“I won’t push you,” Anne said slowly, “but I thought maybe this could be a chance for us to get out of our comfort zones. Not just with the planning, but with, well, the two of us.”
Once a year or so, they spent the afternoon shopping in Brentwood, but besides those excursions, Anne genuinely couldn’t remember the last time she and Brooke had been alone together. “It would be nice to, ah,” Anne said, “to share time with you that meant something.”
Brooke’s mouth was falling open.
“If you let me help, I won’t pick at you. At least, I’ll give it my best effort. That’s a promise. And if Idopick at you, then you’ve got a free babysitter for the kids while you and Dan go out.” God, a whole night with three children under seven. It was plenty of incentive to police her own behavior.
“Um.” Brooke didn’t seem to know what to say. “I—when you put it like that—okay. You’re on.”
Anne gave Brooke a smile of real appreciation, hoping her little spritz of anxiety hadn’t shown on her face. Asking tohelp Brooke didn’t feel as overwhelming as putting a pause on drinking or looking at her eating habits, but it didn’t exactly feel easy, either. What if she wasn’t capable of working side by side with her daughter without hurting her? Without pushing her further away?
She’d just have to do her best.
“Are you sure, though, Mom? You’ve got plenty of other stuff to deal with right now.”
That was the understatement of the century. Anne sighed. “Like figuring out how I’m going to tell your sister about me. But, yes, I’m sure.”
Brooke gasped. “Wait a minute. You toldmefirst? Claire doesn’t know yet?”
“Well, no, not—”
“Can I be there when you tell her? Please? Oh,please? I’ll be so quiet. You won’t even know I’m there, except for all the waves of moral support I’ll be silently vibing in your direction.”
“Nice try. Forget it. You can vibe all the moral support you want from the comfort of your own home.” She yawned unexpectedly. It wasn’t even noon yet. “Brooke, I don’t want to kick you out, but there’s a lot I need to get done today.”
Brooke stood. “Sure. Absolutely. Um, Mom? Before I go?”
“Yes?”
“Maybe being out will make you happy,” Brooke told her with so much hope in her voice that it made Anne ache to hear it. “I mean, happier. You’ve seemed, I don’t know, like things have been a lot better these past few years, ever since you and—since the divorce. And—” She hesitated. “There are other women out there besides Sadie. You’re a total catch. I bet all the older LA lesbians will be fighting over who gets to date you, and—you know what? I’m gonna stop this train of thought right now before it makes us both really uncomfortable.”
“Oh. Uh, thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Anne walked Brooke to the door, silence fell, the kind that always seemed to rise between them, despite Anne’s best efforts. She’d never known how to make it go away, or at least make it feel easier.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.
Hand on the doorknob, Anne stopped. “You know,” she said quietly, the words coming from some deep place inside her, “I had an unhappy mother, too.”
I married down, her mother had told Anne when Anne couldn’t have been more than ten, old enough to see how the statement made her into proof of her mother’s bad choice.I could’ve been a Rockefeller—one of them danced with me—but I married your father instead. Learn from my mistakes, Anne Kathleen. You’re far too pretty to waste yourself. Find someone better than I did. Aim for the stars.
Aim for the stars, Mother had ordered, and half a century later, Anne had gone to the desert at night and stood there bundled in Sadie Rosenthal’s warm embrace. They’d looked up at the stars together.
“Your Grandma Lil,” she continued, opening the door. “She was deeply unhappy. And it wasn’t easy for me to be around her as a kid. In fact, it was awful. I’m sorry I put you through that, too, Brooke. I know what it feels like. But I can tell you’re trying to give your children something different from what you or I had. Something better. And I’m proud of you for that. Really, I am.”
A shaky inhale. “Wow. I, um, I honestly don’t know what to say, Mom. Except that my therapist is going to completely lose her shit when I see her on Thursday.”
“We can talk more another time,” Anne told her gently. “After your therapist learns all of this very personal information about me.”
“Okay.” Brooke still sounded stunned. She walked through the front door.
“And Brooke? If you breathe a single word about this to your sister before I get the chance to talk to her, I swear to God, I’ll buy Maverick a drum set for Christmas this year. The loudest one I can find.”
“Mom!” Brooke spun around. “I would never—”
“I love you,” Anne said. “Very much.”