Chapter Seven Sometimes You Just Want Your Mom
Chapter Seven
Sometimes You Just Want Your Mom
“I did meet up with Nikki,” I say as soon as my mom’s face pops into view. She told me my dad was at the store, probably buying
more of his beloved brussels sprouts, when I texted and asked for an emergency FaceTime, so it’s just me and my mom on the
call.
Mom’s eyes narrow as she studies my face. “Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Like my swollen eyes don’t already give it away.
“How could it ever be a good thing?” I ask incredulously.
Why my mom doesn’t hate Nikki is beyond me. It was bad enough that she encouraged me to go to the diner in the first place when I asked her opinion—but suggesting that this tearful phone call could imply
anything good is a bridge too far.
“I wish I could give you a hug right now, sweetie. Do you want to tell me what happened today? Did you at least have a nice
talk?” She gives me a little frown that’s somehow both patronizing and empathetic. It just makes me feel worse.
“We barely talked. I think she just wants me to read and sign off on everything she wrote about us so she doesn’t have to feel guilty.”
“Maybe you should,” Mom says. “All of my papers are peer reviewed. It’s not that different, if you really think about it.”
“Yes, it is!” I groan. “Unless your peer reviewers are the loves of your life and you have to sit next to them while they
do it—but I feel like Dad would have mentioned something about that if that were the case.”
“You’re so dramatic.” She laughs. “But it’s a fair point.”
“I need her to leave,” I say. “Can you just come here and make her leave?”
“I’m sorry, but I have a class to teach tomorrow,” she says with a little wink. “Besides, maybe you should talk to her more. It wouldn’t be the worst thing if—”
My eyes go wide at her words. “You do remember what she did to me, right? She treated me like shit! She constantly made me
look like a fool. She used me. Hell, she destroyed me! How are you still Team Nikki?”
“I’m Team Anderson, always, but she didn’t ‘destroy’ you,” my mom argues. “Breakups are hard on everyone at first, and you’re
doing quite well now. Please give yourself some credit. Go on, say it.”
“Whatever.” I pout, not loving my mom’s super-logical brain. “Fine, Mom, I’m doing just great . . . or at least I was before
Nikki got here. Happy now?”
“Yes, actually.” My mother smiles and I sigh.
“Can we at least agree that she is slightly evil? If not for destroying my career, then for rewriting our entire history in this ridiculous memoir? She showed me a chapter today about how she was the one who didn’t have the part when we did the chemistry read! Her! Not me! Can you believe that?”
“I don’t know that she did have the part,” Mom says, looking bewildered. “I think your aunt just told you that to raise the
stakes. I don’t remember it coming from the studio. In fact, I think they were more settled on you at the time than they were
her.”
“What?! Why would Aunt Judy need to raise the stakes any higher? They were already raised when you said you would bring me
back home if I didn’t get the part.”
“Only because I couldn’t afford to keep flying out, not because I didn’t believe in you!” my mom says, looking scandalized.
“You were so homesick! I was coming out two or three times a month just to console you. I didn’t even think you wanted to be there anymore by that point. Every time you booked a commercial or catalog shoot you complained about the long days
and too-bright lights. I honestly thought you would have been relieved to come home.”
“That’s not true. I might not have liked doing catalogs, but I loved filming The Nikki and Andy Show—well, at least until the last season or two.”
My mom raises an eyebrow. “That’s because you loved Nikki.”
“I wasn’t there just for Nikki . . . or Aunt Judy, for that matter. What are you talking about? I was in love with acting
back then!”
“I’m not trying to upset you even more,” Mom says, frowning.
“I’m just pointing out that you never wanted to tell me about your great day filming, it was always about a great day with Nikki or about what new things you had learned from the floriculture books we sent you all the time. The show took up most of your
day, but it almost felt like an afterthought when you called home.”
“That’s because I was being taken advantage of and didn’t want to think about it once I got off set. Not to mention the fact
that my agent was actively stealing from me at the time, and I was being subpoenaed! My life was chaos and when I called you,
I wanted normalcy.”
