The setback, p.9
The Setback, page 9
“You think I would never be able to live here because I’m a Stanford educated, Harvard business degree wielding captain of industry,” she says. “But my sister went to Yale and Harvard and she has one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever seen.”
“And that’s what will keep you from ever being welcome here,” I say. “You think you’re better than everyone else, that your mind is so superior to theirs that they’re practically beneath your notice. But your sister Abby, big-brained though she may be, has a correspondingly big heart. She uses her education and gifts to right wrongs and eliminate injustices. She doesn’t lord it over people and make them feel small. That’s why, though you may not have realized it yet, she’s already one of the most important people in town. It’s why she belonged almost the very second she arrived.”
“It’s also why she’s being run ragged with stupid problems that are beneath her.”
“People love her,” I say, “because she loves them. It’s actually pretty simple.”
Helen stares at me, but not with her should-be-patented terrifying glare. No, she stares at me as though she’s analyzing me. It’s the same look she turns on proposals for the retreat when she’s deciding where the weak points are.
And then without another word, she turns and leaves.
Why does every single interaction with her feel like the most hideous argument of my life? Like I’m trying to catch a hurricane in a hydro flask? Or like I’m trying to stay on a miserable bull for a few more seconds before it breaks my back?
I’m nearly shaking by the time I reach my car, and that’s when I realize that I’m a little more like Helen than I’d care to admit. Mandy’s meeting with some people from the county to convince them to re-grant our approvals, and Abby has a doctor’s appointment that I really hope is just routine. Other than the two of them, I really don’t have anyone to ask to come with me. I mean, I could ask Donna, but she’s engaged now too, and she’s probably plenty busy planning her upcoming wedding and dealing with a new job.
Abigail seems to know everyone. Her wedding was jam packed. Ours probably will be, too, but only because people like Eddy. I can taunt Helen about how people love Abby because she’s lovable, but I’m not really the most welcoming person either.
If I’m being honest, the reason I hate Helen is that I’m jealous.
Abigail loves me. I know she does. She would have happily come with me and shared her opinions on things. She loves my girls, and she does everything she can to help and support us. But she loves Helen, too, and I hate that she has a real sister who is now here.
I’ve gotten used to telling people that Abigail’s my sister, but now when I say that, they say, “Oh, wow. Helen and Abby look so much alike, but you look totally different.”
Or they say, “I had no idea she had two sisters.”
Like I’m a phony.
Like I’m second best.
Like I’m inherently less important to Abigail than Helen.
A tap on the fogged-up window of my car startles me. What time is it? Are the girls home? But when I open the door, it’s not the girls. There are hours yet before they’ll be done with school.
The person standing outside my car door is my mom.
“Did you want another somebody along?” She swallows. “I’d be happy to come.”
Why didn’t I think of her?
Probably because of all the people in the world, she’s the one I’ve worked hardest not to care about the opinion of. I mean, mostly her opinion has been hurtful. She didn’t care about me enough to help me with anything or even pay attention to what I was doing when I was a kid. And then once I got older, she only cared what I was doing inasmuch as it meant I might have money for her to steal.
Only this time, when I offered them money, they didn’t take it. And Dad and my brothers are working, and she stayed here to spend more time with me.
It feels surreal, to be honest.
“Um, okay.”
On the drive to the resort—David Park’s resort is hosting the reception, of course, and the chef there was insistent that they have first pass at the catering job—things are pretty awkward. I’m not sure what to say, and Mom clearly has no idea either.
“You didn’t see your brothers much while they was here,” she finally says. “They wanted to get to see you more.”
“You could have let me know you were coming in advance,” I say. “Then I might have been able to make time to do some things. You know, show them around.”
She frowns. “Maren sure is big. She’s just like her mom.”
“You’re saying I’m big?”
“No.” Mom shakes her head. “I mean, she’s beautiful and really has a lot of opinions for a young woman. She’s hard to boss.”
“Maren’s a mean-girl brat. I can’t believe you think I was like that.” That’s not entirely fair. She’s gotten a lot better since being around Izzy, but still.
“It’s all coming out wrong,” Mom says. “I’m trying to say something nice.”
My hands grip the wheel tightly. “I know you are. It’s just weird, a compliment coming from you.”
She sighs.
“Just be patient, okay?” When I glance her way, she’s staring at her hands where they’re folded in her lap.
“I know I’m a bad mother.”
And now she’s putting me in the position of having to argue with her. Well, I won’t. Bad was a nice word for the kind of mother she was. Neglectful, selfish, embarrassing. They’d all have been insufficient to address the breadth of her deficiencies as well.
“For years, I left you alone cuz I didn’t have a right to show up and crow about your success. I didn’t help you with them none. But then when I saw you getting married again. . .”
“That’s when you what? Why are you really here? You have to want money, right?”
“Amanda, that’s not fair.”
“Two months after Paul and I got married, you showed up. You guys wouldn’t leave, not until Paul bought you a car and gave you a pile of money to pay off your credit cards.”
