Page 87 of When Stars Collide
I stared at her, waiting for her to break out a retraction, to tell me that she was just fucking with me and, of course, Mom had sent her, but there was a sincerity in her eyes I’d never seen before, telling me there would be no retraction because there was nothing to retract.Curiosity piqued, I backed away from the doorway, holding the door open for her. She seemed surprised that I was doing so without putting up much of a fight. Not that she could go toe-to-toe with me if she tried, a fact I was certain she knew well.
“I’m going to head out for a bit,” Jo announced, throwing on her jacket.
“You sure? Jo, you don’t have to go anywhere. It’s your apartment, too.”
She waved off my concern. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I wasn’t planning on staying in all evening, anyway. One of us has to have an active social life.”
“Uh-huh. Does this have something to do with a certain woman whose name begins with an ‘M’ and ends with an ‘adison’?
“I surely do not know what you’re talking about.”
“And I surely think you’re a liar.”
Jo turned around in the doorway. “If you need anything, call or text,” she offered, waiting for me to nod before leaving.
“May I take a swig of that?” Melissa asked, nodding at the bottle of Merlot in my hand.
I handed the bottle to her. “Knock yourself out.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip, setting the bottle down on the counter next to where she was standing. “My stomach has been doing flip-flops.”
“And you think drinking wine is going to settle it?”
She shrugged. “It works for everything else.”
“I won’t argue with you there.” Chuckling to myself, I snatched the bottle from the counter and headed to the couch, motioning for Melissa to follow me. “Honestly, your upset stomach could be from the dinner you just ate at Los Dos Pollos. I caught a glimpse of the kitchen once in passing. It’s kind of sketchy back there.”
“It usually takes food poisoning a few hours to manifest.” She sat down on the couch, moving myLife’s A Bitchpillow aside, but not before studying it and shaking her head as she looked back up at me. “Don’t think Mom didn’t pick up on the Mexican restaurant slight.”
“Are you kidding me? I was counting on it. Marilyn may be a lot of things, but dense isn’t one of them.” I took another drink from the wine bottle, then handed it over to Melissa.
“Try living within driving distance of her.”
“I’d rather break that wine bottle against the counter and stab myself with one of the glass shards from the broken end.”
“At least you were able to get out and start a life in New York City.”
I cocked my head, holding out my hand for the wine bottle, which she relinquished reluctantly. “And you could have done the same thing.”
“No … I mean, yes. I guess I could have, but I was just so damn consumed with trying to constantly win Mom’s approval, I kind of lost myself along the way.”
“So, find yourself again. And for the love of God, Melissa, if you don’t want to give up music, don’t give it up just to appease our mother.”
She nodded. “It wasn’t only to appease our mother. Brett would prefer I not work and we start a family, instead. His mother was a stay-at-home mom, and he feels that’s the only way children ought to be brought up. No daycare, no babysitters—”
“No socialization. Is Brett a sixty-year-old man stuck in the body of a twenty-something-year-old? Because if so, he and Marilyn must get along famously.”
“Ugh, you have no idea.”
“What is it that you want?”
“You asked me that earlier, and I remember thinking to myself that no one has ever asked me that before. I was so stunned by the question that I had to sit and think about it for a moment, which is sad because I should know the answer. It should be obvious.”
I handed the bottle back to her. “But it’s not.”
“Not at first, but then it became clear.” She held the rim of the bottle to her lips. “I don’t want to give up music. At least, not forever. I want to be able to be there for our children, but I can’t be the June Cleaver both Mom and Brett want me to be. The strange thing is, I really didn’t think I had a choice until you said something. And then I remembered that I did—I do. You were always so strong. I admired the way you stood up to Mom when she flew off the handle about one thing or another.”
“Did you? Because I seem to remember you relishing every admonishment thrown in my direction whenever I tried to stand on my own two feet in front of her.” I remembered my pint of Ben & Jerry’s still sitting on the counter and leapt up to retrieve it, grabbing two spoons before returning to the couch.
