Page 8 of Child of Mine

“Both,” Jess says.

“Yep,” I agree with a groan.

“I’m more nervous performing in rep than doing our scene tonight,” Jess adds. “You’re lucky you’re only doing one show, Bella.”

When my mom talked me into auditioning for Shakespeare Boston last summer, I told them I could only do one play a season. Not only do I want to be around for Lilah, but I help out at my mom’s bookshop.

“I’ve never rotated between two shows like you do in repertory,” Jess continues. “I keep having nightmares that I go onstage inTheTempestwearing myComedy of Errorscostume.”

Even though they fight like cats and dogs most of the time, directors Nick and Mira managed to convince the company powers-that-be to try out a repertory schedule this summer, arguing that tourists will get a chance to see both shows if they’re playing every other night.

“At least you don’t have to worry about the lines,” I point out. Jess’s memory is like a steel trap. She only has to do a scene once and she’s got her lines down pat. “I swear, the older I get, the harder it is for me to hang onto my words. I don’t think my brain could handle learning two shows at once.”

“You might be relieved of your excuse sooner than you think.” Jess tips her head toward the slide. “My nieces look like they’re ready to adopt her.”

My gaze follows Jess’s pointed finger. The three girls pose for a photo, which has me instantly on alert. So far, I’ve managed to keep Lilah out of the public eye, but anybody can sell a photo to the tabloids. When I see that it’s Penny taking the picture, my heart slows.

It is a sweet shot. My little fair-skinned, blue-eyed girl is flanked by Abby and Tami, who, like their aunt, have golden-brown skin and jet-black hair. Tami’s face is rounder, framed by corkscrews as wild as Jesse’s. Abby’s hair is long and straight, and she’s tall enough that she has to bend down to get in the frame.

“My sister’s a pretty good photographer,” Cal says. “Since they always give you double prints these days, I’ll get you a copy.”

Moment captured, the girls are off again, this time to the food table. I do my best to convince myself that Lilah is safe at this party full of strangers, but the fear that my daughter will someday have to pay for the sins of her mother is a hard one to let go of.

So far, Lilah’s the one thing I haven’t screwed up.

* * *

Jess catchesa ride with me back to Boston and the gala since Cal is driving the girls back to Esther’s house. When I ask her how therapy is going, I’m awed by how brave she is. Not only is she facing her inner demons, but she freely shares her struggles with me. She’s talking a mile a minute while my own thoughts crowd her words, but one phrase snags my complete attention.

“Wait, what did you just say? About the voice in your head? Sorry, I think I was zoning out.”

She laughs. “I totally geek out when I talk about this stuff.”

“No judgement here. I’m just curious. Have you ever named the voices in your head?”

She tips her head to the side as she considers. “I don’t name them. But I do have a picture for the one I’m wrestling with now. She looks like this ballerina doll I had as a kid. Perfect body, perfect bun, always on point. She’s super mean. My therapist is helping me figure out how to listen to her without getting hurt or angry.”

“What does she say?”

“Mostly stuff about women’s bodies. Like I’ll be behind someone in the grocery checkout, and she’ll tick off everything wrong with the poor woman’s body—saggy butt, fat rolls around the bra straps—”

“Damn. Remind me never to stand in front of you in line.”

She sighs. “First of all, you have pretty much the ideal body in her book. Second of all, she’s harsher with me. I’m not sure if it’s worse if I see a woman she thinks is perfect or someone she thinks is a mess. For the one, she picks me apart and tells me how I’ll never be perfect. For the other, she tries to convince me that I’m headed in that direction.”

“Wow. I thought mine were bad.”

“What do yours say?”

Why did you bring this up?one of the voices in my head asks.

Who cares what she thinks?the other counters.

I glance over at my friend. I’ve never really had a girlfriend like Jess. The actresses I worked with in New York felt more like rivals. Later, after I had Lilah, my efforts to make mommy friends met with little success. I’d reach out to moms who came into our shop or who I saw at the park, but I always felt like I didn’t quite fit in, like the groups formed at some previous stage I missed. They were all married and knew each other from church or their other kids’ schools. They’d pepper me with questions about working on TV, which made me uncomfortable. Or they’d make backhanded comments about Lilah not having a dad.

So I gave up.

But Jess has found her way into my heart. She’s trusted me with her secrets. Maybe I can trust her with mine.

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