Sharing Space (The Complete Series) (39 page)

“Exactly.” Myra raised her glass for a toast. My arms were too tingly to lift them and Crystal narrowed her eyes at Myra and said, “You’re not helping.”

“What?” Myra sighed and turned to face me directly. “You want to know what I think?” She continued before I could respond. “You’re in the dumb shit phase.”

“The what?” I asked.

“Dumb. Shit. Phase. He said some dumb shit. You did some dumb shit. And now you’re both so covered in dumb shit no one knows what the next move should be or who should make it. You have two choices: either call that man and work it out or move on and keep it moving. You know what they say. The best way to get over someone is by getting under someone new.”

“Okay. Now you’re really not helping,” Crystal said and slid my glass away from me.

“What about that Michael guy?” Myra asked, ignoring Crystal completely.

***

“Shit, shit, shit.”

I was jolted back to the present. I had agreed to meet Michael and check out a musician he was hoping to book for the restaurant. Somehow I’d lost track of time with my trip down memory lane. I’d also killed almost the entire bottle of wine. I reached for my phone and called Michael’s cell.

“Hey, I’m going to be a little late. Sorry. Got caught up at the office.”

“No worries. I’ll see you soon.”

Michael was kind and dependable, but I reminded myself that it was
not
a date. We sometimes met to scout talent for
Home Sweet Home
or sample the menu of a new restaurant. I always paid my own way and we hadn’t kissed. Hell, we hadn’t even held hands. No. These were not dates. I was just trying to take Myra’s advice. Too much time had passed for me to do anything but move on. A decision would be made about the apartment one way or another,  and perhaps then we’d have a civil goodbye. But for now I needed to live with my decision.

I changed into a sheath dress and sandals, applied fresh lip gloss, and ran a brush through my hair.
Definitely not a date.

By the time I reached the venue Michael had found us the perfect table with a clear view of the stage. I smiled as I approached the table and he stood to kiss my cheek. He smelled of a musky soap and wore a black button down shirt and khaki pants. He’d also already ordered drinks for the both of us.

“I hope you don’t mind. It’s what you ordered last time.” He smiled warmly. From some guys the gesture might be seen as controlling or presumptuous, but Michael was always so considerate. It really couldn’t be taken any other way.

Though I was still feeling the effects of an entire bottle of wine, I took an appreciative sip from the glass. The mojito was cold and refreshing, and I needed it after riding over in a taxi with no air conditioning. “Thank you,” I said and gave his hand a friendly squeeze.

The musician was a young man with a guitar and soulful voice. After listening to him cover Prince, Sting, and Adele, I knew Crystal would love to have him play at the restaurant.

“What do you think?” Michael asked.

“I think he’d do very well with the crowd the restaurant typically gets on a Friday or Saturday night.”

He smiled and nodded. “Agreed. It’s great that Crystal trusts your opinion. She’s always busy working at the restaurant. I appreciate you taking the time to do this.”

“It’s been fun,” I said, and I meant it. Michael may not have always been an effective distraction, but he was a nice one. I picked up a napkin from the table and fanned myself with it. It had grown extremely warm and the room felt like it was vibrating.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked, a concerned frown on his face.

“I think that mojito was stronger than it looked.” I wasn’t going to tell him about downing an entire bottle of wine on an empty stomach because, well, loser.

“Let me take you home.”

I did not argue and was grateful when Michael hailed a cab almost immediately after we left the bar. I gave the driver my address and then rested my head on the back of the seat. Thankfully this cab’s air conditioning was working just fine, and I let the cool air wafting through the partition wash over me.

When the car stopped Michael paid the fare before I had a chance to protest. He gently took my arm and led me into the building. When we entered the apartment, the first thing I noticed was that the windows were closed and I was sure I’d left them open.

The second thing I noticed was Patrick.

“
Are they feeding you in California?”

“Yes, Ma. They fed me.”

I’d been home for a few days and would be flying back to Los Angeles the next morning to begin the final weeks of shooting. That was the fifth reference my mother had made to weight. In truth, I was in the best shape of my life. Working on the mini-series proved professionally rewarding, but also physically demanding. Pretending to be a rock musician was hard work.

“Hmm.” My mother eyed me skeptically. “Well, eat this anyway.” She placed a roast beef sandwich in front of me at the kitchen table.

If I looked thinner, my mother looked healthier than she had when I left four months ago. The dark circles under her eyes were gone, which told me she was sleeping again. Dad said she’d been leaving the house more often, usually to go to church or visit the grandkids. She looked good.

I took a bite into the sandwich. “Mmm. Is this bread from Wilson’s?”

“Fresh-baked this morning. I told Chuck Wilson you were home and he threw in a free loaf for the big movie star.”

“Did you tell him it’s a TV movie?” I wiped my mouth with a piece of paper towel and rose to go to the fridge.

