The Perfect Mistress (20 page)

T
oday was one of those rare days when Lauren got to lounge around the house and relax. She had broken down and called Matthew back to take him up on his offer to go to the concert. They'd ended up having the best time they'd had in years.

The two had been talking almost daily over the last three weeks. They'd fallen right back into their natural groove, and she loved that not once had he talked to her about sex. They'd had amazing sex in college, but she was so much more experienced now. She'd love the opportunity to show him that. At some point.

Everything inside her had wanted to invite Matthew back up to her place after the concert last night, but she knew that would be opening Pandora's box. She'd bowed out of a nightcap with the excuse that she had to finish a jewelry order for the Houston Women's League for seventy-five custom necklaces as gifts for their Mother's Day luncheon—an order that was actually finished two weeks ago.

That Women's League order should allow her to sit pretty for a while, since her pieces cost so much. So today she would be doing nothing but relaxing and getting caught up on her marathon of
Scandal
.

She'd already turned on “do not disturb” on her phone. The only numbers allowed to come through were from her favorites. She added Matthew to that list of two, which included Vivian and her mother's rehab, which technically wasn't a favorite but was a necessity.

The credits were rolling on the first episode of
Scandal
when her phone rang, which surprised her because she knew Matthew was on his flight to Hong Kong and Vivian had her weekend with her son. Her heart dropped when she saw the number for the Evergreen Center.

“Hello?”

“Yes, is this Ms. Robinson?” the woman said.

“It is.”

“This is Sophia at the Evergreen Center.”

“Yes,” Lauren said with trepidation.

“We, umm . . . have a situation here. Your mother, well, she took a pretty bad fall.”

“A fall?” Lauren's heart started racing. “What?”

“She's okay, but they are transporting her as a safety precaution.”

“Okay. Transporting her where?” Of course her mother would find a way to mess up her serene day. Lauren shook off that thought. Her mother didn't know she had a day off, let alone conspired to destroy it.

“Well, where is she?” Lauren repeated.

“I just wanted to let you know that, again, she is okay, but that did spark cause for concern. She's at Duke Regional.”

“Okay,” Lauren said, throwing back the afghan and getting up. “I'll be there in about thirty minutes.”

Exactly thirty-three minutes later, Lauren pulled into the
hospital, then whipped into a handicap parking space. She'd come move her car later, she thought, as she grabbed her purse and raced inside.

“Yes, I'm here to see Joyce Robinson,” she said once she reached the nurse's station.

The woman tapped some keys on her keyboard. “Yes, she was just admitted. And you are?”

“I'm her daughter, Lauren. Is she okay?”

“Oh, yes.” The nurse was one of the cold, efficient sorts. “Your mother is fine but you'll have to talk to the doctor about specifics. She's in Room 236.”

Lauren raced down the hall to find her mother sitting up on the edge of the bed, arguing with the nurse who was trying to get her to lie down.

“Get your hands off of me, lady!” her mother cried.

“Mrs. Robinson, please. Calm down,” the nurse said.

“Mom,” Lauren said, poking her head in the door. Their eyes met and briefly they connected. But, just as quickly all recognition was gone.

“Mom?” her mother replied, a frown etched across her face. “I don't know you.”

Lauren could tell by the expression on the nurse's face that she was confused. “I'm her daughter,” Lauren told the nurse as she walked over to her mother. “It's okay, Mom. Just do what the nurse says.”

Joyce snatched her arm away. “I don't have any daughters. I just have a son.”

Even though she should've been used to the insults by now, it hurt Lauren to hear her mother deny her. Again. And it would be different if she could say for sure if it was the brain tumor.

“Yes, I'm your daughter,” Lauren mustered up the strength to say. “Julian, my brother, your son, is out of town. I take care of you.” Her words were slow and deliberate, as if speaking them slowly would make a difference.

“I don't need anybody to take care of me,” her mother snapped. She turned to the nurse. “Get her out of here.”

“Mom . . .”

“Why do you keep calling me that? Who are you? Why are you in here?” Joyce was getting more and more riled up.

The nurse finally stepped forward. “Ma'am, I'm trying to get her settled,” she told Lauren. “This may be making it worse.”

“I-I'm just trying to help.” The realization that her mother wasn't faking tore at her heart.

“Leave me alone. Where's my husband?” Joyce demanded. “Vernon!” she started yelling. “Vernon! Where's Vernon? Tell him I'm in the hospital and to come get me out of here.”

“Ma'am, I need you to calm down,” the nurse said.

Lauren swallowed the lump in her throat. “Mama, Daddy isn't here.”

“He's never here when I need him,” she snapped. “Tell him I said get back here. I need him. I need him!” Joyce buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

Lauren wanted to cry, too. If she'd had any doubt about whether her mother was acting, it was gone now. She'd only seen her mother enter that state where she longed for her husband twice before. But each time was more painful than the last. And this time was no exception.

“Mama, you need to lie down and calm down so they can evaluate you, then we can get you out of here. This—”

Before Lauren could finish her sentence, her mother lurched upward and slapped her hard across the face. The blow was stinging and brought even more tears to Lauren's eyes. Her mother hadn't hit her in years, but that blow packed an emotional and physical punch.