“That was probably true at the end, but I’m talking about the whole time. If you really want to skip to the last couple years,
it never seemed to me like you were jealous of Nikki’s opportunities so much as you were hurt that she wasn’t giving you the
attention you needed.”
“Oh, so what? I’m like this horrible, possessive person now or something? You’re on her side?”
“Absolutely not!” my mom says, her voice rising a few octaves. “I’m on your side, Anderson, and I love you very, very much.
I just want to make sure you’re not putting on some rose-colored glasses about your time out there and what it meant to you.”
“Why are you acting like she didn’t hurt me?!” I ask, a quiver in my voice.
“I’m not. I’m sorry if that’s how it’s coming off,” she says, looking genuinely upset at my tears.
“Maybe I’m not expressing myself clearly.
You’re the communicator in the family; I’m the one with her nose in a microscope and no social skills.
” She pauses. “I wish I could give you a hug now, Andy Bug. I’m not in any way trying to minimize your feelings.
I was simply encouraging you to examine your true feelings beneath the hurt and not get them all twisted up with some Hollywood fantasy.
I don’t know if you would have been happy even if it had worked out with that last role.
I guarantee that I’ve seen you smile more since your life was ‘destroyed’ than I did for years when you were still out in LA. That means something, honey.”
I huff out a tearful laugh and wipe at my eyes. “Are you sure you haven’t been talking to Nikki?”
“No. Not since you asked me to stop picking up her calls a couple years ago. Why?”
“She said something similar today about me smiling. That it’d been a really long time or something.” I blow out a huge breath,
trying to ground myself. “It was hard seeing her today.”
“I know, sweetheart, but . . .” Mom trails off, looking away.
“But what?” I ask, soft and resigned, bracing myself for whatever truth bomb my literal, logical, loving mom wants to throw
at me next. Because they have been truth bombs, haven’t they? I wasn’t happy out there. Or maybe I was sometimes, but I wasn’t
peaceful. I wasn’t content like I am now.
I was antsy and stressed and unfulfilled—and now my mom’s got me wondering how much of that was Nikki’s fault . . . and how
much I just blamed on her to avoid what was really going on.
“I don’t want to upset you more, honey. It’s nothing.”
“No, I want to hear it. I probably need to hear it, whatever it is. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
Maybe I could use a little bit of mom-logic right now.
“Does that mean you’re not upset with me?” she asks, looking very apologetic. “I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m not on your side, Andy Bug. I’m not pushing you to do something you don’t want to. I wouldn’t want anyone to do that to me, and I don’t want to do that to you either.”
“We’re good, I promise, but thanks for saying that,” I reply. “Now, what were you going to tell me before you cut yourself
off?”
“All right . . . if you’re sure.” She smiles. “I think, maybe, and again, I’m not trying to meddle or force you into anything,
but maybe it could be good for you to hear more about her side of things. If for nothing else than closure. You left very abruptly—which
I don’t blame you for, at all. It was a solid choice. The most rational choice, actually.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming again?” I groan but then flash another quick smile so she knows I’m not really
upset. My mom has never been very emotional, but she’s always been good at advice.
“But,” she says with a wink, “you’re both older now and hopefully wiser. You and Nikki share a lot of history, good and bad. It
might benefit you both to have a chance to let go of the past and to finally say goodbye.”
My breath hitches. Closure. Final goodbyes. Letting go of the past. They’re good things. They are.
So why do I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe?
“Now, that’s enough seriousness for one call. Don’t you think?” Mom says, waving her hand like she’s swatting away all of
the complicated, hard feelings I’m having. “Do you want to see the new orchid your dad put in the hothouse? Maybe it’ll inspire
one of your future bouquets.”
I know exactly what my mother is doing right now. She’s carefully pulling me back to shore the way she did every time I called her crying from LA. Giving me something happy to think about. Hugging me the best way she can when we’re separated by so many hours.
“Yeah, Mom.” I smile, my voice wavering. “Absolutely.”