Page 104 of The Husband Diet
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. ‘Where did you get that crazy idea from?’
‘From this,’ I managed, shoving the album in her face.
Marcy pushed the album away from her nose to focus and suddenly paled.
‘Well?’ I prompted.
‘I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We wanted to tell you, your dad and I, but no time ever seemed right.’
I rubbed my face in exhaustion. Why, oh why was everything always so difficult?
‘Sit down, sweetheart. It’s time you knew.’
Sweetheart?Nowshe called me sweetheart. ‘I already know. I want to know why you never told me. Why the big secret? Why have we never seen any pictures?’
To which Marcy sighed. ‘Your dad has tons of them, only he keeps them to himself. I don’t interfere with his lost dream.’
I was surprised Marcy could admit defeat so easily. ‘He loved her very much and I was nothing.’
‘I find that hard to believe. Dad treats you like a princess and he always has.’
She looked up at me. ‘Because I’m weak, Erica. I’m not like you. You’re like my mom’s side of the family. You’re all strong. Fighters.’
Marcy admitting her weaknesses? Had I somehow ended up onThe Twilight Zone? This was getting weirder and weirder.
She groaned softly, as if in pain, and I suddenly realized how painful it still was for her, too. Knowing you were never someone’s first choice hurt. I knew what that was like.
But on the other hand, the only feeling I could muster was relief. Relief that my mom didn’t love me like mothers love their children simply because shewasn’tmy mom and not because I was unlovable or that there was something very wrong with me, as I’d believed my whole life. All those years of begrudging me a single ounce of affection and now I finally knew why. I represented Marcy’s failures and weaknesses. Just like I represented Ira’s failures. A part of them both would always resent me for being stronger, more capable.
I tried to feel anger as was my second nature, but still relief flooded my heart, over and over, like a fresh spring rain washing over me, cleansing me inside and out. All the times when she didn’t praise me or encourage me or cheer me on – all those moments I couldn’t justify or explain – now made sense, in a Marcy-logic sort of way.
Any other woman would have been moved by her dead sister’s newborn, taken it in (especially after having married my dad) and loved it twice as much. But not Marcy. In Marcy’s heart there was no room for anything but her grief and herself. Because she was weak and had no choice but to cover herself with lies, which she also told others every day.
Like all those stories about him choosing her because she was the prettiest. Marcy had been heartbroken surely when Dad had chosen my real mother. But when all that ended, Marcy had foisted herself upon him and he’d agreed, with the proviso that everyone else would stick around to help take care of me. And now I was no longer trapped in a relationship with an unloving mother.
I thought of Emanuela – Manu. She’d have been exactly like Marcy on the outside, only loving. Undoubtedly, she’d be running Le Tre Donne with her sisters while Marcy skulked around at home in her shiny kimonos with her sleepy eyes.
‘All these years I’ve had to stay on my toes to keep up with Emanuela’s memory,’ Marcy whispered. ‘It was no contest from the start. There was no way I could ever be as important to your father as you were. So I simply gave up.’
I searched her face, understanding her for the first time.
‘I gave up because I knew whatever I did wouldn’t change the facts. But your father is a good man. He dedicated extra attention to me so I wouldn’t feel left out. But no matter how many flowers and gifts I got, we both knew it was to fill a great big gap that could never be filled.’
My eyes blurred. ‘It must have been difficult looking me in the face every day. I wondered why you didn’t love me…’
At that, Marcy sat up. ‘Oh no, Erica! Never think that I didn’tloveyou. I do. But you understand you represented for me the greatest hurdle for a woman’s pride.’
Boy, did I know a little something about hurdles. But I’d evolved, moved on, while Marcy would be forever stuck in this rut if she didn’t get over it once and for all.
And to think many times during my childhood I’d found my mother standing, or rather slumped, her red eyes lost on the expanse of the back lawn. And for many years I couldn’t figure out why she was so afflicted and what dark acid was consuming her. While growing up, I always thought that if I had Marcy’s looks, her clothes, her husband and her home, I would have been happy and managed to love myself.
And now I knew. I didn’t need anything but my loved ones and my own inner strength. And that would always be my starting point in life, no matter what happened to me.
‘Can you forgive me?’ Marcy whispered, big tears plopping down onto her purple-and-black kimono.
I looked into her face, slowly riddling with wrinkles. I saw the vacuity of her eyes, the decent person she was trying to be despite her fragility. She’d never be my mother. But maybe we could bury the hatchet now that I knew I was the stronger one. Now, it was my turn to act the grown-up.
‘Silly Marcy,’ I said, and she smiled up at me. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. Now get up, have a shower and let’s go out to lunch. My treat, OK?’
