Ex and the Single Girl by Lani Diane Rich Page A
Authors: Lani Diane Rich
me last night,” I said, getting up off the bed, trying to minimize my vulnerability to a pissed-off Bev. I had three full inches on her, and I still felt like I was about to get my butt tanned.
“ Maybe you should have stayed around like a grown-up, instead of throwing a tantrum like a spoiled little girl.” Her voice was sharp. She may have raised two ditzy bro ads, but Bev was no one to be trifled with. I took my tone down a notch when I answered her.
“ She should have told me.”
“ Told you what?”
“ That she found Jack. That he ’ s coming to visit.”
Bev narrowed her eyes at me. Instinctively, I straightened my posture.
“ And why does she owe you an explanation for that?”
I stared at her. “ Are you kidding me? He ’ s my father.”
“ Did it ever occur to you that maybe this has nothing to do with you?”
“ Nothing to do with me?” I flapped my arms in lame confusion. “ Then why am I here? Why ’ d she fake a bad back to get me down here? Sol could sleep with an Englishman? What the hell is going on, Bev?”
“ Let me tell you something, Portia,” she said, her voice low and serious. “ Your mother loves you. She has always loved you, and she h as raised you well. Right now she ’ s doing something she needs to do for her own reasons, and it ’ s time you stopped being her little girl and started being her friend.”
“ I ’ ve always been her friend,” I said, anger rising in my throat, can of whoop-ass be da mned. “ Maybe it ’ s time she started being my mother.”
Whoosh. The air left the room. Bev and I stared each other down and for the first time since the beginning of time, Bev looked away first. A moment later she was gone, slamming the door behind her. I sto od in the room alone, wondering what the hell had just happened.
“ You ’ re right,” Mags said, staring down at her fingers, which were clasped on the edge of the kitchen table. Vera and Bev sat on either side of her, and me opposite. “ I should have told you.” I looked at Vera. She had been the one to let it slip, knowing full well it would get back to me, and while I wasn ’ t going to give her up, her reaction was a point of interest. Her face was blank, staring at an invisible focal point over Bev ’ s left shoul d er. Bev, on the other hand, leaned forward and put one hand on Mags ’ s arm, drawing a clear line on the battlefield.
“ So tell me now,” I said. “ What ’ s going on?”
Mags sighed, gave Bev a helpless look. Bev shook her head. “ I can ’ t tell you yet,” Mags said fi nally, her voice so timid I almost didn ’ t recognize it.
“ Why the hell not?” I said, half in fear, half in anger. There ’ d never been a secret among the Mizzes. This was new territory.
“ I just need you to trust me,” she said. “ I ’ m sorry; I just need that.”
“ When were you planning on telling me he was coming? When I came home and saw him drinking lemonade on the front porch?” Eyes darted back and forth. I stared at them defiantly. “ What?”
Mags looked up at me. “ We ’ ve been talking about September.”
I thought of August 22, circled and starred on my wall calendar. I felt a coldness swivel down my back and I swallowed, working up the nerve to ask my next question. “ Was that his idea or yours?”
Mags was silent. I sat back, feeling my chest close in.
“ Are you ever go ing to tell me what the hell is going on here?” Mags looked up at me, her face pained. “ I can ’ t. Not yet.” Bev ’ s eyes worked on mine, telling me not to make a big deal out of this. Telling me to grow up and be a buddy. I looked away.
“ Fine,” I said, my voi ce tight as I pushed up from the table. “ I ’ ll go get my things.”
Mags shot up. “ You ’ re not going back to Syracuse, are you?”
“ No,” I said. “ I can ’ t go back to Syracuse. My apartment is rented. But I ’ m not g oing to live here waiting for you to spring the next surprise on me. I ’
“ Maybe you should have stayed around like a grown-up, instead of throwing a tantrum like a spoiled little girl.” Her voice was sharp. She may have raised two ditzy bro ads, but Bev was no one to be trifled with. I took my tone down a notch when I answered her.
“ She should have told me.”
“ Told you what?”
“ That she found Jack. That he ’ s coming to visit.”
Bev narrowed her eyes at me. Instinctively, I straightened my posture.
“ And why does she owe you an explanation for that?”
I stared at her. “ Are you kidding me? He ’ s my father.”
“ Did it ever occur to you that maybe this has nothing to do with you?”
“ Nothing to do with me?” I flapped my arms in lame confusion. “ Then why am I here? Why ’ d she fake a bad back to get me down here? Sol could sleep with an Englishman? What the hell is going on, Bev?”
“ Let me tell you something, Portia,” she said, her voice low and serious. “ Your mother loves you. She has always loved you, and she h as raised you well. Right now she ’ s doing something she needs to do for her own reasons, and it ’ s time you stopped being her little girl and started being her friend.”
“ I ’ ve always been her friend,” I said, anger rising in my throat, can of whoop-ass be da mned. “ Maybe it ’ s time she started being my mother.”
Whoosh. The air left the room. Bev and I stared each other down and for the first time since the beginning of time, Bev looked away first. A moment later she was gone, slamming the door behind her. I sto od in the room alone, wondering what the hell had just happened.
“ You ’ re right,” Mags said, staring down at her fingers, which were clasped on the edge of the kitchen table. Vera and Bev sat on either side of her, and me opposite. “ I should have told you.” I looked at Vera. She had been the one to let it slip, knowing full well it would get back to me, and while I wasn ’ t going to give her up, her reaction was a point of interest. Her face was blank, staring at an invisible focal point over Bev ’ s left shoul d er. Bev, on the other hand, leaned forward and put one hand on Mags ’ s arm, drawing a clear line on the battlefield.
“ So tell me now,” I said. “ What ’ s going on?”
Mags sighed, gave Bev a helpless look. Bev shook her head. “ I can ’ t tell you yet,” Mags said fi nally, her voice so timid I almost didn ’ t recognize it.
“ Why the hell not?” I said, half in fear, half in anger. There ’ d never been a secret among the Mizzes. This was new territory.
“ I just need you to trust me,” she said. “ I ’ m sorry; I just need that.”
“ When were you planning on telling me he was coming? When I came home and saw him drinking lemonade on the front porch?” Eyes darted back and forth. I stared at them defiantly. “ What?”
Mags looked up at me. “ We ’ ve been talking about September.”
I thought of August 22, circled and starred on my wall calendar. I felt a coldness swivel down my back and I swallowed, working up the nerve to ask my next question. “ Was that his idea or yours?”
Mags was silent. I sat back, feeling my chest close in.
“ Are you ever go ing to tell me what the hell is going on here?” Mags looked up at me, her face pained. “ I can ’ t. Not yet.” Bev ’ s eyes worked on mine, telling me not to make a big deal out of this. Telling me to grow up and be a buddy. I looked away.
“ Fine,” I said, my voi ce tight as I pushed up from the table. “ I ’ ll go get my things.”
Mags shot up. “ You ’ re not going back to Syracuse, are you?”
“ No,” I said. “ I can ’ t go back to Syracuse. My apartment is rented. But I ’ m not g oing to live here waiting for you to spring the next surprise on me. I ’