by Maria Geraci
“So was it everything you dreamed it would be?”
“It was actually pretty disappointing.”
Richard tries to hide his smile but fails.
“Where’s Becky? I thought you’d bring a date tonight.”
“Becky’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh?”
“She’s just the kid sister of a friend, Emma.”
“Oh.”
I catch a whiff of Richard’s cologne. It’s the same one he wore that day he leaned into my cubicle to ask me about the Trip Monroe interview. Was that really only a couple of weeks ago? I start to feel a little dizzy.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do about Ben’s job?” he asks me.
“Not yet. I’ve been so busy trying to edit down my article on Trip that I haven’t had time to think.”
“You haven’t turned the article in yet?”
“Nope.”
“Then you’re not going to,” he says flatly.
“How do you know that?”
Richard sighs heavily. “You’re a bleeding-heart, environmental, sensitive soul. You write about beach erosion and manatees falling in love with each other. You don’t write about guys who get so drunk they can’t remember how many girls they’ve done in one night. Not guys you like, anyway. And you like this guy. It shows in the article, which is the only weak spot because it shows your bias. On the other hand, it’s also brilliant because your obvious like of the guy also shows how conflicted you are and gives the article a nice balance.”
“Wow. Is that a compliment?”
“What do you think? Take Ben’s job. You’ll be great editing the magazine. Hell, I might even start reading it.”
There is something in the way he says this that makes my breath catch. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Jackie and Lisa are right and that Richard is interested in me. I thought Richard was jealous of my professional relationship with Ben. Which of course, was all wrong. Richard was never interested in furthering himself at the magazine. Which can only mean that Richard was jealous of Ben because—
“Richard, that day of the Facebook fiasco…you said you did it to teach Ben a lesson.” I shake my head. Maybe I’ve had too many beers tonight or maybe I’m still reeling from the scene with Torie. “I’m confused. Tell me why you did it again?”
At first Richard doesn’t say anything. Then he leans in close and I find myself trying to back away from him, only my back is already up against the wall, so there is nowhere for me to go.
“I’ve always liked you, Emma.”
My heart starts to thump wildly. As crazy as it sounds, I’m pretty sure Richard is going to kiss me. Do I want him to kiss me?
The answer is—
“There you are!” At the sound of Lisa’s voice Richard and I jump away from each other like guilty teenagers. “Everyone’s starting to leave.”
We go back to the table and it takes another hour for everyone to say their good-byes. Since I drove with Jackie, she and Chris offer to take me home. Chris was on call tonight, so he hasn’t been drinking. Ben says that he’s already called a cab for everyone else and we all agree this is a good idea. I hug Richard and wish him well. His hug is quick and efficient and I’m left disappointed, because somewhere in the past hour I’ve come to the conclusion that, yes, I wanted Richard to kiss me.
chapter thirty-two
I’m too wound up to sleep. Tomorrow I’m driving to Catfish Cove to confront Mom and that’s a scene I’d love to put off even longer than I already have, but I can’t. I’ve been checking my cell phone every few minutes to see if Kimberly has an update on Torie, but my phone is frustratingly silent. So I decide to read. I know I should read Richard’s manuscript, but I just can’t do the werewolf-vampire thing right now, so I turn on my e-reader and start my first Steve Danger novel. By five a.m. I’m finished and begin to read book number two.
The novels are campy (cheesy really) but they are also humorous, well paced, full of intrigue, and sexy. I am totally hooked on Steve Danger and his cast of misfit rogue spies who end up saving the world from the evil Dr. Hatchett (no joke). There is even a romantic subplot involving Steve’s long-suffering techno-geek assistant, Bridget. Despite the fact that every other woman in these novels practically falls into Steve Danger’s arms (and his bed), Bridget is stubbornly immune to his chiseled good looks and James Bond–ish charm. Bridget also wears glasses and has an hourglass figure that Steve secretly lusts after. Humph.
