Something About You (Just Me & You) (37 page)

January 9

Dear Gage,

I’ve told you a little bit about my mother, Nola. Nola
told me that from the time I was in preschool I wanted to change the world. I’d
forgotten all about this. I always thought it was an acquired trait — one
I picked up after my parents’ divorce to make me feel like I had control over
something. But that wasn’t true. Politics has always been my passion. Nola
didn’t seem to be thrilled. I think she wanted me to be a kindergarten teacher
or party planner. Something nice and feminine. But the only thing Nola has ever
had to say about my chosen profession is the same thing she used to tell me on
the playground: play fair.

Nola got married and because my father had certain ideas
about marriage, she stayed home like any good mother should. But like fifty
percent of couples she wound up with only me — which is roughly one
hundred percent of what kept her marriage together. Don’t get me wrong. This is
not a woman in a terminal slump. She’s peached with her life even though it
took her a long time to finally get there.

I am my mother’s daughter minus the false start. My world
isn’t as big as it seems, Gage. I go to work, I go to social functions, and
then I come home. Lather, rinse and repeat. Okay, so I have a little bit of a
personal life. I watch Lifetime Television for Women like I did tonight (it’s
comfort food for the soul). You told me that I might get only one chance to
fight the good fight, and lately, I’ve been thinking about how to do that.

So yes, my world is small. But there are far bigger
worlds out there that need to be protected.

I can be many things. I can be stubborn, outspoken,
tactless, and ambitious to a fault. But there’s one thing I can never be:
selfish. I know who I am, Gage. I know who you are. I almost wish I didn’t. But
because I do, I know how much I’ll disappoint you. You’d eventually hate me for
the years I took from you (Nola says that’s the hardest part to reconcile).

So here is Sabrina doing the right thing. I hereby
terminate our relationship. I also release you from your agreement to pay me
rent and share my house. Try not to hate me. Love me only as long as you have
to. Then let it all go. But trust me, always. Trust me with
you
. That’s
who I’m trying to save.

Sabrina

Sabrina knew she was back in Texas when she saw passengers
standing around the baggage carousels wearing khaki shorts and sandals. She
hiked up the long sleeves of her black cotton sweater, wishing she’d thought to
check the weather in Austin before she left Iowa.

She stumbled forward to grab her bags from the rotating
platform. The suitcases had been heavy to begin with. Now they seem to have
expanded in size and width too. Her throat was parched, and her eyes felt
gritty. She imagined how the cool sheets of her bed would feel against her
cheek. Except that Gage wouldn’t be sleeping beside her. She’d wake up alone.

To what—?

Sabrina stepped into the loading area. The early-morning air
was excessively humid. Having grown accustomed to the crisp, dry climate of
Iowa, it was difficult for her to breathe. Luckily, cabs were in no short
supply. As the car sped down the main boulevard that took her home to Cadence
Corners, she stared at the passing storefronts — all of the boutiques,
coffee shops, and cafés she frequented. She’d only been gone for a week, but it
felt like months.   

She reached into her bag to turn her cell phone off airplane
mode. An ominous text message from Molly registered across the face of the
device:

What the HELL? Call me ASAP or your ass is grass.

Wonderful.
Sabrina stuffed the phone back into the
bag. She didn’t feel like facing off with Molly right now. Or tomorrow or the
day after that. There was one person she wanted to talk to right now. The only
person who could help her make sense of herself. The cab slowed down at the
light to make the last turn into her neighborhood.

“Wait,” Sabrina told the driver suddenly. “I’ve changed my
mind. Keep driving.”

The windows of Ella’s Edibles were dark. Her mother was a
ridiculously early riser, but Sabrina was sure that two-thirty in the morning
was pushing it, especially since the automated sprinkler system was still
clattering on the front lawn. It wasn’t her imagination or the fever; the
weather was stultifying, far too warm for any of the winter months. It was
definitely too balmy to be wearing a thick sweater, jeans and boots. She felt
herself busting a sweat as she pulled her bags up the sidewalk.

Sabrina knocked on the front entrance to the café until a
light went on in one of the upstairs windows. Through the door, she could hear
a faint creaking noise as the house’s sole occupant made her way down the
stairs. Then the windows were flooded with light as the café’s lights came on.

The door swung open. Nola squinted at her, her face greasy with
cold cream.

