Chapter 4 Lisa #2
She nodded. “I’ll see if I can get her to come up to the room with me for a talk. You two could maybe go to the coffee shop?”
The men agreed, and Lisa started across the lobby on leaden legs. By the time she reached Mom, she was already regretting the decision. Her mother, upon seeing her, crossed her arms over her chest and turned the other direction.
“Mom?” Lisa tugged at the sleeve of her coat. “Can we talk?”
“My car will be here any minute.”
“We can send it back,” Lisa said, shivering in the cold without a jacket. “Please, just come up to the room with me. We can order you something to eat.”
The valet pulled up in her parents’ rental car. Mom hesitated, but then stepped toward the car. “I should go if I’m going to catch the next flight out of Denver.”
Lisa placed her hand around Mom’s wrist. “No. You’re not going. I need you to stay. I want you at my wedding. Mom, please. I don’t want to do this without you here.”
Pale blue eyes flashed with anger as Mom whipped her head around. “All you’ve ever wanted was to be rid of me.”
“That’s not true. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to approve of me…to love me like you love David.”
“That’s what you think? I didn’t love you?”
Lisa became aware that people were watching them. She moved her gaze from her mother’s face to a group of young women huddled together under the awning. One of them had her phone raised. Filming them. Lisa cursed silently. It would be all over the internet in a matter of minutes.
“Mom, please,” she said under her breath. “People are watching. Filming us.”
Mom seemed to snap out of her rage. “What?”
“Under the awning.”
Mom’s gaze rotated to the women. Before Lisa knew what was happening, she’d marched over to them.
Lisa watched in a mixture of horror and delight as her mother snatched the phone from the girl’s hand.
“Are you filming us, young lady?” This was said in the all-too-familiar schoolteacher voice that sounded as if Cruella de Vil and Darth Vader had a child.
“I-I wasn’t.” The girl’s expression had turned from curious to terrified.
“I do believe you’re lying.” Mom held the phone up to the girl’s face before turning it over and punching the glass. “We’ll just hit delete now, shall we? Or would you rather have me smash this to bits?”
“No, please, just delete. I’m sorry.” The girl’s face had drained of color, and she had gripped the arm of her friend as if she might pass out from fright.
“Do you understand that just because my daughter is a movie star doesn’t give you the right to violate her privacy? Did you know this is a criminal act? I could have you arrested.”
“I’ll never do it again.”
“See that you don’t.” Mom did a full circle, scanning the other hotel guests who were also waiting for cars. No one was watching them now. In fact, they were all suddenly busy observing something fascinating on the tips of their boots.
“Mom, we should go,” Lisa said.
Mom handed the phone back to the girl. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today, or you’d suddenly find yourself without your phone.”
Lisa pulled her mother away and almost pushed her through the glass doors to the lobby. “Let’s go up to my room.”
Her mother didn’t agree verbally, but she followed Lisa to the elevator. Relief flooded her when they were alone in the elevator. They took it to the top floor in silence. When the doors opened, Mom asked about Rafael. “Is he in the room?”
“No, he’s out with the guys,” Lisa said. “Something about scotch and cigars.”
“For heaven’s sake. Why do men always like the smelliest hobbies they can find?”
Lisa chuckled as she used the key card to open the door. “Come in, Mom.” She stepped inside and held the door open for her mother to pass through.
“Nice room,” Mom said.
She and Rafael were in one of the suites. The sitting area was decorated in a rustic, ski chalet style with a gas fireplace, a cozy love seat, and a few generously stuffed chairs.
“Would you like to sit? I can order some room service,” Lisa said.
“I’m not hungry.”
Lisa glanced at her watch. It was almost ten. The rehearsal dinner started at six. She looked toward the bedroom and wished she could go back to bed. Instead of feeling excited and energized for the festivities, she felt exhausted. Her mother’s presence did that to a girl.
“I’m hungry. I didn’t have anything this morning but a latte. We can share some eggs and toast,” Lisa said.
“That’s fine.”
Lisa punched the button for room service and ordered the standard breakfast. At the last minute, she added a pot of tea. Mama Soto always said anything could be solved over a warm beverage.
Mom had plopped onto the couch and pulled out her latest knitting project from her bag. Lisa sat across from her. How was this supposed to go exactly? What was she supposed to say, other than what she’d already said downstairs?