I finish novel number two, and as much as I’d like to go on to the next one, I have to get some rest. I sleep till three p.m. and wake up with the horrible worm sensation again. Although my instincts tell me not to reach out to Torie until she’s had a chance to cool down, I give in and text her anyway. She doesn’t text back. I have a feeling this Jason-Torie thing is going to be an even bigger mess than the Great Tuna Fish Incident. But surely, we are more mature now than we were eight years ago and in a short time she will see how pointless it is to stay angry at me for something beyond my control.
At least I hope so.
I call on my way up to Catfish Cove and tell my moms I have something important to talk to them about. Mom tries to wheedle it out of me on the phone but I stick to my guns and tell her she’s going to have to wait to hear it in person. I pull into the driveway at eight. My moms are watching a show on the Discovery Channel about how the world is supposed to end in the next three days. Which, if true, means I won’t have to worry about turning the Trip Monroe article in on Monday. Still, I’d kind of like the world to keep going as is. I’m a half-full-glass sort of person, and even with all our global problems, I hold out hope for mankind.
My moms envelop me with their hugs.
“What kind of sandwich are you today?” Mama J asks.
“Fried liver and onions.”
When I was a kid, Mom made me eat fried liver and onions one night for supper. I made such a fuss about not liking it that she never made it again. Ever since then, the fried-liver-and-onion sandwich is code for “something is wrong in Whoville.”
Mama J steps back. “Oh no. Did you and Nick break up?”
“Actually, yes, we did.”
Mom throws her arms up in the air. “I knew it was too good to be true. Guess this means we won’t be getting the family discount at Louie’s.”
“Nope,” I say, “you are most definitely not getting the family discount.”
“So this is what you wanted to talk to us about? To tell us you and Nick broke up?” Mama J asks.
“I think we should all sit down first,” I say.
“Uh-oh,” Mom mutters, “here it comes.”
She and Mama J sit back down on the couch. I sit on the edge of the coffee table to face them directly. “I want to talk about Mom’s marriage to Frank Monroe.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “How—”
“Frank Monroe told me.”
Mama J uses the remote to turn off the television. She slips an arm around Mom’s shoulder. I tell them about coming up to see Frank Monroe to ask for help with Trip and how he told me about his marriage to Mom.
“When was this?” Mom asks.
“Last weekend.”
“And you’ve kept this secret for a whole week?”
“One week of secrecy seems pretty tame compared to thirty-two years.”
Mom purses her lips.
Mama J sighs. “I wanted to tell you that day at the store, when you told me about trying to contact Frank, but it’s not my story to tell.” She gives Mom a stern look. “So tell her now, Sheila.”
Mom squirms around on the sofa. “Frank Monroe was my high school sweetheart and we dated off and on through college. Then I went to med school and he came back here to Catfish Cove and opened his auto shop, and later, when I came back to work with Daddy, Frank and I got married.”
“I already know all that.” Pause. “But why?”
“The usual reasons. I loved him and he loved me.”
“Oh…” I glance between
their faces and wait for more. But I might have to wait a long time, because getting Mom to open up is like twisting the top off one of those childproof medicine bottles. “And?” I prompt.
“And I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to be confused,” says Mom. “Plus, you know, there’s the whole drama thing.”
“Well, I’m confused now.”
“In case that expression is what I think it is, let me put your overactive brain to rest. Frank Monroe is not your daddy. I would never keep something like that from you.”
“I already know that too.”
“So what’s the problem?” Mom asks.
“What’s the problem? What’s the problem? You don’t think keeping a little secret like the fact that you were once married from your own flesh and blood is a problem?”
“Don’t raise your voice to me, missy. I don’t care how old you are, I’m still your mother.”
I count to five and say in a sweetly false voice, “Let me get this straight. You didn’t tell me about your secret marriage because you didn’t want to confuse me?”
“The marriage only lasted a few days. And no one except our families ever knew about it.”
