Page 16 of Belong With Me
I reach across the table and lower her arm, my face heating from the glares the other patrons give us. “It’s okay, Mom. I don’t want anything.”
“Well, you’re not missing anything,” she huffs, taking a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think they used the sugar-free caramel syrup like I asked.”
Since walking in, my mind has been stuck in a whirl-wind ofwhat the fuck is going on, but I can’t hold back the question any longer. “What are you doing here, Mom?
Why did you leave that note after all these years?”
She tilts her head. “Didn’t you get the first note I left you a few weeks ago?”
I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Everything will be okaynow.
“Yes?” I say, but it comes out like a question because I’m confused.
“Oh, good!” She grabs the sunglasses from the table, folding the arms in and slipping them into her purse. It’s a luxury brand that I know she wouldn’t have been able to afford when I was living with her. She follows my line of sight.
“Oh, this old thing? Jim buys me a new one practically every week. You must have heard about our relationship in some tabloid or other by now. He’s just the sweetest.
I swear I can do no wrong in his eyes. Just last week he brought me to the premiere of that new superhero movie and got me this gorgeous custom designer gown. The star of the movie even gaveherdesigner shit for not getting her something similar! Did you see me in the press on the carpet? I was on every best-dressed list!”
“I never search you on the internet,” I say just to get that dig in. It’s only kind of a lie. The last time I searched her was a few months before I moved to King City, and she was in a tabloid for sunbathing topless on her executive producer boyfriend Jim Langley’s yacht.
She seems disappointed for only a moment before she recovers smoothly. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re here in person so we can catch up, then!”
I have so many questions for her, questions I never thought I’d get the chance to ask:Why did you leave us?Why didn’t you ever come back for us? Why are you here?Why now, when I’m settling in and things are finally startingto feel normal?Do you miss us as much as we miss you?
Florence continues before I have the chance to voice any of that. “How’s school? You’re a senior now, right? Do you have a boyfriend? What am I saying, look at you! Of course you have a boyfriend. Maybe even several! Do they know about each other? You know, before I got knocked up by your father, I was never a one-man kind of girl; all that commitment just wasn’t for me. But, of course, I’ve changed now that I’m with Jim.” She gives a little laugh and sips her coffee. “Oh, it’s so nice talking with you now that you’re older. We could’ve never had a real talk like this when you were younger.”
I still have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I wasn’t sure what to expect when coming here to meet Florence, but it wasn’t this. Pretending nothing bad ever went down? Acting like we’re best friends and catching up like it wasn’t herchoiceto have no contact with either of her daughters? It all makes my stomach sour as she sits there and talks like it isn’t a big deal that she ditched us and is now back, talking about my body and boyfriend status like she’s entitled to know any of that. Especially since I haven’t really been getting a word in—and notoncein all the talking she’s been doing has she asked about Gia.
Florence continues, “You know, you’re so prett—”
“Gia’s good too,” I cut her off, unable to take it anymore. “Got an A on her English paper and joined the debate team. She’s also signed up for volleyball and will probably make the team since she’s been great in tryouts.”
Florence blinks at me like she forgot she had another daughter. “Oh, that’s great! I’m so proud of you both.”
Now that the initial shock is wearing off, I’m able to look at Florence with a clear mind and a hard heart and ask, “What are you doing here, Mom?”
She opens her mouth, but I cut her off to clarify, “And I mean what are youreallydoing here? Don’t bullshit me.”
Florence frowns and wraps both hands around her coffee cup as if trying to steal some of its warmth. She looks very concerned, genuinely motherly; it’s almost off-putting. “I saw everything on the news, and I wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing.”
“That was, like, two months ago.”
“Well, I came back a few weeks ago but no one was home. I didn’t want to deal with your father, so I just let myself in. Dario’s so predictable, he still hides a key under the front mat, which isnotthe safest thing to do with my daughters in his house. I wanted to stay and chat in person, but I couldn’t—I had a networking party with Jim—but I left you a note somewhere I knew you’d find it. I couldn’t just give it to Dario or his annoying sister, they’d never pass it along. I kept it vague in case they found it; I didn’t want to give too much away. But I thought they found it and threw it out because you never reached out to me.”
There are so many things wrong with what she just said. She came back for the first time in years and left a note under my pillow instead of waiting for me because she had better things to do? Because she didn’t want to see Dario or Zia Stella? She thinks living with Dario in his big house with a full pantry in a quiet neighborhood is more dangerous than where she left us with Aunt Julie? And givewhataway? The note didn’t say anything! Plus, how could I possibly reach out to her? I don’t have her phone number since she changed it when she ditched us in LA.
Is she really here to check in on me? She seems like she cares, in the most Florence way possible. But did it really take killing a guy to get my mom to come back?
“Speaking of,” Florence continues, sitting up straighter and leaning forward, “how was all of that?
What happened? Why did you do it? How did you do it?
Julie barely gave me any details over the yelling, and your father claimed sole custody during the case. I didn’t feel like fighting the lawyers.”
I take a breath but hesitate. She sounds like a reporter, and even though she’s saying she doesn’t know much, that can’t be true. I was in the news because I’m her daughter, and Florencedefinitelywould’ve seen it if her name was attached to it.
“You know,” I start, “all the headlines that came out after I was arrested kept comparing me to you.”