Nobody’s Perfect

Chapter 36

I slogged through the editing and the process for putting my videos up, and then I texted my mother to say: I put up a video I d like you to watch. I promise from here on out you ll be the first person I call.

I paced. I willed my phone to buzz with a new text. I scooped the litter, washed my hands, scrubbed the sink, and then washed my hands again. I put in a load of laundry. I did anything and everything I could to keep from chasing that dopamine dragon by looking at the comments.

But then I checked my comments.

Well said!

OneBadMother49: Oh, Vivian. Nobody s perfect.

One bad mother.

But what kind of mother am I? A bad one, I guess.

1949: the year my mother was born.

Suddenly, those comments that had seemed so ominous or critical sounded . . . maternal.

Vivian, I know who you really are. Be careful.

Stop this insanity, Vivian, or you will regret it.

Shock turned to shame. Mom thought she was a bad mother?

If so, I had made her feel that way.

My doorbell rang.

So help me God, if Mitchell Quackenbush was back or if it was someone who wanted to sell me something, I was going to-

My mother stood outside.

Which made no sense.

Hadn t she driven back to Florida?

I opened the door, my heart hammering with alternating beats of hope and fear. Mom, you re here.

Of course I m here. She stepped inside, deftly and gently putting up a foot to prevent Lucky s escape.

How?

I drove back after Carl s funeral and was staying with Rachel. She let me put my car in her garage.

She d been across the cul-de-sac for the past few days? You were with Rachel this whole time?

Yes. I thought you might need me. Well, I was hoping you might need me. But I didn t want to smother you, and I needed you to understand I meant what I said about not using me as a punching bag.

My chest constricted. Even after our argument, Mom had stayed nearby?

Also, your video indicated you had champagne. The tightness in my chest expanded, then loosened. She had seen the video.

I am so, so sorry, I said, running the words together to get them out. I was so very wrong.

Oh, Vivian. She opened her arms, and I flew into them.

I get it now. I was so afraid that Mitch would leave me the way Daddy did that I lost myself in trying to keep him happy. Somewhere deep inside, I thought Daddy left because of you, but he was just . . . Daddy. I was so stupid to think that I should be the opposite of you. You were only trying to teach me how to take care of myself and-

She pulled me out to arm s length and pushed a strand of hair out of my face and behind my ear. Vivian, it doesn t matter.

And then Dylan called and told me I was right just as I discovered how wrong I really was, and I realized something really important.

What s that? she asked patiently.

Right and wrong are pretty darn subjective. We ve both been doing the best we could, and that s motherhood.

There s my girl, she said, pulling me into another one of her patented Chanel No. 5 hugs. Now you get it.

But why couldn t I have gotten it sooner? Shouldn t I be old enough to not have to keep learning these lessons?

Oh, no. That s not how life works. When we stop learning, we die.

I thought about it for a minute. Mom, I just have one question.

What s that?

When can I meet Connie?

She grinned, and the way her eyes sparkled made her the most beautiful I d ever seen her. We ll see. We re not in any hurry.

I m not, either, I said, walking over to the couch to have a seat. I felt a little light on my feet, as though my apology had drained me.

Mom chuckled. I ve heard that before.

I mean it this time. I m going to try to do it right, find the perfect person this time.

There is no perfect man, and I m not a perfect woman.

Because nobody s perfect?

Why do you say that? she asked sharply.

It s okay, BadMother49, I said.

Clever, aren t you.

I don t know about that. I only figured it out right before you rang the doorbell, and there s a problem with your handle.

Oh?

You re not a bad mother. You re the best mother.

She tilted her head to one side, eyebrow up as she stared me down.

You re the best mother for me.

She grabbed my hand and squeezed. That seems a more attainable goal.

Then that s what I ll be looking for: the best person for me. A little voice deep within whispered that I d quite possibly found the best person for me and that he lived next door. I told that part of me to hush, then tuned back into what Mom was saying.

-and who knows? Maybe Connie is my best person, a perfect-for-me person. I sure think so. I hope so.

Well, don t come to me for marriage advice, I said with a snort.

She sank down beside me on the couch, then took both of my cheeks in her warm hands. Baby, you went into your marriage with trust and love, and I hate that someone took that from you. But we have Dylan, and you ve been a great mom to him-

Except for the drunken video.

We re going to let the video go. This is the last day you re going to say you re sorry for that.

It is?

That seemed highly unlikely.

She kissed my forehead and dropped her hands from my face. Probably not, but that s my goal for you: to live your life unapologetically.

I smiled. I like that.

Good. Now let s watch some Jeopardy .

Joy bloomed within me. I had been forgiven.

Mom had never left.

And Rachel, although mad at me, had taken in my mother. She, too, had believed in my ability to come to my senses long before I knew I d walked away from them.

Oh, baby. Don t cry, Mom said.

It s just that I ve made such a mess of things, Mom.

Nothing that can t be fixed, and I think everyone s entitled to do something crazy when their heart s broken.

I nodded and handed her the remote. Mom cued up the show, but before she pressed play, I had one more confession to make.

Mitch came by yesterday.

She froze.

He wanted me to take him back.

And?

I said no.

She sagged back into the couch. I mean, I want you to do whatever it takes for you to be happy, but I don t think Mitch would be on board with your living unapologetically.

No. I reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table and blew my nose. I think he just realized how easy I made things for him. I think that s all he wants.

Maybe.

Lucky jumped up on the couch between us, effectively scooting us to the cushions on the end. She turned in a circle and then lay on her back, belly up.

Shameless, Mom said as she rubbed Lucky s belly and was rewarded with loud purrs.

Mitch says he didn t mean any of those mean things, I said as I scratched between Lucky s ears. But I don t believe him.

Wise, because I m guessing he meant what he said, but . . . -she paused dramatically- I ve always loved your chicken salad.

Thank you!

Granny Smith apples and just a little bit of curry? That s genius.

My chicken salad is ah-mazing.

That it is, she said with a laugh. And so are you.

I hoped my conversations with Abi and Rachel would be this easy, but I was too much of a coward to try them now.

No, you re too busy enjoying your mother s company, I corrected.

The episode of Jeopardy had hardly started when Mom shouted, What is Love Is Like a Butterfly ?

I reached for the remote and hit pause. You know, I was thinking about a butterfly tattoo.

Mom s head jerked in my direction. Slowly she smiled. Well, I know what badge we re going to get next.

After Jeopardy ?

Of course! she said.