Well, she hadn’t exactly forgotten so much as she’d procrastinated for too long. Now she was in for the mother of all guilt trips, pun intended.
She hated being one of those women who had a dysfunctional relationship with her parents, but there it was. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted to have one of those mothers she could confide in over coffee, one of those fathers she could have heartfelt conversations with after friendly tennis matches. Instead, she had the modern-day version of Fred and Wilma Flintstone for parents.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Griffin asked, glancing up from the newspaper he’d retrieved from her front door earlier.
“No, I don’t think so.” She watched the phone as it rang.
After five rings, the answering machine picked up, and Macy’s canned recording blared through a speaker instructing the caller to leave a message.
“Macy, it’s your mother, Joy Thomaston. I guess you’re too busy to call me back, so I’ll stop calling. You call if you ever have time for your own mother.” Then she hung up.
Eek.
“She has to tell you her full name?” Griffin asked.
“That’s her version of sarcasm. My mom’s not quite right in the head. Actually both my parents are kind of whacked.”
“Oh come on, they can’t be that bad.”
Macy looked out her bedroom window. The sky was a shocking, crisp blue, something that always gave her a surge of energy and a renewed sense of purpose. But at the moment, with Fred and Wilma on her mind, it just made her want to bury her head under the pillow and wait for nighttime, when it would be too late to call her parents.
“Yes, they can. They mean well, but they’re just not… I don’t know. They’re clueless.”
“You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t hate your parents.”
“That’s not true. I have friends with wonderful parents, parents they can’t wait to spend time with.”
“Then your friends are the ones who’re screwed up.”
“So what’s so bad about your parents?”
Griffin stretched his arms over his head, and Macy couldn’t help but admire his perfectly sculpted chest and biceps.
“They’re just a little uptight. We get along fine, so long as I’m successful by their standards, which are pretty damn high.”
“Then they’ll be thrilled to hear you got the promotion.”
“They’ll want to know why I’m not a partner at the firm yet.”
“So they pushed you a lot?”
“Oh, yeah. I had to be the best at every sport, have the highest grade-point average, get scholarships to the best schools….”
“Sounds like loads of fun. You should have lived at my house. My mom would have just fed you a brownie and told you to go take a nap instead of worrying about your homework.”
He laughed. “At my house, there were no brownies. Only high-fiber bran muffins.”
“Yum.”
“Don’t you think you ought to just call your mom and get it over with? If you don’t, you’ll stress about it all day.”
“Will not.”
“You will. I can tell by the way you’ve been acting ever since the phone rang.”
Macy sighed and admitted defeat. He was right, of course. Best to get the dreaded task out of the way.
She grabbed the phone, dialed the number she knew by heart, and waited. A few hundred miles away in Fresno, her mother picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”
“Hi, Mom. You called a little while ago?”
“Are you screening calls again, Macy?”
“I was in the shower,” she lied.
“Where were you last weekend? I left six messages, I tried your cell phone and you never called back.”
“Sorry, Mom. I had a business trip, and I was just so busy, I didn’t think to check my messages.”
“You must have checked them when you got home.” Her mother’s voice had taken on the dreaded accusatory tone, the one that had succeeded in inducing major guilt for as long as Macy could remember.
“I did, but you didn’t sound like you were calling about anything urgent, and it’s been a crazy-busy week. I’d planned on calling you today.”
Silence. Her mother was a master at employing the silent treatment, especially over phone lines.
Luckily, Griffin was there to provide her entertainment during the intermission. He draped his leg over hers and traced his fingers along her hipbone, then across her belly, and up. When he reached the underside of her breast, she smiled and covered his hand with hers to stop any more dangerous exploration.
“Mom? Did you want to talk about something, because if not—”
Her mother heaved a noisy sigh, wrought with emotion. “I didn’t want to have to break the news to you this way, dear, but—”
“What news? Is there something wrong? Is Dad okay?”
“Dad’s fine. He’s out shopping for a new riding mower today. The problem is, I had a doctor visit, and they found some lumps in my breast.”
Her voice was quivery, on the verge of cracking, and Macy’s heart lurched.
“Mom!” She sat up, tugging the sheet over her chest.
“Now don’t get too upset. They did a biopsy, and they’re not cancerous. They’re just some kind of lumps. The doctor said I drink too much caffeine is all.”
“But it’s nothing to worry about, right? You’re going to be okay?”
“I imagine so, but that’s not the point. The point is, I had to have a biopsy and worry about having breast cancer all by myself, because you couldn’t be bothered to check your messages.”
“Mom, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“And you know how your father is about health issues. He wouldn’t talk about it at all. I had to suffer in silence all that time.”
Macy leaned against a pillow and tried not to sound annoyed. “I’m really sorry.”
This was such a typical episode of Thomaston family drama, Macy could have scripted it herself. If their life had been a commercial, this is where the product pitch would come in—the Thomaston Family, we’re neurotic so you can feel better about your own life.
