Page 33 of The Deepest Lake

“I did. You even asked, about two months ago, if they were Jules’s size. At the time, I told you that yes, they were, more or less, but it didn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose says, deflated now. “I don’t remember that conversation.”

“It’s okay.”

Rose hears the sound of Matt’s office door opening. Ulyana calls from offscreen, saying she just put the kids in their car seats and the car is running. She’ll wait for him outside.

“Yeah, I know,” Rose says. “You’ve got to go.”

“Okay.” He half smiles. “Good work.”

Fuck you, she thinks, but instead she says, “I’ll call again if I find anything else.”

After the video call closes down, Rose leans her head against the door, wishing away her headache, and that image of Matt with a toddler, the scene of domestic chaos but also domestic contentment.

I even get along with his new wife. You could say we’re friends.

She’d said it to her therapist, as recently as last week. She’s said it within Jules’s earshot, many times, when anyone expressed surprise that they all still gathered for Thanksgiving and the Superbowl, year after year.

Now, Rose remembers Jules’s reply, the thing she said a year ago, just before Jules’s graduation, when they were having a minor civil disagreement about where the graduation party should be held. The choices were Rose’s house, with the new patio furniture she’d bought just for the occasion. Or Matt’s house, because the twins might need to nap and it would be easier for Ulyana.

“Mom. You don’t have to pretend to agree with Dad about everything, even though you’ve had a so-called amicable divorce,” Jules said.

“It wasn’t ‘so-called.’ We took pride in handling that well.”

“And you don’t have to pretend to get along with Ulyana.”

“I’m not pretending! She’s great.”

“She is great, I love her, too. And I like that you get along, most of the time. But.”

“But what?”

“You’re both moms.”

“So?”

“Put two moms in the same room, anywhere, and they’re going to compete.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t compete with other moms.”

“All moms compete with other moms.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“That’s what I think. You’re just too blocked to realize it.”

“What does ‘blocked’ mean?”

“You shut out the bad stuff. You don’t notice. You don’t reflect. You’d know a lot more about yourself if you tried. Maybe keep a diary.”

“A diary?”

At least she hadn’t told Rose to write a memoir. Rose would have laughed her out of the room.

11

ROSE