Page 90 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

When the hell had I become so wise? Or was it that I could clearly see solutions to other people’s problems, but not my own?

At that, she sniffed. ‘I threw away a child so I could have the love of my life. I know I was young, but it waswrong. I abandoned my baby.’

I understood now why she’d resented me all these years. In order to be with my dad, the love of her life, she’d abandoned her own flesh and blood to take me on as her daughter. And all those years I’d asked myself what poison was running through her veins, what deep, dark secret could be possibly afflicting her to the point that she couldn’t even take care of her family.

Now, it all made sense. All her years of deep depression that had permeated my childhood – days when she couldn’t face even getting out of bed, let alone going to work or walking us to school. It had simply been beyond her, the sheer pain of it sapping her very strength. Now, I was able to empathize and not judge.

Now, I knew what it felt like to love and lose love. To understand that all you’ve ever cherished could disappear from your life with one word of truth, one word said in the wrong moment.

And Marcy’s sense of guilt had been her punishment – a punishment for all these years. Too cruel a fate even for someone like her. She wasn’t evil, I finally understood, but simply unable to face life’s difficulties. And attacking, alternated with indifference, had been her only defense. My shrink in Boston would have been proud of my analysis, if not of my behavior.

But now, I considered, it was time to heal. It was time for her to stop drinking as an emotional crutch.

She was silent now, as if waiting for me to deliver a magic formula that would instantly wipe away her woes. I didn’t have one, of course. I only had a simple suggestion. But it could do us all a world of good if we listened to it.

‘We need to be more forgiving, Marcy,’ I whispered. ‘We’ve all made mistakes – big ones. Everyone has. So let’s all stop recriminating and pointing fingers and put the past in the past. Let’s all just…’ I swallowed as I pronounced my greatest wish. ‘Forgive one another. And ourselves. What else is important on this stupid planet besides love? Because if you don’t forgive yourself, no one ever will.’

‘You always were the wisest little girl, Erica,’ she whispered, and there was nothing more to be said between us.

Even if I was living proof of her sense of inferiority to her own twin, I somehow felt we’d be OK.

‘I’m going to get my man back, Erica. I’m going to get your father back. And hope he’ll forgive me.’

‘Of course he will. Dad loves you. Let me know how it goes,’ I said softly, and in my voice I heard a kindness and patience that was new to both of us. Because I had to do my part in atoning and being a better person as well as her.

New beginnings, for all of us. That was what we needed.

‘Thank you, Erica…’

‘What are daughters for?’

I wondered, if Marcy and I could atone, why couldn’t Julian, the man who loved me, understand me and believe me? Why couldn’t we atone?

*

A few days later, while trying like hell to keep up appearances with the kids and trying to figure out an excuse for Daddy’s leaving without saying goodbye to them – an alarming first in the Foxham family – I noticed Julian had left behind one of his notebooks in his nightstand.

Hmm. I nudged the corner until it was almost facing me and scanned the page.

I look at my wife-to-be as she bends over to hang the laundry. She’s done the whites and takes great pride in them. She should. Everything she does, the way she takes care of us, is full of love. She patiently matches the socks on the line, shakes out the creases in my old T-shirts even if she’s going to iron them. I always tell her not to – they’re only work clothes – but she says she can’t have her man looking like nobody loves him.

And I know she loves me. I can feel it in every gesture, see it in the crinkle of her eyes when she smiles, which has been more these past two years in Tuscany than when I first met her, bravely facing adversities of all kinds.

Sometimes I wonder how her first husband hadn’t seen how marvelous she is. He didn’t deserve her and sometimes I don’t think I deserve her, either. How many times have I disappointed her lately with my career choice? But she hangs in there, ever supportive, ever loving.

Now she’s stretching, and in the early morning sun I can see the shape of her body through her sundress. It’s a good, strong, healthy body, with all those enticing curves that I love so much. Erica is like her body – strong, feminine and sometimes a bit stubborn.

She turns and catches me staring at her, and she smiles. She’s loved, like no man could ever love a woman. I’d never felt anything like this before in my life for anyone else and every fiber of my body screams to me that I never will. Erica is and always will be my soulmate.

I sat back, aghast. Julian had written this about me? I wiped at a tear. Wow. I knew he’d loved me, but I didn’t know he’d felt like that. I didn’t know he had all those feelings inside him. It never occurred to me that as I was performing such mundane chores, he’d actually been thinking something so… profound. He really was a writer.

Men usually, in my meager experience, keep all their feelings bottled inside, leaving us to expose (and injure) our hearts. In my life, I’d always been the weaker one. The one who loved more. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

I’d found someone who loved me as much as I loved him. I couldn’t lose him now. The only man who I could ever sleep with, be with, love. Never in my mind could I ever replace him with any other man for a simple afternoon stroll down our country roads, or sit across from anyone else at alocanda(inn) for dinner, or look to for approval and feel flooded in warmth when that approval came. It had taken me three years to get to this level of intimacy, of knowing that there simply could be no one else for me. I couldn’t lose all that. I couldn’t lose him. Not without one last fight.

So I brainstormed a plan all by myself. A crazy one, to be honest, but insanity was all I had left. At that point, if I decided to proceed, there would be no turning back. The die would have been thrown. But I owed it to myself and my children to at least try.

Once my plan was in place, not without a few iffy bits, I called a family meeting with the kids for their input. For Maddy’s sake, we had a lengthy PG 10 talk about what was happening and why Julian had left without saying goodbye. Like in a board meeting, I itemized the risks of my plan and the possible benefits, and they listened carefully.

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