“We didn’t have a choice,” Mom says. “You know your dad had a drinking problem back then, and we owed some scary guys.”
I’m tired of hearing all her excuses. “What do you really need this time?” I ask. “If you just tell me, maybe I can help.” And then I’ll finally understand why they came. Even sweet, forgiving Abby doesn’t buy the act.
Mom’s face looks hurt when I finally glance her way. Well, too bad. I refuse to apologize for the truth.
When we reach the taste-testing, she has her forced smile firmly in place. “Ain’t this the nicest place for a wedding I ever seen?” She’s looking around like a schoolgirl.
Which might be fine if she was Maren, but a nearly seventy-year-old woman acting like she thinks she’s a teen?
It’s embarrassing.
This type of absurdity is at least known territory.
She gives me her input on the food. She hates all the frufru things, which is probably exactly what I needed to hear. No mussels, escargot, or caviar. She practically gagged when she saw the Wagyu tartare. She liked the burrata, which they paired with fresh peaches and tomatoes, layered on toasted French bread, but she said, “Why did they have to ruin the peaches like that? Someone should tell them that peaches don’t go with tomatoes.”
All in all, I probably selected a better menu with her help, given the majority of the audience will probably share her culinary close-mindedness.
When we head for the car, Mom’s head is down. She’s almost shuffling as she walks, probably because of the intermittent ice patches. But for the first time, when I look at her, I see a frail old woman.
I was so busy when I was growing up tallying her shortcomings that I never really considered what her life was like. Maybe she hated missing my activities. Maybe it gutted her to always be begging me for money.
But what if I was the only person she knew each time who had any?
“Thanks, Mom,” I finally force myself to say. Because above all else, she was at least trying today.
I’m climbing into the driver’s side when movement catches my eye. It’s David Park, waving. I stand again, closing the door. The last thing I need is loads of questions from my mom. It took enough convincing from me to get Eddy to agree to this as the venue. If Mom misunderstands something and sets him off again. . .
“I didn’t know you were coming,” he says. “I hope they treated you well.”
“Of course,” I say. “Your chef’s better than I expected, even. I told him I don’t need to meet with anyone else, and we have a final menu.”
David beams. “I’m happy to hear it. I sort of poached him from California. He’s a few years away from retirement, and that’s perfect timing. See, California has this horrible claw-back thing on retirement funds. If the professional works for five years or more outside of California before retiring, they won’t insist on being paid taxes out of his or her retirement savings. I heard that he wanted to work somewhere else for five years before retiring, and I used that to convince him that Utah would be just the place.”
“I hope he doesn’t hate it.”
“He’s a big hiker. I kind of glossed over the lack of shopping and amenities and spent a lot of time oohing and aahing about the Gorge.”
“It is a spectacular view.” I can’t help my half-smile. “Will you miss it?”
“Miss it?” David’s eyebrows rise. “Why?”
“Helen said—” I snap my mouth shut. “No reason.”
He grins. “I can imagine what Helen said, but we’ve come to terms.” He looks shockingly smug. Very few people look that way after an interaction with my new business partner.
“I thought you hated her.”
“I hated her date to that wedding. Kyle is the worst kind of person.”
“So is Helen.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure,” he says. “She’s a tough nut, to be sure, but I think if she cracks, she might not be so bad after all.”
I can hardly process what he’s saying.
“But listen, I won’t keep you.” He glances at the windshield. “It looks like you have someone who came with you.” He squints. “It’s not Abby, is it?”
I shake my head. “It’s a friend who came to help me pick food. Abby’s at a doctor’s appointment.”
“She’s having another kid, huh?” He whistles. “Greedy, isn’t it?”
I laugh. “You sound like Donna. You want kids?”
He shrugs. “I’d love a dozen, but you know, they’re a little hard to come by when you only want them with the perfect mother.” He sighs. “All the ones I’d be willing to take get snapped up.”
Just another reason we weren’t a good fit. Eddy gets that I am done with the tiny-human-making. At least David’s a guy. He can marry someone half his age and have his twelve kids if he wants. I hope he does.
“You should ignore Helen’s taunts and head back to California,” I say. “There are way more women there who might be decent mothers.”
He bites his lip. “I’ll keep that advice in mind, but for right now, I’ve just negotiated myself a pretty decent opportunity.”
I can’t help my curiosity. “With Helen?” When he doesn’t immediately say no, it makes me nervous. “Because she’s got partners. She can’t just go around selling and buying things on her own.”
He smiles the half-smile I’m most used to seeing on him. “She didn’t buy or sell or trade anything that wasn’t entirely hers.”
Now I really want to know what he’s talking about. But my mom chooses that moment to open her door. “Who’s this?”
“We better go.”
Before David can be the polite soul he is, I wave at Mom, climb in the door and turn on my engine. His eyes are wide when we tear out of the parking lot. The last thing I want is for David Park to meet my mother. I’d like it if at least some of the residents of the area didn’t connect me to her, and he does not want to be on her call list when she does need money.
“He was handsome,” Mom says.
“We used to date,” I say. “Kind of.”
