Melinda left the room, I pulled out my phone and texted Ben. What do you know? Boundaries are my best friend.
TWENTY-THREE
LAINE
I’d just made breakfast for myself the following morning when my mother called. Although it was the first time I’d heard from her since I left, I hesitated because I didn’t really want to pick up when I had no idea how our conversation would go. With each day that passed, I felt less raw about what I’d learned about her and Reggie—and me and Ben. And yet the fact that she hadn’t called to apologize or check in on me only served to remind me that, any way I sliced it, I wasn’t her priority. No wonder I wasn’t in a hurry to leave Ann Arbor.
But maybe I was still feeling emboldened by my conversation with Melinda the day before, because I hit the answer button. I needed to start facing my problems head-on, rather than constantly avoiding conflict.
“Laine?” said my mother. “It’s Mom.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Well, dear, I was just wondering when you were coming back.”
My heart sank. Here I was thinking she wasn’t worried about me, when it was possible she didn’t even remember our fight? “Do you recall what we talked about when I left?” I asked.
“Regarding Reggie?” she said. “I do.”
So she did remember.
“Laine, I’d really rather not discuss that again.”
My irritation immediately reared its ugly head, and I had to order myself not to pretend it wasn’t there. “That makes two of us,” I said frankly. “But when you ask me when I’m coming back, I’m going to remind you why I left.”
“Well, you didn’t say you were staying away indefinitely.”
No, I hadn’t.
But truth be told, I wanted to.
“It’s not like you to stay angry,” she continued. “Really, to get angry. And I don’t like it. But I am sorry, you know.” I felt myself begin to soften when she added, “For whichever part you’re upset about.”
Whichever part? How about cheating on Dad? Directing me away from Ben? Always putting yourself first?
“I’m upset about all of it,” I said. “And I don’t know how long I’ll be away, but it looks like it’s going to be a while. I’m in the middle of an organizing job.” With the exception of the game room, I actually anticipated being finished with the job for the Mahadiks in the next week, but Melinda’s friend Charlotte had emailed me last night to see if I could swing by for a consultation. I hadn’t responded to her yet, but hearing my mother—cogent, capable, and yes, clinging to her belief that I had no right to be angry—made me think that I could at least delay my return to take on a new job.
But secretly it also made me wonder what would happen if we simply hired an aide and I stayed put. If I just . . . did what I wanted to. It was almost too radical to fully comprehend, and yet it was where my brain kept going.
My phone beeped. When I glanced at the screen, I saw that it was my ob-gyn’s office. I swear my heart skipped an actual beat—because there was only one reason they’d be calling me right now. “Mom, I need to take this. Hold on a second.” I switched calls before she could respond.
“Laine Francis?” said a woman.
“This is her.”
“This is Sophia from Dr. Kim’s office. I have you on our cancellation list for preconception appointments. Dr. Kim has an opening on Monday at eight thirty a.m.”
Dr. Kim was my ob-gyn—the one who’d been too booked to see me anytime soon. But now she had an opening; Monday was just a few days away. So now I wouldn’t have to wait any longer or talk to a stranger—even Hadley’s “fertility guy,” who was probably amazing, but still—about getting pregnant.
“Would you like to come in?” she said.
“Are pigs made of bacon?” I said.
“Pardon?”
It occurred to me to save that remark for someone who would understand it. By which I meant Ben. “Sorry—yes, I would love to take the appointment. Thank you so much.”
“Not a problem! I’ll email you a confirmation, and we’ll plan on seeing you Monday at eight thirty.”
“I’ll be there,” I said, smiling as I switched the call back to my mother. This. Was. Happening. “Mom?”
There was a fumbling sound. “I’m here,” she said breathlessly. “I set my phone down for a second, and the next thing I knew, I’d misplaced it. This place is already falling to pieces without you around.”
Normally I’d have taken this as a compliment. I’d always cleaned up for her, even when I was just in for Christmas; it made me feel useful. But now her comment seemed . . . manipulative, to be honest. Just like Ben had pointed out all those years ago.
“Are you having a hard time being on your own?” I said.
“I’m not on my own, Laine. Josh has been lovely company. Thank you for lending him to me.” There was an edge to her voice—one that brought out the sharpness in my own.
“He’s not a lawn mower, Mom. You’re not borrowing him.”
“I know that. All the same, you’d be a fool to leave him.”
She knew just the wrong thing to say sometimes. “Mom, while I’m glad you remembered that Josh and I have separated, I’d rather not get into it right now.” It would be too confusing to tell her that maybe, just maybe, we were going to get back together after all.
Because what if we didn’t?
“I’m just saying.”
“And I hear you,” I told her.
“Well, good,” she said. “So when are you coming home?”
“Do you need me to be there?”
“Not at all. As I’ve told you girls repeatedly, I’m a grown woman who’s been on her own for some time now. While I’d love to have your company, I don’t need you, Laine.”
This was exactly what I wanted to hear. So why did it make me feel sad?
“Good,” I said. “Because I’m really busy here and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to return to New York anytime soon.”
I was about to tell her that I needed to go when she said, “Well, then, Laine, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Mom,” I began, but she was already gone.