An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) (8 page)

“I can see that you can’t be reasonable about this when you’re in that house,” she said, her voice nearly as icy as my own now. “Why don’t you call me tomorrow? We can get lunch.”

“I will not call you tomorrow! You own me an explanation.”

“I don’t, actually. I’m your mother, Ashley, regardless of what is happening in my personal life. I won’t listen to my daughter talk to me like that.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my voice. “I just want to know what’s going on,” I finally said, squeezing my eyes shut. “Chris and I showed up here for dinner tonight and Daddy was a mess. I had no idea anything was even wrong.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding more relaxed now, though not quite apologetic. “I completely forgot you were coming for dinner. How rude of me. Will you apologize to Chris for us?”

I stared at the wall across from me, incredulous, as if I could find answers within the pale yellow paint. She had just left my father without a second thought, but now she was worried about being rude to me?

“Mom, what happened?” I repeated.

“Sweetheart, your father’s and my marriage may not have been quite what you always assumed,” she said gently, her use of the past tense sending a rush of fear through me. “It’s very complicated, and very personal. I would rather speak to you about it in person, after I’ve had time to think. And I don’t think it’s right for us to be talking while you’re still there with Daddy.”

“He’s very worried about you,” I said, wanting to make her feel guilty, wanting her to understand how awful it was, what she had done. “He said you wouldn’t answer his calls, that he doesn’t even know where you are.”

She sighed. “I’m staying in a very nice hotel. I’m very safe and taking care of myself. I haven’t answered his calls because I don’t have anything new to tell him. I need some time.”

“Fine.” I felt weary, too tired to be angry anymore. “I’ll tell him you’re okay.”

“Sweetheart, try not to worry. Your father will be fine. He’s perfectly capable of feeding himself and getting himself to work every day. I’ll call you in a few days and we can talk, all right?”

“My concern isn’t really with him getting to work, Mom,” I said. “He’s a mess, okay?”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” Her voice was brisk; she didn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “But that’s really not your problem.”

“Of course it is! He’s my father!”

“I’m finished with this discussion, Ashley. We’ll talk later in the week. Goodbye.”

“Mom—”

But she was gone. I stared at the phone. My mother had never hung up on me before, or, to my knowledge, anyone else. She put civility and politeness before all else. What on earth had gotten into her?

I turned to go back to the living room, but froze at the sight of our family portrait hanging there in the hall. We’d had it taken three years ago, right before Amy went away to school. The three of us girls sat in a row, smiling, our parents standing lovingly behind us. My sisters, Amy and Allison, looked so much alike with their blonde hair and green eyes. I was the only odd girl out, having gotten my brown hair from my father; my mother could have passed for one of the sisters, with her slender figure and blonde hair. She was so young looking, so pretty. I squinted at her in the photo, trying to imagine the beautiful, happy woman smiling back at me leaving her husband.

I walked back to the living room, my heart twisting at the hopeful look on my dad’s face. “She said she’s fine.” I tried to make my voice bright. “She’s safe at a hotel. I think she just needs to think about things, Daddy. She said she’d call me later in the week.”

“What could she need to think about?” he asked, throwing up his arms. “And why can’t she do it here in her own house?”

I felt helpless. “I don’t know, Dad. I’m sure she just needs space. Everyone gets cooped up sometimes, you know? You feel like you just have to get away. I’m sure that’s all this is.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure, not at all. “I bet she’ll be back in no time.”

His face brightened a bit, and I felt a stab of guilt for lying to him. But what else could I do? I had to believe that she’d come to her senses and come back. What was she going to do, live in a hotel forever? For starters, there was no way she could afford that; my mother had never worked for a paycheck for a day in her life. She’d been taking care of my father, her children, and this house since the day they were married.

“Daddy, you need to eat,” I said finally, needing to distract myself. Thinking about practical things was a start. “Have you been eating at all?” Most of the dishes in the sink had been glasses.

“A little,” he said. “Microwave stuff, mostly.”