On the other end of the line, her mother was making sniffling sounds, which was a total buzz kill. Not even the sight of Griffin beside her could cheer Macy up now. She was suddenly seven years old again, miserably fat, eating Ho Hos and watching Scooby Doo while her mother sat on the couch in her green terry-cloth housecoat pouting about one thing or another.
“I joined a breast cancer support group,” her mother said. “Those ladies have really helped me cope with my family’s emotional distance during this ordeal.”
“You joined a breast cancer support group? But I thought your lumps were benign.”
“Does it really matter? What matters is that I thought I had breast cancer, and there was no one to support me through that horrible process.”
Macy couldn’t think of any sensible response. Maybe a support group was exactly what her mother needed. That is, until they found out she was a fraud and just using them to get sympathy. Or something. She wasn’t quite sure what her mother needed, except perhaps some kind of mood-enhancing medication.
“Have you talked to the doctor about maybe getting a prescription for an antidepressant? Maybe that would help you feel better.”
Her mother sobbed loudly into the phone, and Macy winced. Not the intended consequence, but then, she’d once witnessed her mom sobbing loudly over a rotten head of lettuce, so this should not have come as a surprise.
“You think I’m crazy now? Because I have a medical condition and sought out a support network to help me through it?”
“No, I don’t think you’re crazy.” She cast a weary glance at Griffin, who offered a sympathetic wince in return. “I just think you might be feeling kind of down, and maybe some medication would help. That’s all. It has nothing to do with your mental health.”
“Don’t you condescend to me!” her mother said, then hung up
the phone.
Macy turned the phone off, then stared dumbly at it. Would it do any good to call back? Had she just been the catalyst that would send her mother into a deep depression? Was there any point in worrying?
“What was that all about? Is your mom okay?”
She slid down in bed and covered her face with the pillow, just as she’d thought about doing before the phone call. It had been a much more sensible plan than actually dialing her parents’ phone number.
“She’s fine,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, which was cool and soft and smelled like dryer sheets.
“She’s having some kind of health issue.”
“More like some kind of craziness issue. She doesn’t have breast cancer, but she’s joined a breast cancer support group so she can be whiny and get lots of attention from people who actually need sympathy and attention.”
“Wow.”
“I’m pretty sure this is somehow my fault. Because I didn’t answer my phone or check my messages, and because I’m basically an evil and selfish daughter.”
“Doesn’t she have friends or family close by who could be there for her in her, um…time of need?”
“She has five goldfish, no friends and her sisters all live far, far away from her where they won’t have to listen to her whining. I think they didn’t even give her their phone numbers. Smart women.”
“I guess you get the crazy parent award,” he said, lifting the pillow from her face and pulling her against him.
“Am I a tribute to the endurance of the human spirit or what?”
“Absolutely.”
“I feel like I need to do something. If I don’t make amends, she won’t call me for six months, and then she’ll spend another six months making me feel guilty for not getting in touch with her for six months. It’s a no-win situation.”
“Maybe you could go visit her.”
“Oh, God. Shut your mouth.”
“They’re in Fresno, right? That’s only a few hours’ drive.”
“Three hours. I thought we were going to spend this weekend in bed celebrating your promotion.”
“You’re not looking like you’ll be much fun, anyway.”
“Sure I will. Just give me some hard liquor, and I’ll be a barrel of fun in fifteen minutes.”
“I’ve got a better idea. We’ll drive out to see your parents, and I can meet them.”
Macy’s heart lurched in her chest, and her stomach twisted into one of those complicated sailing knots.
“Um,” she said, desperately trying to think of a way out of this mess.
But part of her loved that Griffin wanted to meet her parents. And another part of her had the common sense to remember that she’d entered into this relationship with him under a really crappy, dishonest pretense, and any sort of emotional bonding that took place now was only going to end in misery.
“You don’t want me to meet your parents?”
“I’m a little surprised you’d want to meet them after what I’ve told you thus far.”
Propped up on one elbow, he smiled at her. She couldn’t get over how much she loved this side of him that wasn’t competitive or cutthroat or even remotely obnoxious. He was a dream guy outside the office.
Which, in a way, totally and completely sucked.
She was anything but a dream girl, considering.
“I want to know everything about you. And your parents are part of who you are, so I want to know them, too.”
“Please don’t say things like that,” she said, smiling. “If my parents are part of who I am, I’m in big trouble.”
“Sometimes our parents shape us by being the thing we bounce off. They’re like the mold we have to break out of, making us define ourselves by how we’re different from them.”
“Wow, that’s pretty profound. I think I like your theory.”
“So let’s go. It’ll make your mother happy.”
“Or she may just get really pissed off that I dropped in unannounced with a visitor, therefore not giving her a chance to clean the house or prepare a meal or make herself look suitably miserable for the meeting.”
“We’ll call when we’re twenty minutes out. How about that?”
