Page 69

“She really wanted to see it.” Was he trying to buy her off? How transparent. Why didn’t I think of that? “Have her pack a suitcase. I’ll pick her up Friday after school.” He walked out.

I’d been suggesting we go toHamiltonfor months, but he said it was too expensive and New York was filled with muggers and dirt. I was seething. I took a pillow off the couch and pounded the living hell out of it. How dare he put our entire marriage on me? He was just as much at fault for our issues as I was.

Over the next couple of days, Gia pouted or stayed in her room most of the time and didn’t bring up anything about Jim and me. All she talked about was how much fun she was going to have next year on her own. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or punish me because she knew how much I was going to miss her. Why was she blaming me more than her dad for our problems? It wasn’t as if she knew anything about Michael. Moms always got the brunt of everything when dads were in the clear.

Before I knew it, it was Friday afternoon, and Gia and Jim were driving away. I was alone in the house. Not alone for the afternoon, but completely alone. Gia wasn’t calling me from upstairs, she wasn’t asking for food, and she wasn’t interrupting me. I hated it. I needed my daughter, I needed her noise, I needed a mojito. I’d never made one before, but if I was going to be on my own, learning a new skill would be good. I searched the internet for the ingredients: rum, soda water, lime juice, mint, and sugar. I had everything but the mint. I had curry, but that didn’t seem right. If I added a few extra teaspoons of sugar, would it really be that noticeable? I put the ingredients I had in a shaker and shook it for all it was worth. Then I poured my concoction into a highball. It was tart and sweet and felt good going down my throat. It wasn’t the best mojito, but the rum was doing its job.

When I put the liquor back, I saw that Gia had shoved a bunch of her favorite candy in the back. Her favorite was also my favorite. She was always coming up with new places to hide it from me, and now I couldn’t unsee the candy. It was calling to me. Would she really notice if I ate a piece or two? A moment later, I was drinking my faux mojito and stuffing my face with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. How sad I must’ve looked. Maybe if I invited someone over, I wouldn’t look so pathetic. I could call Ellen, but she was at her office, and she might still be mad at me.

Michael didn’t work at an office, and he wasn’t mad at me. Jim was the one who’d moved out and asked for the separation. It wasn’t as if I’d wanted it. But if we were separated, then why shouldn’t I see if Michael wanted to spend time with me? Besides, Jim went to seeHamilton, so there was that.

I sent a text:Hi. Sorry I left so abruptly last week and haven’t answered your texts.

It’s okay. Your mother just died.

Thanks for understanding. I’m sad, but I think I’m mourning a mother I wish I had, not the one I had, if that makes sense.

It does.

You are the only person I’ve admitted that to.

You can trust me.

I do.Okay, here goes.Are you free tonight? Jim and Gia are out of town.I was glad he couldn’t see me right then. Wearing sweatpants, eating stolen candy, and drinking a mint-less mojito.

He wrote:Sure. 7:30 at La Cucina?

I couldn’t go to La Cucina with him. Angelo would ask too many questions.How about Le Petit Chateau?A French restaurant was far sexier than an Italian one anyway.

Great, c u later.

I was going on a date, a real date. I hadn’t been on a real date since Jim and I got together. Would I know what to do? I supposed we’d talk and drink and … Wait, what would come after talking and drinking? Would he expect me to invite him to my house? The last time I’d seen him, we’d almost had sex. I didn’t know if I was ready for that, but just in case, I should have a good bottle of wine. I checked the refrigerator and the wine rack, but nothing saidI’m classy and might possibly want to have sex. I would need to go to the market for that.

As soon as I approached the electric doors of the market, I regretted my decision not to change out of my sweatpants. Three of the mothers from Gia’s school were standing just inside. They looked as if they’d just walked off the runway, and I hadn’t even brushed my hair. I was turning to leave when the doors automatically opened, and Jessica saw me.

“Hi, Maggie,” she called out. Ugh, I was stuck. Jessica gestured to the women with her. “Do you know Emma, Amanda, and Susan?” she asked, as if our daughters hadn’t been in school together since kindergarten.

“Sure, hi,” I said.

“Hi,” they all said with all the phony enthusiasm of high school cheerleaders. I was suspicious of their friendliness, since they never gave me the time of day at any class events.

“Sorry to hear about you and Jim,” Emma said.

“What do you mean?” How could they know anything? We just told Gia a few days ago.

“We heard you two separated,” Susan said.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I saw Jim moving into my apartment building,” Jessica said.

“It’s so sad, especially for your daughter,” Amanda said. “Divorce is toughest on the kids.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if my husband ever divorced me,” Emma said.

“We aren’t getting divorced, just taking a break,” I said. The three women nodded at each other, as if I were delusional about my own life.

“It’s okay, we won’t tell anyone else,” Jessica said.