Chapter Seven
The unintended consequences of revealing Vic’s story, his wrongdoings, are not just that Vic Roth is now in prison.
Nor are they just that Callum Blake has been publicly castigated for not telling the truth sooner, even though he has given interviews saying he doesn’t remember that night, doesn’t remember making the tape, he was so off his face.
The true unintended consequence is the newfound trust between Astrid and Zara. A newfound relationship. The kind of relationship that starts slow, each testing the other, but is slowly growing into something that looks like a mother-daughter relationship should.
Astrid has her daughter back, and finally, finally, has been able to face the kind of mother she was when her daughter was young, and finally, finally, has been able to release the guilt and shame of that.
It started late one night, after she and Zara had been sitting at Zara’s kitchen table, both of them with laptops open as Zara typed the story from the tape transcripts, asking her mother to help fill in the blanks.
As they grew more and more comfortable together, Astrid started to tell Zara about what it was like before it all went wrong, and finally, what it was like afterward.
She talked about the early days, the tours.
The hanging out with Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones.
The crazy parties. The freedom, the experimentation.
She talked about Lily’s death, but after that, she talked about Zara.
How much she had loved being a mother, how Zara was everything she had ever dreamed of.
But she was in so much pain, losing Callum, knowing he was betraying her, ignoring her, scattering the odd breadcrumb, telling her he loved her, which kept her hanging on, hoping against hope her loving husband of old would return.
When he didn’t, she drank the pain away.
Too selfish, in too much pain, she awoke every morning swearing she wouldn’t do it again, promising herself she would stop, would be present for Zara. Until the vodka started calling.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, when she had finished. “I loved you so much, but I didn’t know how to handle my life. I wish I had done things differently. I wish we were closer. I dream of having a daughter who’s a best friend, but I don’t know that we’ll ever get there, will we.”
Zara, so wise, took her mother’s hand. “I had friends who described their mothers as their best friends, and I wanted that so badly. But Mum, you gave me other things. You were young, and in pain. I understand now why everything changed, why you both disappeared. And as weird as it may sound, I also know that not having you around gave me my remarkable independence and self-sufficiency. I would never have the career I have had without the childhood I had. And I am happy. Look at us, together, putting together this exposé. I’ve loved doing this. ”
Astrid nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ve really loved doing this as well.”