Page 2 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“You are, but don’t ignore my advice. South Bay is full of rich, young…ishbachelors. This is an incredible opportunity to make connections that could map the course of your entire life.”
“No pressure, though,” I mutter.
“Don’t be so cynical. If you want me to say I did this for me, too…fine. That’s true,” Mom continues. “I’m tired of fighting and even more tired of being tied to Malcolm’s purse strings.”
I’m touched that I even factored into her decision, but I can also see that she’s tying up loose ends, making sure I’m taken care of so she can sail off into the sunset without any guilt.Literally.She’s leaving on a three-month cruise with Joe in a couple of days.
Of course.
But…I’m grateful for what Mom’s done. She wanted to punish Malcolm for cheating on her, and she knew going after his money would be the thing that hurt him the most. Losing the beach house is a slap on the wrist for him, but Mom’s shown huge growth walking away from this fight.
“Okay, Mom, I’ll move into the beach house. Thank you.” This doesn’t make me dependent on her, I reassure myself. She’ll be able to leave on her trip feeling like a good mom, and I’ll have a place to stay.
“Sweetheart! I’m so glad.” Mom’s tone softens to the voice she uses when she’s her truest self. “Malcolm hurt you as much as he hurt me. We both get to move forward now.”
I sink onto the blow-up mattress I’ve called my bed for the past couple of years in this tiny Greenwich Village apartment. A toilet flushes upstairs. The outer walls of this brownstone are brick, but every wall and ceiling is paper thin. I won’t miss hearing everything that happens upstairs, downstairs, and everywhere in between.
And I’m not sad that I don’t have to figure out how to sell my broken-down furniture—or deal with my nightmare roommate anymore. I’ve loved my time in New York, but everything besides my sewing machine and suitcases, I’ll leave here. I’ll start fresh in a place that’s clean, furnished, and, most importantly, roommate-less. I’ll be there blissfullyalone.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say again, softer now.
“You’re welcome…and if I’m wrong about Joe, then I’ll join you in South Bay, and we’ll figure out the next step together. How about that?” Mom laughs.
I smile. “It’s a plan. I do hope things work out for you, you know?” I stop short of mentioning her relationship with Joe specifically.
“Hope is a survival skill, and we are survivors,” Mom says. “But money sure makes surviving easier.”
I laugh. She’s not wrong.
“Sybil emailed me the information about the security system and the codes to get in. I’ll forward it to you,” Mom says.
“That’s a name I haven’t heard for a while. I can’t believe she still works for Malcolm.”
Mom huffs. “That old bat is the only woman Malcolm hasn’t slept with and the only one he’s been loyal to.”
“Now who’s being cynical?” I tease. Mom has always been jealous of Malcolm’s personal assistant, even though on thespectrum of sexy secretaries Sybil is much moreMonster’s IncRoz thanMad MenJoan.
“Hush. I’ve earned it after she helped Malcolm try to hide assets,” she teases back before continuing. “He’s paid for a year’s worth of home insurance, taxes, and maintenance upfront as part of the settlement. Oh! And Sybil promised Archie and his friends will be moved out by the time you get there.”
I freeze.Archie lives there?
I haven’t seen Malcolm’s son in years, and that’s been intentional. Archie made it clear I didn’t belong in his world from the minute Mom and Malcolm married.
Archie was sixteen. I was nine, insecure and desperate to fit into Mom’s new life. And Archie? He made sure I knew I was just the annoying tagalong—his exasperated sighs and eye rolls said it all. Things never got better between us.
Malcolm gave the beach house to Archie to hide it from Mom, so it makes sense that he’s living there.
“Am I dry? Are you sure?” Mom’s not talking to me anymore, and if she’s not trapped in a massage chair, we’re close to the end of our conversation.
“You’re sure Archie will be moved out when I get there?” I ask.
“Absolutely certain. He’s signing over the deed today and Sybil promised he’ll be back in Australia by Sunday. He’s going to work for Malcolm—poor kid.” Mom’s breezy assurance is less comforting than the fact Sybil was involved with the details. Nothing happens without Sybil. If she says it’s taken care of, it’s taken care of.
“Does Archie know I’ll be the one living there, not you?” I’m not sure how I feel about his knowing.
On the one hand, I’ve spent years not caring about what Archie thinks. On the other hand, I sort of like the idea of him moving out, so I can move in.
Actually, there’s nosort ofabout it.