“Let me make you some food,” I said, standing. “What do you feel like?”

“Let’s just get pizza,” he said. “You don’t need to go to all that trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” I assured him. The truth was, I had no idea when he’d have a home-cooked meal again. My dad probably hadn’t had microwaved food more than half a dozen times in all the years he’d been married.

Chris was waiting for me in the kitchen. I had a feeling he had been listening to my exchange with my father from there, probably not wanting to intrude. “How’re you doing?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Numb, I think.”

“What’d she say?”

“She sounded so unconcerned.” I shivered a little. “Like she didn’t even care that he was hurting.”

Chris reached for me, but I stepped away from his arms. “I should get some food going,” I said. “Will you go sit with him?”

“Sure,” he said, looking at me with something close to pity in his eyes before he turned to head back to the living room.

It wasn’t until I started pulling dishes from the cupboard that I remembered the purpose of our visit. As I reached up to grab plates from a high shelf, the overhead light caught my ring, making the diamonds wink at me. I released the plates, bringing my hand up before my eyes to stare at the ring. Its beauty had not been diminished in the slightest by the revelations of the evening.

It was hard to believe it had only been an hour ago that Chris and I had joked and laughed about sharing our news, that it had only been a few days ago that we had gotten engaged, and that I had woken up that morning feeling so completely overwhelmed with joy and excitement at the prospect of telling my parents.

How had everything changed so quickly?

Chapter Eight

Chris and I didn’t talk much the entire way home. I hadn’t wanted to leave my father; I’d been tempted, in fact, to stay over and call into work the next day. But my dad had insisted that what he needed above all else was to get back into a routine. “It will probably help to take care of my own cooking and cleaning,” he had assured me. “It will distract me, you know? If you’re here doting on me I’ll have nothing better to do than feel sorry for myself.” He had smiled when he said it, and tweaked my cheek the way he had when I was little, but I still felt terrible about leaving him alone. The thought of him there, in their big old house, all alone, was heartbreaking.

I was relieved to find that Emily was not home when we got back to my apartment. I didn’t think I could bear to tell her what had happened. Like all of my other friends, Emily had always seemed to look up to my mom. It was hard not to; she was so pretty, so stylish and together. Yet she still had that cozy mom air down pat, feeding everyone who came into her house, and doting on my friends like they were her own kids, particularly Emily, whose own mom had died when she was a teenager. What would Emily think of her now?

“Are you staying?” I asked Chris wearily as I took off my beautiful new white coat.

“I’d like to, but only if you want me to.”

I sighed. “It’s up to you.”

He was across the room and pulling me into my arms before I had a chance to finish taking off my coat. “I’m sorry, Ashley,” he said. “I’m so sorry. It’s going to be oaky, you know?”

I clutched him back, feeling scared and confused. And, more than anything else, betrayed. I had thought my mom and I were so close. “How could she do this to him?” I whispered. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

“I know,” Chris said, running his hands up and down my back. He pulled away slightly so he could look down at me. “I want to stay with you tonight, Ash. I don’t want you to be alone. Let me help you, okay?”

I nodded, and Chris smiled before leaning down to kiss me. “You want wine or something?” he asked, still holding my arms. “Or are you tired?”

“I just want to go to bed,” I said, my voice dull.

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

We got ready for bed, neither of us talking much. Once we were under the covers, Chris wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. I stared over his shoulder in the darkness, an empty feeling threatening to overwhelm me.

I knew people’s parents split up all the time. I knew it was more common than not these days. Ryan’s parents had divorced shortly after we’d started college. But I had never once believed it could happen to my parents. In my wildest dreams, I wouldn’t have predicted that this could happen. I had thought they were the definition of a couple in love.

A new thought crept in, scaring me worse than anything else had that night. If I could be so clueless about my own parents, what else was I wrong about?

