Page 91 of Never Forever

“Right. I mean seriously. What are the odds?” I said, half laughing and half sobbing.

Pretty fucking good,Devil Krasinski said.

21

Two Weeks Later

Carrie

Istood in front of the house in all its dilapidated glory. The late summer sun starting to set behind it. It was a beautiful monument to better days. A mountain of suitcases and carry-on bags were piled up on the sagging porch.

Today was the big day. Mom and Gran were finally leaving for their cruise.

Mom stepped out the front door, dressed in white linen pants and a bright orange sweater over a pink shell. Cecelia Piedmont still had it. She’d been a beauty in her day, and she’d only aged like fine wine. She looked regal, if a shade too thin.

Annie and I had grown up with a handwritten sign on our fridge – written, chillingly, in my father’s handwriting - that saidNothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

Which was a lie, it turned out. Because caramel macchiatos taste better than skinny feels.

However, Mom never escaped the power of that patriarchal control. She was a testament to denial. To self-deprivation. Only it seemed like when she was full of it, she put the leftovers on me. Mountains of it.

Despite all of that, the pressure, the guilt, the hypochondria just to keep me coming home, I knew I wouldn’t be where I was now if it wasn’t for her. My mom believed in me. More than I ever believed in myself. She didn’t just think I was special or tell me I was unique. She knew it. In her bones. That confidence I got from her cannonballed me into success. For that, I would always be grateful.

She was flawed. But she was my mom and I loved her.

“Hi Mom,” I called out to her, as I crossed the sandy stone path to the porch.

“You’re here,” she said, pressing a hand to her waist. “I wasn’t sure we could expect you.”

If backhanded compliments were an Olympic event, Mom would win gold every year. She could be tender in one breath, and the next she could slice me open with a blade so sharp I never even realized I was bleeding.

“I’m here,” I said, giving her the smile she wanted. “I wouldn’t miss this. You ready?”

I walked up to the foot of the stairs as Mom came down and we hugged. It felt like she was made of bird bones. “How are you doing Mom?” I asked her. “Really. I know this is a big deal for you both.”

“Oh. We’re fine. Maybe a little overwhelmed packing up the house and getting ready for the trip. But we’re ready.”

She gave me her best ready for anything smile.

It was a lie. She was scared shitless. Because as much confidence as she’d given me, my father had taken all of hers from her. The bastard.

“You’re going to have so much fun,” I told her. “Just think of seeing all those places you’ve only read about. Paris. Milan. The statue of David. Just think of Gran in front of the statue of David.”

Mom laughed, a horrified delighted bark. “Oh, she’ll be terrible,” she said.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take her.”

“Keep her away from gawking at a naked man? Fat chance.”

She cupped my cheek in her hand and sighed. “Now that the movie is over, I can see what a toll it took on you. You’ve got circles under your eyes.”

“I’m going to take some time off,” I said.

“Oh, good. But not too much time. You know how it is for an actress. You only have so many good working years before they start casting you in the mother roll.”

I nearly rolled my eyes. It was such a mom thing to say.

“Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m going to stay out here. Keep an eye on the renovation, so Annie doesn’t have to. Make sure the team is making good progress.”