by Anna del Mar
Note to Clara: you won’t give up.
I shocked Lori when I called and said I was taking off Monday, for the second time in two weeks, and three days before the gala. She asked if I was feeling okay. I told her the truth. I felt lousy. What she didn’t know was that my face looked like a purple balloon from all that crying. My heart felt as if had been skinned, boiled and shredded. I kept to my bed, but I ordered Chinese takeout for breakfast. All that sodium packed a punch and must have helped balance my electrolytes, because I started feeling a little stronger after that.
A memory of Noah’s furious face got the house special in my stomach tossing. We’d pushed each other’s buttons like pros. The nightmare had driven me to the edge of my fears and, after that, I’d stopped thinking straight. I felt guilty about some of the things I’d said. I felt especially wretched about the way I’d shoved Noah’s disorder in his face without even thinking. Totally unfair and low handed on my part. But maybe some of the other things I’d said had to be acknowledged. Perhaps I’d suppressed my emotions for too long and I’d paid the price.
I fought an urge to call Dr. Dodd. Talking about my problems wasn’t going to help anymore. The time for paying lip service to my woes was over. The truth was that I had to fix the things that were wrong with me, with my life, before I could look myself in the mirror and face Noah again.
Sometime late that afternoon, the control freak in me kicked in. I organized my fears into four basic piles: Fear of abandonment, fear of failure, fear of self-loathing and fear of change. Even though I understood that all my fears worked together and were interrelated, I decided to associate each pile with a name in my life, Noah, Mother, Durant and Annette.
I tackled Annette first. I dialed her number and conjured a mental picture of her wearing a jacket and pearls. No latex. She picked up at the first ring.
“Clara, how good to hear from you.” Her voice held a note of triumph. “Do you have the article ready?”
“Annette.” I cleared the cobwebs from my throat. “I’m afraid there’s been a change. I’m not interested in merging the blog anymore. And I won’t be writing that article either.”
An awkward silence ensued. “But...” she said, after a few long, agonizing seconds, “why not?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Is this why you didn’t sign the letter of intent?” she asked.
“What letter of intent?”
“Clara, don’t try to play games with me.” Her voice was stern and cold, like a hammer to my senses. “You made a commitment to me. I’ve got the merger all mapped out and the board is expecting your submission. You can’t fail me now.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I don’t like disappointing you, or anybody else for that matter. But in this case, I’m keeping the blog. I have to do what’s right for me.”
She tried to argue with me. Then she tried to guilt me into going through with our deal. “Clara, dear,” she said, her tone now almost sweet. “I’m your mentor and your friend. I can’t let you waste this opportunity. Don’t you think I know what’s best for your future?”
How come everybody seemed to know what was good for me, except me?
When persuasion didn’t work, Annette ratcheted up the pressure. “You’re being stubborn,” she said. “You’re being irresponsible and immature.”
Sure, no problem. She could add to my long list of shortcomings. I felt like a regular piece of crap anyway.
“People don’t fail me and then stick around this business to tell the tale,” she cautioned, voice crackling with anger. “It’s not wise to double-cross me and believe that you still have a viable professional future.”
I read her warning loud and clear, but my mind was made up. I was not going to write for RelevantSex.com or merge my blog. I expected there’d be some fallout, but I stood my ground, told Annette that I was being true to myself and hung up, because there was nothing constructive left to be said. I hoped that, in time, she’d understand my need to do my own thing.
By the time I ended my conversation with Annette it was late, but I’d gained some confidence from my suffering and I felt at peace with my decision. My cell beeped with a text. My heart tripped. It was from Noah.
Need to know you’re okay.
My eyes went liquid. It was pure Noah, succinct, to the point and conscientious, even though I knew he couldn’t possibly like me much at the moment.
Coping. I texted back. You?
Coping, he answered and then silence.
My heart ached. No additional questions. No apologies given or requested. No suggestions for the future.
I took a deep breath. The old Clara would’ve tried to apologize or engage him in some way, to fill the hole inside with whatever she could get in lieu of his affection. But somewhere between the time I reconnected with Noah and now, the old Clara had died. The new Clara refused to tackle the future without resolving the past.
I had to acknowledge my feelings for Noah. I loved him. I had no doubt about that, but deep inside, that old sense of betrayal lingered, corroding my heart like rust on metal. The first step toward having a future was to deal with the past. I got up from the bed and threw on some yoga pants and a hoodie, before I marched to my car, jammed the key in the ignition and revved up my engine. I knew exactly where I was going next.
I drove straight to my mother’s sprawling Georgetown house, an exquisitely preserved brick mansion, updated to the latest modern standards. The security agent on duty tried to stall me at the front door, but I’d have none of that. It had taken me a lifetime to get to this point. I wasn’t going to be dissuaded or delayed.
I put on my best haughty Luz face, brushed past the agent and marched into the marble-floor foyer and up the regal staircase. I burst into the paneled library that served as my mother’s den and found her enveloped in a Chinese silk robe, lounging barefoot on the couch. The enormous flat-screen TV over the fireplace displayed a paused movie. A couple of wineglasses and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn stood between the piles of reports crowding the coffee table.