Her mother clicked away with her knitting needles as though she wanted to punish the yarn.
“Would you like to see my dress?” Lisa asked.
“I would’ve liked to see you trying it on in the first place. It’s a little late now.”
“I’m sorry about that. My stylist sent over a dozen for me to choose from.
She knows my taste, and we picked from there.
I had them altered in Cliffside Bay, simply because it was easiest.” She hadn’t done it the old-fashioned way as she’d imagined she would.
Not that her mother was in that scenario, either.
She’d always thought Pepper and Maggie would take her shopping for the dress.
They would spend the day together, trying on gowns and drinking champagne.
Instead, they got one fitting together. When they still lived in Manhattan, there were several shops they had always stopped at to peer at the dresses through the window.
That was before everything changed. These days, she couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing her.
Like today, she couldn’t trust that someone wouldn’t whip out a camera phone and record her private moments.
Finding a wedding dress seemed impossible in that scenario.
Going with her mother? She cringed just thinking about it. Mom’s cruel words came back to her, and anger took the place of pity or guilt. “Mom, those things you said downstairs… I cannot let you do that to me anymore. I deserve better from you.”
“Better than what? Telling you the truth? Men use us up and spit us out.”
That wasn’t how her parents’ marriage had gone. Would her mother ever see her part in it? How she’d driven her father away? She wouldn’t go there. Not today. Probably not ever.
“I’m sorry about Dad.”
“Which part? That I gave him my best years only to be dumped when I’m old and useless to anyone?”
“You’re hardly useless. You were pretty badass just now.”
Mom’s knitting needles stopped clicking for a split second. “I honed that skill from thirty years in the middle school classroom. That’s nothing.”
“It’s my life now. Constant scrutiny. Cell phone cameras at every turn.”
The knitting needles were back at it, pummeling each other. “You were the one who wanted this. Boo-hoo. You’re rich and famous. Let’s cry about it.”
“Mom, that’s not fair.”
“Correct. Life’s not fair.”
“You’re not fair. Not when it comes to me, anyway.” Lisa couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was too tired to pretend.
“What exactly was I supposed to do differently? You were weak like your father. It was my job to make you tougher.”
Lisa stayed quiet. There would be no winning this argument. Her mother would not see it in the same way Lisa did. She would not see that her favoritism of David was a wound too deep to heal. Especially since Mom would never admit it was even true.
“Did you know I almost studied art in France? I had a scholarship for a program in Paris,” Mom said.
“What? No, I never knew that. When?”
“It was supposed to be my third year of college. But I became pregnant with you and your brother. Instead of Paris, I married your dad. I changed my major from art to education.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Your father was an education major. My mother sat me down and told me to get my head out of the clouds. Marrying a teacher meant I’d need to work too, unless we wanted to starve.”
“I always thought you loved teaching.” Mom had taught life sciences, including culinary arts and fashion.
“Lisa, I didn’t have a choice.” She spoke slowly, as if Lisa were too stupid to follow the conversation. “It was either embrace teaching obnoxious preteens how to make chocolate chip cookies or live in poverty the rest of my life.”
“What was your medium?”
“I dabbled in painting and sculpture, but I wanted to run a gallery. I had my whole life planned out.”
“And then we came and ruined it all?” Lisa asked, already knowing the answer.
“Your father was just a guy I liked. One night we got carried away. It’s as simple as that.”
And as complicated.
“I would never have married him if I hadn’t been pregnant,” Mom said. “He was never the one I wanted. No ambition. So meek and mild-mannered. I had to push him every step of the way or he’d never have become a high school principal.”
Then why are you so devastated that he wants a divorce?
“I did everything right. And look how it’s all turned out.” Mom’s needles clicked away.
“David said the same thing to me after Marigold died.”
“Did he?” Mom asked.
“Yes. Almost exactly.” David had stuck to his promise to marry Marigold even though he loved someone else.
“And you, dear daughter, haven’t done anything right. Not one single thing. And look how wonderful everything’s turned out for you.”
Lisa blinked. She fiddled with the collar of her sweater. Was it possible her mother was jealous of her life? Before the film and television success had come, Mom had always acted as if Lisa’s dreams were impossible to achieve. She’d belittled them or acted patronizing.