Macy wanted to produce some logical reason not to do this, but then again, she didn’t have the heart to tell Griffin no, not when he was being so sweet and when the trip really would likely placate her mother.
“Have I ever told you that you’re a really cool guy?”
He smiled. “No, but this would be a good time to point it out.”
“You, Griffin Reed, are a really cool guy, and I’m not just saying that because we’re in bed together or because you’re my soon-to-be boss.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“How about this—we’ll go, but we won’t stay long, okay? We get in and out, quick and relatively painless.”
He leaned down and kissed her. It was a long, sweet kiss that felt more intimate than any other thing they’d done together. Intimate in a good way, and in a bad way. The kind of intimate that came with taking their relationship to the next level, even as Macy was dragging her feet and trying to keep them from going there.
14
GRIFFIN HADN’T DRIVEN on Highway 99 in years, and he’d forgotten how incredibly flat and vast the great central valley of California was. So different from San Francisco with its jammed-together buildings bursting at the seams with people and hills and cars and noise.
Beside him, Macy rode quietly in the passenger seat. She’d sunken into what he could only guess was a state of dread over the visit with her parents. His first instinct was to ask, hey, how bad could they really be, when they’d produced a woman like Macy? But then he remembered the whole feigned breast-cancer thing and realized maybe her sense of dread wasn’t exactly misplaced.
Really, he was the one who should have been freaking out. And he was, sort of. He’d just volunteered to meet the parents.
And the more he thought about it, the more he felt as if he was flying a small aircraft while both enjoying the incredible freedom of soaring in the sky and seized by the terror that at any moment he could crash into the ground. He couldn’t exactly sustain each of these emotions within himself at the same time, but rather he waffled between the two—one minute elated and the next terrified.
Why he wanted to meet Macy’s parents all of a sudden, he couldn’t say. He just knew it was time. He knew he was falling hard for Macy, and that he wanted to take their relationship to the next level.
Gone was his desire to have her just because she was beautiful, or just because she was a challenge. In the place of that desire were real, undeniable feelings for her. He couldn’t help wonder now if he’d known subconsciously all along how right she could be for him, and that’s what had led him to want her in the first place.
And yet, what if he was wrong? What if this was all a huge mistake? As of Monday, he’d be her boss, their work relationship would be seriously strained if their personal relationship didn’t work out. And even if it did work out, would his girlfriend really want to have him as her superior?
Doubtful.
But they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. Knowing Macy’s sense of ambition, which was equal to his, it was quite possible she’d want to move to a new ad agency soon enough, anyway.
All he knew was, he couldn’t give up this thing with Macy now. It felt too good, too right—so much better than any other relationship he’d had. So much more full of potential.
“We’re about twenty minutes out. Guess I should call my mom now,” Macy said, sounding none too thrilled about the prospect.
“I could make the call if you want.”
“No, you’ll get to meet them soon enough. Last thing I need right now is my mother grilling you over the phone about whether we’re practicing safe sex.”
“Yikes. You really think she’d do that?”
“She gave my first boyfriend a box of condoms for Christmas.”
&nbs
p; “Wow.”
“Yeah. She was a public health nurse before she retired to drive me insane.”
“So is it too late for me to back out of this visit?”
She cast him the look of death.
“Joking!”
Macy dug her cell phone out of her purse and dialed.
“Hi, Mom,” she said a moment later. “I’ve got a little surprise for you.”
A pause.
“No, I’m not sending you and Dad on a cruise. I’m twenty minutes outside of Fresno with a friend, and we thought we’d stop in for a visit.”
Another pause. Griffin could hear a high-pitched voice coming from the phone, like a tiny mouse talking.
“Yes, I realize that. That’s why I’m calling ahead, so we’re not just dropping in completely unexpectedly.”
More mouse-talking.
“I just want to visit—that’s all!” A pause. “Okay, bye.”
She hung up the phone and tossed it back in her bag. Griffin glanced over and caught her looking utterly disgusted.
“We’ll take the next exit,” Macy said, and he merged into the right lane.
“So that didn’t go so well?” he dared to ask.
“As well as expected. She’s pissed that we’re dropping in unannounced, and she wants us to know that she won’t be making a fancy dinner—no meat loaf and pineapple upside-down cake on such short notice.”
“Damn. No meat loaf.”
Macy finally laughed.
Two miles later, they exited, and he followed Macy’s directions through side roads and neighborhoods until they reached her parents’ driveway. The house was a typical fifties ranch house, short on architectural detail and big on shrubbery.
Macy heaved a nervous sigh. Griffin reached over and placed his hand on top of hers.
“We’ll get through this,” he said, trying to look serious.
She laughed. “And if not, we can at least say we had Las Vegas.”
They got out of the car, walked up a cracking sidewalk, and Griffin wondered one more time what the hell he was doing. But he also was incredibly curious to meet Macy’s parents, to see her childhood home, to get to know the life that had shaped her into the woman he was falling in love with.
Sex, Lies and Dirty Secrets Page 15