Popcorn?
I’d never known my mother to watch anything other than the news channels. I’d never seen her at leisure either. Perhaps that’s why her rumpled appearance shocked me. Her tousled hair fell in wild curls over her shoulders. Her glasses sat crookedly on her nose. I didn’t even know she wore glasses.
“What are you doing here this late on a Sunday night?” she demanded, clutching the top of her robe. “Why didn’t you call before you came?”
“Really?” I scoffed. “Can’t a daughter pay a visit to her mother without need for an appointment?”
Diana chose that moment to barge into the room even as she finished buttoning her regulation suit jacket. She assessed me with a hard stare and, keeping her eyes on me, addressed my mother.
“Senator?” she said. “What’s the situation?”
I met Diana’s stare. “The situation is that I’m here and I’d like to speak to my mother...privately.”
“Diana, stay.” My mother took off her glasses and set them aside. Her chest rose as she took in a deep breath and, clasping her hands on her lap, transformed into the steely senator who presided over the Intelligence Committee. “You look like crap.” Her glare swept over my face and tripped over my attire. “I’d be embarrassed to go out on the streets looking like that.”
I decided to ignore the distraction and go straight to the point. “I know what you did fifteen years ago. I was never supposed to know. You made sure of it. But I know you had Noah ‘escorted,’ and not kindly,off Avalon Island.”
Both Mother and Diana flinched as if I’d punched them in the gut.
Mother recovered first. “Noah Blake?” Her gaze shifted to Diana. “Why don’t I know anything about this?”
Diana’s jaw could’ve been chiseled out of
granite. “After your mother-daughter conversation last month, you gave us instructions to back off from Clara’s surveillance. You may remember I recommended against it, but you insisted that she should have more privacy.”
The straight set of Mother’s lips indicated she regretted her decision.
“Well?” I said. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
I watched Mother’s shrewd eyes process my words with blood-chilling calculation. I could almost hear her brain considering the range of options that fit comfortably into her politician’s mind, entertaining the alternatives to the truth—denial, lying or manufacturing a different story. In the end, she surprised me.
“I made the right choice,” she said. “For you.”
After all these years, she still thought she had the right to control my life and make decisions for me. Bitterness and disappointment aggravated my emotional wounds. Mother’s self-righteousness was like acid poured on raw skin. I seethed with the pain.
“So you and Noah are seeing each other again?” Mother asked pleasantly, as if she was asking about the weather forecast.
I aimed a blistering stare in her direction. “None of your business.”
“You’re my daughter,” she said. “It’s very much my business.”
I fisted my hands. “I’m not having this discussion with you.”
“Clara,” she said evenly. “Do you know why I kept that letter from you?”
I snapped. “Because you’re a conniving, manipulating witch?”
The ice queen kept her composure. “No, because Noah wasn’t good enough for you.”
“Noah wasn’t good enough for you.” I dug my nails into my palms. “He didn’t have money, a famous last name or connections, and that meant that he was of no use to you.”
“True,” she admitted with a faint nod. “The Luz family has always been pragmatic.”
“Your ‘pragmatism’ cost me the love of my life.”
“Apparently not.” She flashed an infuriating smile. “Or am I wrong and you aren’t seeing the boy?”
“The boy is not a boy anymore,” I bit out. “He’s a highly decorated ex-Navy SEAL, a high-level intelligence analyst who’s done quite well for himself.”
“I always thought he had drive.” Mother had the gall to smirk again. “He had aspirations too, audacity. It takes steel cojones to tamper with a Luz...or two.”
I growled like a rabid wolf. “So you saw the good in him, and yet you never gave us a chance?”
“You were so young,” she said in the condescending tone that drove me insane. “Naive too, and head over heels over a no-name storm destined to blow off quickly. It was going to take Noah a long time to crawl out of the hole.”
I struggled to keep my temper in check. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Reality,” Mother said. “It’s unfortunate that some of us begin the race way behind the starting line, but it’s the truth.”
I made a supreme effort not to strangle her on the spot. “Sometimes, when I hear you talk like that, I think you’re just another brainless snob.”
“I might be a snob, but I’m not brainless,” she said. “I’m also your mother. I saw pain in your future, a life of strife. I wanted to spare you from that.”
“You had no right.” Fury pounded in my ears. “You may have paid big bucks to create a designer baby, but you don’t own me, or my life.”
She actually grimaced, a gesture that betrayed the wrinkles under her eyes. “Clara, dear, I do hate it when your temper gets the best of you. A good argument has never been made by a barking dog.”
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.
“Think.” She tapped her temple with her long, red-polished nail. “Why do you think I chose to have a baby on my own?”
“Easy,” I said. “Because you didn’t think that any guy out there was good enough to be your husband.”
