“Don’t ruin this,” he said curtly. “Finish your wine and go home. Be safe and dream big. Always. Do it for me. Do it for you. Just do it.”
He turned and finished his Scotch, then tugged a black Amex card out of his wallet and tossed it on the bar.
Apparently, the conversation was over before it started, and I found myself furious. This was my escape. My turn to be in charge. How dare he shut down the conversation just like that?
Fuming, I stood, yanked my purse strap over my shoulder, and turned to go without a word.
It was only when I got to my car that the tears came. I took my time going home to be sure they were good and gone before I walked into my reality—the opposite of anything Dream Big.
Margaret
The house was quiet when I got home that night after the meeting. Padding down the hall, allowing my fuming mood to cool, I decided it was for the best. Mick didn’t need to be saddled with my broken life. He already put broken businesses back together.
Seeing the light on underneath Priscilla’s door, I decided to put my own life together.
“Hi,” I said, peeking inside Priscilla’s lavender-painted room, boy-band posters lining the wall opposite the bed, and a poster of the Eiffel Tower above her.
I’d always thought staying with Tommy was more important than my mental and physical health. If I left him, we’d probably have to move, and Priscilla would have to sacrifice this room, this bright and airy space. But maybe not. Maybe Priscilla would be happier where she could have friends come over.
Tucked into bed with a book, Priscilla looked up. “Hey, how was the meeting? Boring?”
I laughed a little. I couldn’t admit to her that I couldn’t recall a second of the meeting, and I certainly couldn’t tell her what I was really up to. Despite the way the evening ended, I had fun.
“It was actually nice. Good to see people and be a part of something,” I said, trying to describe how I was really feeling as close as I could.
“Oh,” she said with a grin. “That’s good.”
“How was the movie? What are you up to now?” I asked, taking in her rosy cheeks and braided hair.
“It was great. No vampires. Reading something for school,” she said, responding in typical teen fragments. Then frowning, she looked away. “Mom . . .”
“Yes?” I motioned toward the edge of the bed, asking with my eyes if I could sit.
“I had to go into your room. Dad wasn’t home, so I thought it would be okay. I know he doesn’t like me to snoop.”
“Oh, what happened, sweetie?”
“Nothing, really.” She sat her book down next to her. “I got my period.”
My heart nearly exploded. My daughter got her first period, and I was out flirting with a strange man? If I could call myself a heartless bitch, I would.
“Mom, seriously, it’s okay. I know all about them. It’s all Melody Roberts talks about, and we had a class at school.”
“Oh. But did you know how to—”
“Yes. Melody actually demonstrated to all of us.”
I couldn’t help my nose scrunching up. I felt it wrinkle, and immediately tried to school it.
“Not like that.” Priscilla sat up straight. “She used her hand in a weird way.”
“Gotcha,” I said, stroking her blanket-covered leg. “We used to teach each other how to take our bra off without taking our shirt off. Things have come a long way.”
Priscilla laughed. “Anyway, if you saw anything out of place, I was under your sink taking some tampons, but I’ll need some of my own.”
A chill ran down my spine, all the way to my ankles. “Sweetie, I don’t get upset over messes. It doesn’t matter to me.” I hesitated to say what I was thinking, but then let it fly. “I’m not Dad.”
“I know,” she said, her jaw firm.
“I’ll stop tomorrow and pick up some supplies for your bathroom. Do you have any questions for me? Do you want me to go over how to use the tampon again?”
She shook her head. “I know how. I’m a woman, like you always told me when we went to the bathroom together when I was little. I’d ask what you were doing, and you’d say when I was a woman, I’d know. Also, like I said, we have class at school with Mrs. Roth.”
I smiled, but my chest burned with a healthy dose of love and admiration for this human being I helped to create and mold.
She is a golden cloud among all the dark ones in the sky.
“Mom, don’t cry.” Priscilla leaned forward and hugged me.
I hadn’t even realized I was tearing up.
“Okay, baby, okay,” I murmured into her beautiful head of curls, silently promising to put myself back together for her.
“Love you,” she said, and I knew I was being dismissed.
“Love you more,” I whispered back into her hair.
Shutting her door softly, I floated toward my room, knowing Tommy wasn’t home yet. I couldn’t even pretend to be upset he wasn’t here for the period moment. It certainly wasn’t something he would understand or be compassionate about.
Heading to the bathroom, I checked for any messes Priscilla might have left. Of course, nothing was out of place except for our combined mental status.
My daughter shouldn’t be afraid to grab a tampon in her own home, I thought as I stepped into the shower. Scrubbing off the day and the bad residue Mick left on my mood, I made a firm decision for the sake of my daughter.
I needed to see what was out there other than my Tommy-ruled world.
“Hi, Sheila, it’s Margaret,” I said to her when she picked up the phone much later the following day.
“Hi, Margaret, everything okay? Penny mentioned something this morning about the girls planning another sleepover this coming weekend. I’m happy to host, as usual.”
Running my hand through my loose hair, I leaned back, allowing the sun to hit my face. I’d been sitting in the yard, making some notes for an upcoming piece.
“No, nothing like that. Although, I’m happy to host. In fact, Tommy is going to Miami on Saturday for a lawyers’ convention, but that’s not why I’m calling. I spoke to my editor this morning, and the magazine is happy to be a partner for the gala. In fact, they want to send magazines for all the attendees, in addition to making a donation.”
“Really? That’s fabulous,” Sheila said, and I could practically hear her brain working over the line. “Magazines, hmm. We could do an awards-style grab bag with a few items. I wonder if you would like to secure some items? Off the top of my head, things like candles, cupcakes, maybe a little throw pillow . . . you know, like they give at the Grammys. This is simply perfect with the theme being Hollywood Holidays.”
She asked how much the magazine was donating, and when I told her, she sounded impressed. Next thing I knew, she told me she was putting the magazine’s name on the banner. What she didn’t know was I told Jane, my editor, how the marketing mogul Ezra Paul was a parent at the school, and they decided to jump through every hoop possible to get to him. Jane even pulled some rank in expediting approval.
“You know what? Let’s grab coffee. How’s Monday? Then we can flush out this grab bag idea. Sound good?”