“Sabrina, dear, I hate to ask a question you already know
the answer to, but do you know what time it is?”

“I know, Mom.” Sabrina’s voice was hoarse. “I needed to see
you. I had to ask you something. It’s important.” She coughed into her sleeve.

“Oh, good lord. It’s almost three in the morning and I can
see from here that you’re as sick as a dog.” Nola opened the door and hustled
her inside. “What’s all this?” She looked at the pile of luggage on the porch.

“I’ve been out of town.” Sabrina hoisted the larger bags
through the entryway. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know.”

“So that explains why my phone calls went directly to voice
mail.” Nola deposited the train case on one of the café tables. “Let’s go
upstairs where it’s more comfortable.”

Sabrina followed her mother up two short flights of stairs,
which led to what was once a common area for Grandma Ella’s boarders, along
with four smaller rooms that Nola had converted into a main bedroom, two guest
rooms, and a study. Sabrina was comforted by her mother’s familiar décor, a
subgenre of shabby chic that was a bit too meticulously coordinated. The sofa
and loveseat were upholstered in a pink cabbage rose print and adorned with
leaf-shaped throw pillows. Vases of freeze-dried flowers tied with large silk
ribbons sat on the end tables. An open jar of potpourri was on the coffee
table. Sabrina dubbed the décor “floral galore.”

“I’ll put on some tea,” her mother said, moving toward a
small kitchenette where she prepared her own meals.

Sabrina wanted to collapse behind the small table, but if
she sat down she’d soon be sleeping. She leaned against the doorframe instead
and watched her mother move around the small area efficiently. Nola reached
into various cupboards. Teapot. Cups. Sugar bowl. Box of tea bags — always
chamomile after six o’clock. She ran tap water in the pot and put it on the
stove. Blue flames licked the burner after a brief tick and hiss.

“Now,” Nola said. “What question is so pressing that it
couldn’t wait until a decent hour?”

“Did you want to be a mother?” Sabrina asked.

Her mother looked startled. “Good lord, Sabrina. What
brought this on?”

“I have to know,” Sabrina said with urgency. “Did you?”

“Your question has a long answer. I need to ease into it.”
Nola got two tea bags out of the box. “I remember when you first started in
politics. You were so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. So earnest in your quest to
become your own woman. I was a little jealous of you sometimes.”

“Jealous? Of me?” Sabrina was surprised.

“I didn’t have the same choices you did, Sabrina. When I was
a young woman, no one ever asked me, ‘Do you want to get married?’ or ‘Do you
want to have children?’ Men and women got married, and babies came as sure as
spring. Doing anything else went against the natural order of things.”

“Is that a mom way of telling me that I should mind my own
business?”

“No, dear. That’s my way of telling you that I didn’t have a
choice in the matter.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sabrina scoffed. “Everyone has a
choice.”

“You think so, do you?” Nola paused with her hands on her
hips. “Your grandmother was a housewife. My brothers — your uncles — married
women just like dear mom. My girl friends graduated from high school with one
goal in mind: to get married and become mothers themselves. Most of them went
directly from their parents’ house to their husband’s house. I met Les at the
ripe old age of twenty-five. I was considered a spinster in some circles, and I
didn’t want to get stuck with that label for life. Those crazy women’s libbers I
saw marching around on campus? Bah! I thought they were rebelling against
razors and brassieres.
Never
underestimate the power of ignorance,
Sabrina.”

“Do you ever wish that you’d done things differently?”
Sabrina asked.

Nola stopped pouring scalding water into a cup and looked
vexed. “Do I regret the years I wasted in a loveless marriage? All of them.
What I don’t regret is
you
. You were the only good thing I got out of
the deal.”

“But you deserved so much more, Mom,” Sabrina said. “So did
Dad. I never wanted either of you to be unhappy.”

“Then we’ve somehow managed to raise a well-adjusted,
compassionate child in spite of everything,” Nola said. “You don’t turn into
some kind of superhuman once you become a parent, Sabrina. Sometimes parents do
the wrong things for the right reasons without knowing it, like Les and I did.
We thought that by trying to stay together, we were doing the right thing for
you. We were wrong.”