I give Mom my best glare.
She sighs. “Life isn’t always black and white, Emma. You of all people should know that.”
“Well, of course I know that.”
“I wanted to tell you. A couple of different times, but…when you were younger, I truly was afraid I’d confuse you. And then you got older and high school was so hard for you. I didn’t want to add anything more on your plate. Then later, well, it was all so long ago it just seemed silly to bring it up after all this time. But you’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
I don’t think in all my thirty-two years I’ve heard Mom admit she was wrong about anything or even admit that things weren’t always easy for me. Sometimes a girl needs a little sympathy instead of Mom’s standard “Buck up, little cowgirl!”
“I knew the whole thing was a mistake a couple of days in, but I didn’t have the courage to be honest with Frank, so I told him I didn’t love him anymore and I wanted a divorce.” Mom starts wringing her hands the same way I do when I get nervous. I’ve never seen her do this before and it fascinates me. “He fought it at first, but he agreed to a trial separation. Then I got pregnant with you.”
“Let me get this straight. You were married to Frank Monroe, you got a separation, and then while you were separated you went out and found a sperm donor and got pregnant?” This is essentially what Frank said to me, but I guess I had to hear it from Mom’s lips before it truly sank in.
Mom nods.
“He must have been—”
“Mighty pissed off,” Mom supplies. “If we were still married when I had the baby, Frank would be listed as the daddy on the birth certificate and he knew darn well that wasn’t the case. The situation forced his hand.”
I’m not sure what to say to all this. Mom notices my silence and continues.
“I might not have wanted to be married to Frank, but I always knew I wanted a baby. Emma, you were my…my one anchor during that time.” Mom’s eyes turn misty. “I’ve never been good at expressing myself and I didn’t know how to tell my family the things I was feeling. I was worried—no, more like petrified about how they would react when they did find out. After I announced my pregnancy, of course, everyone thought the baby was Frank’s. It gave me the opening to tell Daddy the truth about everything. Susie had already guessed, but Mama, well, she cried for two days straight. Eventually, though, the world tilted back on axis and everything went back to sort of normal.”
“Did you and Frank ever make up?”
“He didn’t talk to me for five years. Then I met Jenny and I had to see him. To tell him how Jenny was going to move in with me and how everyone in town would know then, but I wanted him to be the first. I owed him that much, and more,” Mom admitted.
“What did he say?”
“He’d had five years to cool off, so he was pretty good about it. We talked some and he wished me luck. We’re never going to be great friends, he and I, which is a shame, because he’s a real decent man, but a part of him probably won’t ever forgive me.”
I remember what Mama J said to me that day in the park. That sometimes we hold on to the people we love even when we think they’ve betrayed us. I recall that unfriendly phone message Frank left me back in June and have to wonder if a part of him is still holding on to Mom. I’d like to think that maybe meeting me has now given him some kind of release. It’s obvious he and Julie have something going. I’d really like to see them together in a permanent way.
I think what had me so upset about this whole thing was the fact that no matter what was going on in my life, the one constant has always been the love of my two mothers. To find out they have purposely kept something from me all these years made me feel like an outsider. But after listening to Mom’s story, I can’t be upset with her. I’ll be honest, I don’t know how I would have reacted to the news of her marriage at seventeen. Mom can joke all she wants, but the truth is, I was like most teenage girls, full of drama and angst, trying to figure out where I fit inside this great big world. One more piece of baggage might have set me over the edge. Mom made the best decision she could under the circumstances.
It’s easy to start to believe as you get older that your mom is your friend and that you are equals. But that is all an illusion, because the fact is, I realize now that no matter how old I am, my moms are not my equals. To them I will always be their little girl. They will always want to protect me, always champion me, and thank God, always forgive me. Maybe being the parent of a teenager is just as hard as being a teenager yourself. I can only hope that I’m lucky enough to find out one day.
