The working theory from my lawyers is that as she’s my mother, the doctor probably thought she was giving her pills to me, a not uncommon thing for celebrities to do in Hollywood.
In short,I’mthe reason my mother became additive to opioids.
Ignoring my own emotional turmoil, I add, ‘I even madebiscoitosthe other night.’
‘Bom.’ She sniffs, looking every bit the strong, proud Latina woman who raised me. ‘Maybe you’ll put on a few pounds and those silly women will stop asking you to take your clothes off.’
With the dinner I just made laying heavy in my stomach, her wish is more than likely to be granted. ‘Yes,Mãe.’
‘Deixa eu te falar, coração.’ She tsks, her lips pursing. ‘They don’t evenknowyou.’
‘I know,Mãe.’ My response is the same as it has been the several other times we’ve had this conversation.
While she’s never said a word against me being an actor, my mother has had more than a few things to say about the pretty overt come-ons she’s witnessed whenever I’ve taken her as my date to events. And then there’s the lustful fan comments she reads online and on my social media posts.
Which is probably why, with everything going on with Camilla, I’m glad for the social media ban the rehab facility has in place for those undergoing treatment.
Deciding to circle back to what I know will make her happy, I lift the phone up higher and lean back on the chair’s cushions. ‘I’m finally putting all your cooking lessons to use.’
‘Ah.’ Another smile. ‘What else have you been making?’
We chat happily for a while, the call feeling more natural since she’s finished the hardest part of her treatment – detox. We discuss recipes and reminisce over my early years in the kitchen when I was as bad at cooking as Anne is now.
Thinking of Anne…
‘You would love the grocery stores here.’ I chuckle, remembering Anne’s melons. ‘Texans don’t mess around when it comes to food.’
‘You went to a grocery store? Yourself?’ Her brows draw together. ‘I thought Jack said you didn’t have security with you?’
Damn it, Jack.
I wave away her concerns. ‘I wasn’t alone, so don’t worry.’ I keep talking before she can ask more questions. ‘It’s called H-E-B.’
‘Heb?’ She speaks the word.
‘No, I wasn’t spelling it. I mean, I was, but you actually say the le—’ Something warm and leathery brushes against my calf, causing me to jerk my leg, my shin whacking into the undersideof the coffee table with a loud crack. ‘Merda!’ The phone falls from my hands as I grab my leg, the pain making it nearly impossible to recognize that Mike, uncurled from his hump-doll, ventured over to my side of the room.
‘Coração.’ My mom’s voice from the phone now muted from its spot on the floor. ‘Are you okay? Should I—oh.’
Mike looms over my upturned phone on the floor, his wrinkled face taking up the entire screen.
‘Is that a movie prop?’ Her voice is slow, as if trying to process what she’s seeing. ‘I thought this space movie was contemporary, not sci-fi.’
Worried he’ll understand that my mother just mistook him for an alien puppet, I carefully reach beneath Mike’s head to slide my phone out from under it. ‘No,’ I say once I’m looking into the camera again. ‘That was a cat.’
My mother appears more shocked than when she first saw my underwear advertisement billboard. ‘Agato?’
Before I can explain, Anne, frazzled, wet and near naked, runs into the room. ‘What happened?’ Her right hand holding the ends of what I’m guessing is a bath towel, but which looks more like an oversized hand towel, together in a fist above her right breast.
My response to her question is swallowed as a drop of water slides off the end of her wet hair and down between the valley of her breasts.
‘Felix?’ Mistaking my speechlessness for fear, Anne comes over, using the hand not holding up her towel to grab my shoulder. ‘Are you okay?’
Another droplet follows the first, but I manage to nod in answer.
Someone clears their throat.
Anne’s hand tightens on my shoulder before slowly turning toward my phone.