It was obvious all along.
Sabrina suddenly thought of
all of the things she hadn’t experienced or seen during her childhood. She
never saw her father kiss her mother before he went to work. He never took Nola
out on date nights. There had been no extended family vacations to Disneyworld
or camping trips to the endless blond beaches of the Gulf Coast. Only Friday
night dinners at Bella Notte, where everyone used the right utensils and ate in
silence.

How could she have been so blind?

Her parents had sacrificed a lot for her. Years of their
lives.

“Mom—” Sabrina began.

“Oh, don’t start up with the pity,” her mother interrupted
in a stern voice. “There’s no one to feel sorry for. I finally have the kind of
life I always wanted. Les married the woman he loved right from the start. So
he and I were a little slow on the draw.” She shrugged. “We must have done
something right. Our daughter is Chief of Staff to one of the most prominent
legislators in the state. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you ran for his
seat one day. When you do, I’ll tell everyone, ‘I helped create that
extraordinary woman’.”

Tears brimmed in Sabrina’s eyes. “Oh, Mommy.”

“Goodness. You haven’t called me ‘Mommy’ since you were
nine.” For a moment, Nola looked alarmed. Then the sweetest smile Sabrina had
ever seen spread across her mother’s face. The next thing she knew, she was
enveloped in Nola’s blue jacquard bosom, which smelled like buttercream and
Fracas.

“Did I answer your question?” Nola asked after the hug
ended.

“Yes.” Sabrina rubbed her runny nose with the sleeve of her
sweater. “I’m proud of you too, Mom. You’re a real businesswoman, just like
Grandma Ella. You make the best lemon cupcakes in the entire city. You’re
Nola
.”

“I get it from you, of course,” her mother said briskly.

“Me?”

“Please, Sabrina.” Nola gave her a look as she handed her
one of the cups. “Who do you think taught me how to be a self-starter? If you
hadn’t been running circles around me right when middle age was staring me
down, I’d probably be a serial divorcée. Now drink your tea before it gets
cold.”

Nola shepherded her into the living area, where an air
conditioning unit chugged away. Sabrina sank into the couch. The cold air felt
good on her brow. So did the warm teacup in her hands. She didn’t know if she’d
ever summon up the will to move again.

“There’s a man,” Sabrina confessed. “Gage.” Simply saying
his name aloud made her feel forlorn.

“I figured as much.” Nola tossed a coaster on the coffee
table and looked interested. “Gage from the cell phone?”

Sabrina nodded miserably. “He’s very tall, and he has dark
red hair. I think he’s the most beautiful man alive. He’s from a small town in
Iowa. Really small. I would have gone crazy if I’d lived there. He’s a little
bit crazy, come to think of it. He makes the most beautiful four-poster beds
I’ve ever seen. He loves his sister. He knows exactly what he wants out of
life. He’s generous and he’s strong.”

“I take it you actually love this one.”

“More than heaven, Mom.”

Nola sighed. “I was wondering why you looked so terrible —
other than being sick, of course. Does he love you back?”

“He says he does. But I think he loves the woman he thinks
I’ll eventually become. Everything moved so fast. What if he expects me to —
well—” Sabrina stared into her teacup.

“Have his children when you feel no calling to be a mother?”

“Yes.” Sabrina hated hearing it couched so bluntly.

“Then it’s not really love, is it?” Nola asked gently.

Sabrina shook her head dutifully in response. Her mother
always had a simple answer for everything. But this wasn’t so simple. She loved
Gage, loved him in a way that made her feel bright and golden, just like Molly
had described. But gold was soft and malleable.

Gold tarnished.

“I’m just so tired, Mom.” Sabrina didn’t try to stifle her
yawn.

“It’s no wonder.” He mother gave her a knowing look. “You’ve
spent all your life taking care of other people — me, Molly, Theo Ward,
and now this man, Gage. Slow down. Take care of yourself for a change.”

“I’ll try.” Sabrina was blissfully aware that she was
sinking further into the sofa and that Nola’s fingers were prying the teacup
from her hands. The same hands lifted her legs onto the couch and tugged off
her heavy boots.

Enduring a sore throat and a pounding headache at cruising
altitude had been far worse than pulling an all-nighter when the legislators
were filibustering on the House floor. Sabrina felt much better once the
tension started to leave her body. It felt nice to be taken care of.

Now she could hear her mother shaking out a throw. Then the
soft material blanketed her and the fringe tickled her chin. The lamp was still
so bright. She heard a soft click, and then …

Lights out.