“My publicist and I are trying to shop around a story line for the Housewives. There needs to be interest in me.” She takes a dainty sip of her mimosa. “With all of the public interest you’ve created for yourself, us being together looks even better for me.”
Because why else would my mom want to spend time with her daughter?
“No. We’re not doing this again.” Like my mom, I also ordered a mimosa. And like I told Lauren I would, I ordered the one that had champagne and vodka. But unlike my mom, I don’t take a sip, I gulp that bitch.
I don’t even care who judges me. If anyone was forced to sit and be photographed with the ghost of their mom, they’d need liquid courage too.
“It’s not just for me, think of how wonderful it will be for you.” She keeps going, like no is a word she’s never heard before and she hasn’t even the slightest inkling what it could mean. But really, I just know that her publicist gave her a speech to convince me, and my mom is nothing if not a dedicated actress. “The producers loved it when you were on the show. They want to surprise the viewers by bringing back a former castmate.”
“You know how I feel about that. I don’t want to be on a reality show.”
“You already live your life in front of a camera, what’s one more? Plus, I really need this, Ju-ju.” She takes off her sunglasses as she says the nickname I used to love so much. The champagne bubbles change to rocks and settle in my gut. The familiarity of this conversation causes dread to wrap its claws around my throat. “All I want is some semblance of normalcy again. I want to be able to treat you to brunch and for you to want to spend time with me again. I know I’ve been different since your dad died, but I need you to stick by my side. I can’t do this if I’m alone. And if I get this show, I know things will get better, our relationship will get back to what it used to be.”
What it used to be . . . before Dad died. It’s been three years, but most days it feels like yesterday and also a century ago.
He had a stroke. Apparently his blood pressure had been out of control. They call it the silent killer. And silent it was.
Silent he was.
Silent about being sick. Silent about my mom spiraling out of control. Silent about refinancing my childhood home to keep up with her spending.
At first, after he died, I knew my mom was going to be different. Her best friend, the love of her life, died. Of course that shit was going to affect her. But then, it kept getting worse. There’d be a little ray of sunshine, a glimmer of hope that she’d return to be the mom I grew up with, but then it would vanish before I even got the chance to enjoy it.
I don’t think she’ll change anymore.
But I also don’t say no to her anymore either.
The first time I gathered up the strength to say no—after about ten sessions with my therapist—she hung up on me and sent me a text message claiming I was no longer her daughter.
The second time, she called to tell me about the pills she’d taken and to say goodbye.
There hasn’t been a third, and it doesn’t look like there will be anytime soon.
“Fine.” Heavy resignation settles over me. I’m her daughter, this responsibility—burden—is mine to carry. “I’ll do it.”
Her lips curl into the first genuine smile I’ve seen from her in months, and like a traitor, hope begins to bloom inside of me.
“I knew you wouldn’t give up on me.” She taps her champagne glass against mine. “This is it, I know it is. Everything will be back to normal.”
I don’t say that things will never be back to normal, that Dad is never coming back. Because that feels like something a child would say. And even though I am her child, I stopped getting to act like one around her in the funeral home when she had a meltdown and I was forced to make all of the arrangements on my own.
“What do I need to do?”
“That’s the best part of this plan, you don’t need to do anything. Jonathon found a few new sponsors for you. All you have to do is keep up with the content you’re already posting, but have more with us together.” She’s talking like this is no big deal, but I was agreeing to this hoping to get her off my back, not being forced to spend more time with her. “They want us to be the mother-daughter pair that everyone wants to be. Wholesome and relatable . . . yet with an air of unattainability.”
This makes literally no sense. Thankfully, as I drain the last bits of my mimosa, the waitress walks by and nods when I point to my empty glass. “Only a splash of orange juice this time.”
“Splash of OJ, you got it.” She smiles as she grabs my glass from the table and heads back inside.
That’s what I call sisterhood and true allyship.
“Relatable and unattainable, got it.” It makes even less sense when I say it, but it’s easiest to just nod my head and agree when it comes to Mom.
“Exactly.” Her frozen forehead struggles to show her excitement, but the gleam in her eyes says it all. “Angelica’s daughters are already portrayed on the show as party girls, it’s really important we’re the opposite of that. They need the contrast.”
Angelica Sanders is a full-blown movie star. She is married to one of the top producers in the industry and is one of the original cast members on the show. For some reason, my mom thinks she’s competition . . . which is ridiculous on so many levels that I can’t even count that high. I’ll never understand why women make it hard for other women. I feel like Addy would have the perfect thing to say in this situation. I’ll grab those frosted animal cookies with sprinkles on them on my way home and talk it out with her later.
“I’m living with a five-year-old.” I shove a bite of my chicken sandwich—no bun—into my mouth. “It’s not like I’m going to be throwing ragers anytime soon.”
“I’ll tell Jonathon you’re on board and he’ll set up the meetings with your new sponsors.” She puts her sunglasses back on and reaches across the table to hold my hand. “I know you’ve had a hard time since Dad died and I’ve been difficult to deal with. These sponsors will help us both financially; I at least owe you that much. This is me trying. I hope you see that.”
I guess this is just another character to play. I always wanted to be an actress. Say what you want about soap operas, but I grew up around them. The talent of the writers and the actors and really everyone involved was just beyond. The amount of content they produce and deliver is amazing. Reading scripts with my mom, watching her when I’d have a day off school and got to go to work with her are still some of my favorite childhood memories. It was how I grew to love the craft of acting. So when I went to college, I didn’t choose to be a premed student like my brilliant best friend, I chose theater. And I was good. Great, even. I started to audition for theater productions, and the directors were loving me. I could taste my dreams, they were so close.