“Wrong,” she said. “I chose this route because I wanted to give you the best advantages possible from the very beginning. I wanted to give you a starting gate ahead of everyone else.”
“I’m sorry that it didn’t work out the way you expected.”
Her forehead actually wrinkled. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Sorry to disappoint, Mother. If I could get you a refund, I would.”
“Don’t disrespect your mother,” Diana put in.
Mother lifted a finger in the air. “Diana, please. I can handle this. Clara, I’m not disappointed in you. On the contrary. I’m very proud of you.”
“That’s funny.” I scoffed. “Because you’re always telling me everything that’s wrong with me. Clara, go to the gym. Clara, you look like shit. You never like anything I do.”
“That’s not true.” Mother dismissed my claims with a delicate wave of her hand. “I tell you those things so that you can better yourself. It’s a harsh world out there and it’s my responsibility to point out your weaknesses so that nobody can tear you down.”
“Are you for real?” I groaned. “You’re the one tearing me down! You make the harshest day out in the world feel like a walk in the park.”
“Oh, please.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “I don’t have time for this. I did my best. I did what I could considering...”
“Considering what?”
“Considering my position,” Mother snapped.
The way she reacted gave me pause to think. I’d never seen her so angry. What was this about?
She took in a calming breath before her gaze fell on me again. “Do you think it was easy to weather public opinion when I decided to have you?”
“I’ve read the press at the time,” I said. “It was all good. Modern woman, cutting-edge visionary, the future of modern families everywhere, blah, blah, blah.”
“Bought and paid for,” Mother said. “Father spent a pretty penny on us. The only thing that kept me from being labeled as an irresponsible out-of-wedlock single mother was an all-out marketing and public relations campaign. But it was touch and go there for a while. Your grandfather wasn’t exactly on board.”
“Then how did you convince him to go along with your decision?” I asked, remembering that Grandfather had been as staunch, intransigent and unmovable as Mother was.
“That’s not important.”
I stood my ground. “I’d like to know.”
“It’s neither here nor there.”
“Tell her.” Diana broke her silence. “She’s come here for the truth. The whole truth. Tell her now or lose her for good.”
If looks could kill, my mother’s stare would’ve incinerated Diana. My gaze shifted from Mother to Diana and back. I took in the coffee table. Movie. Popcorn. Two glasses of wine...
Oh my freaking God. I considered the two women before me, both powerful in their own right, both at the top of their respective games. The fair ivy-league-schooled senator with the family name and wealth. The dark, sleek bodyguard who’d saved her life. Always together. Inseparable.
It all clicked.
In my grandfather’s time, being a fashionable biotechnology-forward modern woman was a reach, but it must have seemed more acceptable to him than the alternative. He must have wagered that, back in the dark ages, the dynasty couldn’t survive the bombshell revelation that his trophy daughter was a lesbian in a committed interracial relationship.
My knees gave way. I plopped down on the ottoman and cupped my face in my hands. So many things began to make sense, like why my mother’s bedroom door was always locked to me; why she was so guarded, emotionally distant and physically absent; and why she was so hard on me and my choices.
I also realized why she’d taken it upon herself to end my relationship with Noah. She’d sacrificed her private life for the dynasty. Why shouldn’t I? To this d
ay, she saw no reason why I should choose differently.
I looked up to meet the eyes of the woman who’d given me life. What I saw shocked me. Grief. Despair. Regret that aged the soul, embittered the heart and harshened the world. The secrets. They must have been so hard to keep, from me, from the world.
Diana crossed the room and sat down next to my mother. Her brown eyes were lightless. Her chiseled features sagged. I now understood why Diana had felt the right to insert herself in the relationship between my mother and me. She’d been a party to my creation. All along, she’d seen herself as my family too, while I, ignorant and oblivious, had resented her intrusion and considered her as little more than the help.
I twined my fingers through my hair and pulled on it. “I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I see it before now?”
“You are not stupid,” Diana said. “We went to great lengths to keep our relationship from everybody, including you, especially you. When you were little, you used to ask me all the time why I was always around. You see, Clara. I’ve always been with my family.”
Tentatively, she reached out for my mother’s hand. Mother tensed. She looked at me. I saw the pain all over again, the fear, the expectations of an antiquated time when people weren’t free to be themselves. That’s when I felt the rage releasing the knot at the top of my stomach and transforming into an inkling of compassion for the two women who’d raised me in the midst of their secret passion for each other.
“Jesus, Mother.” I braced my elbows on my knees and massaged my temples where all of that jaw clenching was blooming into a dull ache. “It’s the twenty-first century, you know.”
Mother’s long porcelain throat convulsed. She clutched Diana’s hand. A single tear escaped her eye. Never in my thirty-two years of life had I seen my mother cry.
“We wanted to tell you,” Diana said, offering Mother a tissue.
“Why didn’t you?”
“We were afraid of the consequences.” Mother took the tissue and dabbed the tears from the corners of her eyes. “Your grandfather...it would’ve killed him if the knowledge became public. We decided to wait until he passed.”