“I told you. Stop calling me ‘mama'! I would never have a daughter that dresses like a whore.” She looked at Lauren's tight jumpsuit in disgust.

The nurse stepped up. Her voice was gentle as she said, “I'm sorry, it might be best if you left.”

Lauren glared at her mother as she fought back the tears.
Gladly,
she thought. Sick or not, she was leaving, and the way Lauren was feeling, she doubted she would ever be back.

Y
ears ago, Lauren swore that her mother would no longer make her cry, and for the most part, she had held true to that promise. But on the way home, her emotions were betraying her. She couldn't hold back the river of tears. This visit had drained the life from her.

Lauren had asked the doctor what caused her mother's meltdown, but no one could tell her anything. She hadn't stuck around to find out why her mother had passed out.

Lauren usually bore the brunt of her mother's fiery temper. But today the vitriol was on a whole other level. Despite her love for her mother, Lauren could take only so much.

As she was driving, Lauren could no longer control the waterworks. Then she saw her brother's phone number pop up on her caller ID. She quickly pushed
DECLINE
. Julian called back two more times and then sent a text:

I know you're sending me to voice mail. Answer the phone.

Although Lauren had no desire to speak to him, she pulled over to the side of the road so that she wasn't driving down the freeway screaming at her brother. And she had no doubt that this conversation would end in a screaming match.

“What do you want?” she said when he picked up.

“What the hell did you do?” he yelled at her.

How typical, to blame her. “Look, Julian, don't start with me.”

“What happened today? Mama is hysterical. The nurse called me. They can't calm her down. You got her worked up, then didn't bother to stick around.”

“You know what?” Lauren yelled right back. “I'm taking a page from your book. Not bothering to stick around.”

“Don't go there with me.”

“No, you know what, Julian? Let's go there. I'm tired. This woman hates me. She's hated me for years and I have put up with it. I have endured. Meanwhile, you use the distance as an excuse to distance yourself from us.”

“What would you suggest I do, Lauren?” Julian huffed.

“Be there for her. Come see her. Hell, move her there with you. She hates me and she doesn't hesitate to let it be known. I'm sick and tired of it!”

“Our mother is sick, Lauren. Cut her some slack.”

“You don't think I know that?” Lauren cried, the tears flowing full stream now. “I see the disease literally sucking the life from her. I see the sadness in her eyes. And I put on a brave front even though it's painfully obvious my mother is going to die hating me.”

This brought him up short. Several seconds passed before he said, “So, is that what this is all about? You're upset because she's mad at you for betraying her?”

Lauren told herself not to participate in this old game. “I know exactly what I did to her. Neither of you will ever let me forget.”

“Look, Lauren, I don't want to fight with you. I'm just really worried about Mama.”

“Move. Her. There.”

“I've already explained,” Julian replied. “You know we can't do that. I have a family.”

And I don't and never will,
she thought to herself. She knew those were the unspoken words her brother wanted to say. For the longest time, Lauren had never really cared about a family. But the loneliness was setting in. The men in her life were temporary companions. They didn't care about her problems with her mother. They weren't there to comfort her through whatever she might be going through. They wanted a good time, period. Lauren found herself longing for something more. Right now she wanted to talk to Matthew.

“Are you there?” Julian said.

“Julian, I can't do this with you today,” Lauren replied. “I'm drained. I'm exhausted and I just want to get home. I'm done.”

“No. You're not,” he replied. “That is our mother and you will not be done as long as she has breath in her body.”

“I can't do it anymore,” she cried.

“You owe it to her,” he said with conviction.

Lauren leaned her head back on the headrest. She knew those words were coming. He hadn't thrown them in her face in quite some time. But here it was. His rabbit in the hat.

“I think my debt is paid,” she replied.

“Your debt will
never
be repaid. Look at your mother. It will never be repaid,” he repeated.

Tears slid down Lauren's face. How long did she have to pay? How long
could
she pay? She just wanted to forget. She
just wanted to move on, and while she would never utter the words out loud, she was ready for her mother to just die. Then and only then would she finally be free.

“Julian, I have to—”

“Housekeeping!”

Lauren stopped talking at the high-pitched female's voice.

“Uh, are you in a hotel?” she asked.

Julian sounded ruffled for a moment, then quickly answered, “Yeah. I, uh, had to get some classified work done and the twins were driving me crazy, and Rebecca's sister is there, so I just came here for a few days.”

Lauren didn't really care. She was exhausted and just wanted to get off the phone. “All right, Julian. I really do have to go.”

“This conversation isn't over,” he said. “We can't add to Mama's stress—”

“Bye, Julian . . .” she said, cutting him off and ending the call.

We
weren't doing anything. She was doing it all. And the burden was becoming too much to bear.

A
lone leaf fluttered from a large oak tree and settled right outside the window. Joyce couldn't help but notice how it seemed content being alone. The sight took her back to the days when she used to garden and enjoy being outdoors. She further remembered the tree that she and Vernon had planted the day they moved into their house.