* * *

I talked to my dad several times a day over the next week, calling him before work, on my lunch break, and at least once in the evening, when I knew he’s be alone in that big old house. Every time we talked, he assured me that he was fine, that he was hanging in there and I shouldn’t worry. On the third day, I asked him if I should call the other girls.

He sighed into the phone. “Maybe I should do it,” he said, sounding sad. “I was hoping she’d be home by now and we’d never have to worry them, but now…”

He trailed off and I felt sick for him. It was Friday, an entire week since he’d come home to find Mom’s suitcase in the hall. He still hadn’t heard from her.

“I’ll call them, Daddy,” I said firmly. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

I did not tell him that I had plans to meet with my mother the next afternoon for lunch. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. God only knew what kind of explanation she’d be able to offer. Instead I told him, for the hundredth time, that he should call me if he needed anything else.

“Chris and I are going to come down on Sunday,” I reminded him. “But you can call anytime before that.”

“I’m fine, Ash, just fine,” he assured me. But I was pretty sure I heard his voice crack. I hung up the phone feeling something close to rage for my mother.

The next day was Saturday, which usually meant sleeping in. But I was up at sunrise, my stomach churning as I thought about seeing my mom. I moped around all morning, the worried feeling not abating, until it was time to get dressed. I took my time getting ready, choosing my clothes carefully as I usually did when I knew I’d be seeing her. The habit of always wanting to impress my mother apparently hadn’t diminished with the events of the past week.

“Are you going to tell her about the engagement?” Emily asked when I joined her in the kitchen for coffee. I had told Emily about my parents on Wednesday. Predictably, she’d been awesome about it, seeming to understand how little I wished to discuss it but asking after my dad each day, knowing I was worried about him.

“I guess so,” I said, stirring my coffee and feeling sick. “I kind of don’t want to, but I guess that’s just spite.”

“I don’t blame you,” she said, shaking her head.

I looked up at the clock and sighed. “I guess I should go.” I stood up and straightened my dress, which was pale purple with a gathered waist and full A-line skirt. “How do I look?”

“Ridiculously pretty,” she said, smiling at me.

I managed to smile back before heading out to the living room to find my coat.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of the restaurant. My mother’s silver Lexus was already there, and I straightened my shoulders, readying myself to see her.

When I found her sitting at a table inside, she looked the same. I wasn’t sure why I thought she’d be different. Her blonde hair was in its usual perfect bob, not a hair out of place, her face perfectly made up. She was wearing an emerald cardigan that set off her eyes. And I knew she would smell like Chanel No 5, her signature scent.

“Ashley.” My mother smiled when she saw me, and stood. I allowed her to wrap me up in a hug, though I didn’t return it. “It’s good to see you, darling,” she said, releasing me as her eyes did their familiar quick assessment of my clothes. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” I said, stiffly. I noticed that she didn’t meet my eyes. She seemed happy enough, and I felt a little stab of anger.

“So, how have you been?” she asked, settling herself back in her chair. “Is work going well?”

“Work is fine,” I answered taking my seat.

“I see your hair is starting to grow out. It looks much more flattering now.” I felt a familiar flash of resentment at her passive-aggressive insult, but kept my mouth shut.

“How’s Chris?” she continued. “And Emily and Ryan?”

“Everyone is fine, Mom.” When I didn’t elaborate, she sighed.

“I can see that you’re preoccupied with your father and me. Fine, let’s order lunch, and then we can talk.”

We both ordered salads and lemonade, my mother smiling at the waiter as if he was her best friend. Ryan always said that when she talked to you, no matter what it was about, she made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“What happened, Mom?” I finally asked once the waiter had left, unable to keep it in any longer.

“Ashley, you’re a big girl now, so I’m going to be honest with you.” She fingered her string of pearls, looking slightly vulnerable for a moment, but then it was gone, and she was her old perfectly together self once more. “Your father and I got married when we were very young. Neither of us took the time to see what else was out there. My entire life has been that house and that man.”

“That man?” I spluttered. “You mean my father? You mean your
husband
?”