Why did I say that? I’m an idiot.
Mom pelts me with questions the entire way home. I’m not sure why it makes me blush so much, or why I tell her so much about our history. How he pursued me when Eddy was on tour, how he took me to Abby’s wedding, and how Eddy showed up and they nearly came to blows.
“How exciting,” Mom says. “You do take after me.” She looks almost proud.
“What?”
“Your dad wasn’t my only suitor, you know.” She tosses her hair.
“Um, yeah, how could I ever forget Roy’s dad?” I cringe saying it. The year Dad was in prison, Mom made a new boyfriend, and when Dad got out and he ran off his competition, the loser she was dating left his son with us.
Roy’s been part of our family ever since.
If you’re in a bad enough situation that joining my family is a step up, let’s just say your life must be in dire straits. Maybe that’s why Roy was always my least obnoxious brother. I wonder whether he thought he might get kicked out. He’s also never understood why I ran away and never looked back, so he’s not that bright.
My mom’s still comparing our love lives, and I feel ill.
The rest of the way home, I’m subjected to the most terrifying stories about the guys Mom dated. Objectively speaking, my dad still sounds like he was the worst prospect. She’s either exaggerating, or she had very poor judgment. I don’t bother asking which—it’s unlikely most of what I’m hearing is even true. Instead, I just smile and make little comments here and there, forcing myself to pretend to enjoy it.
The funny thing about pretending is that sometimes you forget you’re doing it. That long drive becomes, possibly, the best time I’ve ever spent with my mom. When I drop her off at the hotel and Eddy calls, asking me to come by, I’m almost sad.
“Thanks for your help today,” I say.
“No problem.” She smiles. “It was my honor. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.”
That kind of stings. I never realized she knew she was making me cringe. “Not at all,” I lie.
“That’s nice of you to say.”
For the first time in a very long time, I actually feel kind of lousy about the anger I harbor against my mother. By the time I get to Eddy’s, I’m actually wallowing in it. “I might be a bad daughter, too,” I say when he opens the door. “But if so, isn’t that also her fault?”
“Good to see you, too.” He’s smiling when he presses a kiss against my lips. Eddy’s arms wrap around me and it’s like I can breathe again. I don’t really have to worry about whether I’m a bad person.
If someone like Eddy likes me, I can’t be that bad.
“That menu you sent sounds perfect. I kind of expected more seafood soufflés or something.”
I laugh. “Mom steered me away from anything really good.”
“Sounds like she was the perfect assistant.” He takes my hand and drags me into the family room. “If it’s something you think is classy and perfect, it will probably be widely under-appreciated around here.”
I sigh and drop into my favorite spot on his big comfy couch. “Mom said the same thing, but less politely.”
“I’m sure she meant well.”
“I’m beginning to worry that she might,” I say softly.
He chuckles. “Worry? Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“Have you heard of that internet thing, ‘who’s the jerk?’”
“Do you mean who’s the a—”
“Yes, that.” I roll my eyes.
“Sure. I’ve seen the posts. People posting about situations to have people comment and say who was wrong.”
“I’ve always been sure of a few things.” I hold up a finger. “The earth is round.” I hold up another. “Gravity keeps me from being able to fly like I should.”
He laughs.
I hold up another finger. “You can never have enough money.”
He nods. “Sure, sure.”
“And my family is a total loss.”
He looks sad, this time. “You know, I grew up thinking almost the same thing.”
“Your sister’s great,” I say, “and your parents adore you.”
“That’s true,” he says. “But they fight constantly. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have your parents arguing over who melted the chapstick when you’re at a track meet?” He covers his face with his hands. “Or shouting at each other in the grocery store about whether they should buy mayonnaise or Miracle Whip?”
“What’s Miracle Whip?”
“Mom’s from Georgia. She swears by it.”
“Okay.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that family is complicated, and a lot of people think theirs is the worst. Maybe yours isn’t as bad as you thought, but that doesn’t mean you’re a villain. Your mom’s here, trying to make amends.”
I think about that.
“Maybe you should let her.”
“It’s hard, though.”
“You forgave Mandy for faking her death.”
I mean, I kind of did. I still get so angry about it sometimes that I can’t look at her. Other times, I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, terrified she really did die. “I think I wasn’t equipped to not forgive her.”
“Well, if you can try and get over that, maybe you should try and get over your mom being a little neglectful.”
“She disappeared for weeks at a time,” I say.
“Alright, a lot neglectful.”
“She sold my school books and bought alcohol with them.”
He cringes. Sometimes I forget that he had some substance abuse problems too.
“Anyway, I’m going to try.”
“Speaking of fresh starts.” He smiles full throttle.
Sometimes it still catches me off-guard, like a front door slamming on my hand. Like a car backfiring. Like that moment the biscuit can finally pops open.
He’s so unbearably handsome, and he loves me.
“What? Did something from our registry come?”
“Wait, did you put my address down?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that,” I say. “I’ve thought about it, and I’ve talked to the girls, and we know your office is close, so it makes sense for us to move here after the wedding.”