“I loved Frank and a part of me still loves him,” says Mom. “But he wasn’t my dream. I always knew there was someone out there, someone just for me. Someone I could love with all my heart and soul and feel completely myself with. And I found her.” Mom looks at Mama J with wet eyes. “Jenny was my dream. And I’m hers.”
I’ve never heard Mom speak so freely about her emotions. How strange is it that she has just used almost the same exact words I used when I broke up with Nick? I can’t help myself, I start to cry. And then something truly unexpected happens. Mom starts to cry as well.
Mama J just shakes her head and wipes away her own tears. “Here comes the drama,” she says with a laugh.
I take my yearbook to bed with me and begin flipping through the pages.
In the days that followed the Dixie Deb Ball, I was probably the most miserable teenager in existence. Although my moms forgave me for being a shit, I couldn’t forgive myself. Around this same time I was also waiting to hear back from colleges. I’d applied to the two big state colleges in Florida, as well as a couple out of state. I got accepted everywhere, which should have thrilled me, but I was still too miserable to be happy. In the end I chose the University of Florida, because that’s where Mom and Grandpa George went to school, and being a Gator was just about the most important thing in his life. I figured it was a tradition I shouldn’t mess with.
I remember the day our English teacher gave us the poem assignment. Trip and I had already done the Emily Dickinson project, so my senior portfolio consisted of the project and two original short stories I’d written. The poem was the only task left. As seniors, we were exempted from finals if we completed all our assignments with a passing grade, so I wasn’t about to not do the poem.
Although I’ve always loved poetry, I’d never written any myself. I sat at my desk for hours, crumbling paper after paper of fumbled attempts. In the end the poem was ridiculously simple and kind of bad. But it was written with all the emotion (as Mom would put it) of an overly dramatic seventeen-year-old girl and that was good enough to win the contest.
Arms that surround me, soft and white,
Keeping me safe throughout the night.
There’s n
o daddy in this mommy sandwich…
I could read on, but you get the point. I’m no Dr. Seuss, that’s for sure.
I already told you that I never meant to win the poetry contest, because honestly, I never thought I had a chance. But my English teacher submitted it and then, miracle of miracles, it got top three. She called me to her classroom and told me the news. The next day at the senior awards program, it was announced that my poem had won. As I walked to the podium my knees shook so bad I was convinced everyone could hear them knocking. I reached the mike, and looked down to see my poem neatly typed out with a blue ribbon tacked on top of the paper. My gaze darted around the stuffy gymnasium until it settled on my moms. I cleared my throat and began reading.
If you haven’t figured out by now, Mom has always been the kind of person who shuns the limelight. She hates being the center of attention and I know that once I began reading, people were probably turning to look at her and Mama J. It isn’t that everyone didn’t already know they were a couple, but no one talked about it openly. As I read, I kept my gaze on them. I think a part of me was afraid to look away because I’ve never been particularly good in the spotlight either. I just know that as I kept reading, my voice grew louder until it almost seemed like I was shouting. When I looked back later at a tape of the ceremony, my voice sounded surprisingly normal. Weird, huh? How you remember something different from the way it really was.
I just know that the smiles on my moms’ faces that day made up for the look I saw on their faces the day of the Dixie Deb Ball. After the awards presentation, people kept coming up to me and congratulating me and my moms. A few people went out of their way to avoid me, but overall it was the best day of my teenage life.
I turn the page in my yearbook and run across an unposed picture of Shannon and Nick taken at a pep rally. They are both smiling and look incredibly young and happy. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that Nick deliberately kept that box from Shannon. I like to think that maybe my relationship with Nick will be a step toward his healing. Even though we were together for all the wrong reasons, I hope he’ll eventually see that I was right and he was wrong. I wish I could make Nick see that he deserves the fireworks and the trust and respect. We all do. He just doesn’t think it’s possible, and maybe it’s not possible for everyone, but I think I’d rather be alone than not have it.