“Sit down.” My mother placed a hand on my arm and headed for the fridge herself. “What does it matter if it’s a TV movie? It’s an HBO mini-series and we’re all proud of you.” She managed to give me three annoyed looks while she poured a glass of iced tea and set it next to the sandwich plate.

“Thanks. I just don’t want people making such a huge deal and then being let down. I mean, does Mr. Wilson even get HBO?”

“Don’t be a wise guy.” She clucked her tongue and snatched a pickle off of my plate.

It felt like having the mother I’d always known back.

“So, what’s this going on with you and Kelly?” She raised an eyebrow and took a bite of the pickle.

Yup
. She was definitely back to her old self.
“There’s nothing going on with me and Kelly. That was a stupid magazine rumor.”

“Would it be so bad if it weren’t?”

I sighed and pushed the plate away. I’d told the family of the breakup, but I’d been light on the details. I was embarrassed and Paul had already weighed in that he thought I’d made a mistake in agreeing to lie about my relationship.

Take it from me. Nothing good comes from lying about who you love.

Unfortunately, his sage advice had come too late.

“I’m not interested in Kelly like that. I still—”

“She broke up with you, Patrick.”

“I am well aware of that. I was there when it happened.”

“Your mouth, mister. All I meant is that it’s been months. You’ll have to move on some time.”

My father entered the kitchen from the side door. “Theresa, the man will move on when he’s ready.”

I gave him a grateful smile. It was nice to see that their relationship had also returned to normal. Since I’d been home, I noticed he was no longer handling her with kid gloves. He’d told me over the phone that she was able to talk about Charlotte without crying. Not all the time, but it was progress.

My mother continued as if my father hadn’t entered the kitchen at all. “I think you should look at Chloe’s decision as an opportunity. She seems like a very smart girl. She knows better than us how prejudiced the world can be. You both have a chance to find love that’s less… complicated.”

My father was pouring himself a cup of coffee and started to say something, but I held up my hand. “What are you talking about, Ma?”

“She understood what I’d been trying to say. An interracial relationship will bring you both more hardship than it’s probably worth. I—”

“When did you talk to Chloe?”

She snapped her mouth shut and pinched her lips together. It was a mannerism Charlotte picked up when she was a kid and didn’t want to have a conversation. “Ma, when did you talk to Chloe?” This conversation was happening whether she wanted it to or not.

“I went to see her.” She brushed imaginary crumbs from the table before placing her hands in her lap. My father sighed and took a seat at the table.

“When? While I was in L.A.?”

She shifted in her chair. “Months ago. Before you left.”

“Oh, Theresa.” My father put his head into his hands and then looked at me apologetically.

“Why would you do that? What did you say to her?” My head swam with questions.

“Because our family was broken!” My father and I were both startled by her outburst. “I needed to hang on to what was left of it. Charlotte got involved with someone who brought her nothing but trouble, and in the end he cost Charlotte her life. What did we do? Nothing. We sat back and just watched it happen. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I told her it would be best if she let you go. Sent you home.” There were no tears, just a steely resolve I hadn’t seen in my mother in years.

“Ma, Chloe and me… and Charlotte… that’s not the same thing. You weren’t in any danger of losing me to her or to anyone. You had no right to go to her and say any of that.”

“I have every right. I’m your mother.” She lifted her chin defiantly.

“And I’m not a child!”

I’d never raised my voice to my mother before. I began to apologize, but my father said, “He’s right. Did we fail Charlotte? Maybe. But she also failed herself.” My mother gasped, but he kept going. “You think I don’t feel guilty? She was my baby girl and I couldn’t protect her. But this family isn’t going to heal by trying to control the children we have left. And I’m not just talking about Patrick. Maggie’s marriage is over. You can’t fix that. She’s an adult and we will support her, but she needs to make her own decisions. Trying so hard to control everything is going to tear this family further apart.”

She didn’t argue, just cried as my father took her hand. I couldn’t believe what she’d done, and I was angry, but I also felt sorry for her. If there’s one thing I learned over the past few months it’s that everyone grieves differently. My mother’s way proved to be destructive, but her heart was in the right place. That’s the only reason I didn’t completely lose it with her at that moment.

I stood up and headed for the door.

“Patrick.” My mother sniffed and wiped the tears streaming down her face. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

*** 

I’d spent the last few months living in luxury, but stepping into my apartment felt more comforting than anything a five-star hotel offered. It looked very much as it had when I left, like four months hadn’t passed and I’d just come home from a day at the studio. I called for Chloe but didn’t get an answer. Her bedroom door was ajar and I could see that she wasn’t in there. I put my luggage into my bedroom and went back to the living room.

It was warm for early evening so I closed the windows and switched on the air conditioner unit. Then I went to the kitchen in search of something cold to drink while I waited for Chloe to get home. I considered calling her cell, but she had never answered any of my calls before and I had no reason to think that it would be any different now.