Page 66 of The Cruiser
“I’m not sure. Derek called me the other day because Stryker’s taken him off the next movie.”
“Stryker? Oh, dear god,” she moans. “We’re doomed.” Mom knows all about Stryker’s opinions. They were fast friends. I have a sneaking suspicion they also slept together, but I don’t dare to ask either.
I slump onto one of the patio chairs. “We aren’t doomed,mother. I ran into Stryker and asked him to keep it on the down low.”
“And you’ll do what he wants so he keeps his mouth shut?” she asks.
“Do what?”
“Sexual favors! The international currency of women. Jesus, Vandana, where did I go wrong with you?”
“Honey,” Elaine grunts. “You’re giving your mom a heart attack.”
I feel a migraine coming on. “Okay, Mom, thanks for your concern, but I got this. Now I’m going to say goodbye because it’s almost one in the morning here.”
“Where are you?”
“In Monaco. Remember?”
“You went against our advice? I explicitly said you can’t—”
“Wait, wait, Ivy,” Elaine cuts in. “This could be good. The press can’t find her in Europe. Not right away. My girl Riva, she’s got a house in Israel. Haifa. Nice place. Lots of ladies I know go there after surgery. Door’s always open.”
Mom perks up. “That sounds ideal. What do you think, Vandana? A little Middle Eastern sojourn until the election is over?”
Oh, god. As if. “Let me be perfectly clear. I am not hiding out. Not for dad, not for you. And certainly not for me. This is my life and I’ll handle it. Back off!”
Fired up, I pace back inside while mom sniffs with indignation.
“I’m telling you, Elaine. She’s always been this difficult. Even at birth.”
“Mom, don’t you dare.”
But she’s unleashed and ready to tear me down. “I needed stitches to sew up my vagina after you. Your father couldn’t touch me for weeks. That’s when it all started.”
I lose it. One hundred percent lose it. “Why don’t you get your head out of your ass for one flipping second and take some of the blame? Your husband’s infidelity is not my fault. You didn’t accompany him on business trips. You barely took an interest in anything he did. Are you surprised he’s had affairs?”
In the crackle of scratchy cell phone connection, I can picture her face, trying hard to be furious but stopped by all the Botox. “I took several golf lessons. What else was I supposed to do?”
“I honestly don’t know how you’ve done it all these years, Mom, but being here, I realize how unhappy I’ve been. With Derek. My work. How you treat me. I’m not putting up with this shit anymore.”
Instead of recognizing my bitterness for what it is, Mom gallops down a completely irrational, boned-in-the-head path of logic. “Calm down, darling,” she says. “Just because Derek’s in crisis doesn’t mean you are. You’re one decent marriage away from being perfectly set up. And speaking of that, Lance Shelby is still on the lookout. Like we all didn’t know that Polish tart was only after him for the immigration papers.”
“I never liked Lance and never will. He lit my hair on fire when I was thirteen, remember?”
“I believe we all agreed that was an accident,” she hedges.
“No! His parents negotiated you out of suing them.”
“Girls,” Elaine interjects, trying to settle us.
But I’m so done, it’s not even funny. “I’m hanging up now. And this is long overdue Mom, but please fuck right off.”
Something hot and rushing sweeps over me. A stain I don’t want to feel. I chuck my phone into the bed pillows and cry it out. Derek, Renan, Mom. What I’m feeling for Morgan. I feel like life is pivoting faster than I can keep up with and all my uncertainty pools into a teary wet spot on the bedspread. When I admitted my biggest fear to Morgan this afternoon, I wasn’t expecting an overwrought declaration of feelings in return. We’re not swoony teenagers in heat. And yes, he kissed me and smiled and said he knew what I meant, but I saw something pass over his eyes that read entirely different.
Doubt.
Like he’d made a mistake.
