I hear his Land Rover start up. The next day he comes back drunk. And the day after, and the day after that, and every night after until Paul is forced to drag him away from my door.
Mila
PRESENT
Three weeks after I leave Lucas, I get another rap on my door, but I know with certainty it’s not my husband. He’s been silent the past week, aside from a daily ‘I love you’ text. Other than that, he’s been giving me the space I asked for.
“You don’t know what I had to do.”
Blake was a victim of the casting couch, that much is obvious. And he was right in one respect, I don’t need to know the details. Those were the secrets he died to hide.
A part of me hopes Lucas does come clean to Amanda, but it’s not my call. And maybe that’s some of what Lucas is still working through. But until he’s transparent with me, until he shows me his battle, we have nowhere to go. Even after six years of marriage, it baffles me how much he hides, how unaware I am of what goes on inside that brilliant mind of his.
Opening my door, I see my mother standing there and hang my head as she pushes past me and steps inside.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Because when you didn’t bother to text me back, I called your husband insisting he let me speak with you and do you know what he did?”
I shrug.
“He told me you didn’t live there anymore and hung up on me!”
Laughter bubbles out of me as her eyes narrow. “Sorry, Mom. No one is safe lately.”
“Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on? You haven’t returned my calls since he chased me out of your house.” She follows me into the living room, looking around before scrutinizing me.
“You moved back in?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“As it turns out we don’t have a perfect marriage. Satisfied?”
“Absolutely not and you look terrible.”
“It’s been a hard couple of weeks.”
She waves her hand in the air. “You’ll get through it.”
“Says the woman who just admittedly fled from my house due to his wrath. So easy for you to say twice removed,” I snap. “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” I palm my hips, “and before you start with the ‘I told you so’ about marrying an actor, don’t. Or you can leave.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” she says evenly. “I raised you better.”
“I’m not myself lately, not many of us are.”
“I can see that,” she says, tossing her purse on the couch. “I’m going to make us some tea, and you’re going to talk to me.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Do you think the only reason I didn’t want you marrying an actor was because I worked for the press? Silly girl.” She walks toward the kitchen, leaving me temporarily stunned before I follow her.
“Oh, I don’t believe this. Who? Who did you date?”
She pauses. I read her right.
“Oh my God,” I say, covering my mouth. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
She pushes up her sleeves before flipping the water on and filling up the kettle. Once she has the bags waiting in the cups, she turns to me and rests her back to the counter.
“Mom!?” I snap impatiently as she stares at me.
“It’s not important who.”
“The hell it’s not, stop stalling.”
“Mel Gibson and you’re his love child.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“Kidding.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I scold, before we both burst into laughter, mine reluctant.
“His name was Eric Byrne. Irish. Very, very good-looking, a tiger in the sack. He was all the rage for about ten minutes in the eighties, and I was madly in love with him. Well, I thought I was. This was before I met your father.”
“You are such a hypocrite,” I say, pointing the finger. “All this time, you made it seem like actors were the worst people when you had sex in the Kool-Aid!”
“I just didn’t want you falling in love in a way that could torment you. And look at you.” She raises a brow. “It’s not fun.”
“Point taken. Still, Lucas is not Eric Byrne. The way you treated him was unforgivable.”
She hangs her head. “I know. And for the record, that was the worst fight your father and I have ever had. He didn’t speak to me for almost a month.”
“Good. Tell me what happened with the actor.”
“He swept me off my feet. But those sayings about an Irish temper? Well, let’s just say I can testify to them.”