Page 74 of The Love We Make

“I’m fine, darling,” I lie, because it has hit me much harder than I’m letting on. Even more so because when I left Nora’s on Monday, I meant what I said. That this didn’t have to be the end. Nora clearly thinks differently about that.

But I’m surrounded by my family, by the people I love most in the world. And I have a meal to assemble. Drinks to prepare. The kids offer to help much more than they usually would, but I need to keep busy. I need to do things. Because I don’t know if whatever I had with Nora can be salvaged. Either way, when shooting ofUnbreak My Heartresumes next week, I’ll be paying a visit to the set. Even if there’s nothing left to salvage, I need more closure than what Nora has given me so far.

As I check the turkey, the question that’s been haunting me since Monday comes at me again: do I even still want to be with her? Despite Nora claiming it’s impossible, I do love her. But that’s all I know.

Because their father’s here, I’ve asked the kids not to mention my all-too-brief fling with Nora. Eric and I are still good friends, forever tied together by our children, but I don’t want any questions about Nora. Not today, on this day of celebration and giving thanks. And I have a lot to be thankful for as I look around the table. Still, I wish Nora was sitting next to me today. I was over the moon when she agreed to come, because I hadn’t really expected it. Maybe asking her to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family was my first mistake.

After dinner, Juan whisks me away from the kitchen and takes me up to Austin’s old room. “Talk to me, Mimi. What happened?”

“You don’t know?”

“All I know is you pushed her too hard one way or another, but that could mean anything with Nora. I know what she’s like.”

“Apparently, I made the unforgivable mistake of asking her to call her parents for Thanksgiving.”

Juan’s jaw slackens. “Oh, fuck.” He shakes his head slowly. “That’ll do it.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“Did she not tell you anything about her family?” he asks.

“She gave me some vague information about how they never really talk and are supposedly so bad at communication, whatever that may mean.”

“Even I don’t know a whole lot more than that and I’ve known Nora for twenty years.”

“Have you ever met her parents?” I ask.

“A couple of times. Years ago. When they still came to LA once in a while. But it’s been a really long time.” Juan clears his throat. “Nora may appear very cagey about the whole thing, but I don’t think she means to be. She’s very touchy about the subject, though, which is why we never discuss it. We have this unspoken rule between the three of us to never judge each other when it comes to our blood family. But it’s much more obvious why my family hates me, and Imani’s family hates her. In our cases, it’s a clear emotion. It’s much more complicated with Nora and I genuinely believe she doesn’t have the skill to express how things are exactly. That it probably hurts her more than she lets on. But she’s learned to live with it.”

I’m not so naive to think every family is like mine, with kids who call their mother all the time, and where the love is so obvious, nothing ever needs to be questioned. It’s all just there.

“It was just a simple question I asked her.”

“To Nora, there’s no such thing as a simple question about her family.”

“That may be so, but she didn’t have to fly off the handle. I told her beforehand, made it abundantly clear, that I was speaking from a place of love.”

“Still, you must have made her feel judged and that the love you professed to have for her was somehow conditional.” Juan holds up a finger. “I’m sure that wasn’t your intention, but that’s probably how Nora interpreted it.”

I heave a deep sigh. “I don’t really know what to do with that.” I find his eyes. They’re deep brown and kind. “Because, newsflash… Mama has feelings, too.” Oh, fuck. Here we go. I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping my tears at bay, but here come the waterworks. “What Nora and I had was not nothing. It wasn’t some meaningless fling. It was very precious to me.” I wipe at my eyes.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Mimi.” He holds out his arms and, fuck it, I don’t care that I’m crying on my son’s boyfriend’s shoulder. “Maybe we can still fix this, though,” he whispers as he pats my hair.

“How?” I say in between sobs. I try to square my shoulders, straighten my spine. I find a tissue in my pocket and dab at my moist cheeks.

“I don’t know yet. This is new to me as well. Apart from a few brief dalliances decades ago, Nora really hasn’t been with anyone. Literally, no one. So I’m not yet sure how to navigate this. She hates feeling manipulated more than anything.” He taps his index finger against his chin. “I’ll talk to Nora first.”

“Did she give any indication that she, um, might want to patch things up?”

“Honestly…” He scrunches his lips into a tight pout. “No.”

My stomach drops. Why are we even having this conversation? “I’m sixty-five, Juan. And yes, Nora got to me. I’m willing to give her another chance, if she wants it and she takes it. What I’m not willing to do is start over with someone who acts like a petulant teenager just because I ask her a question she doesn’t like. I’m too old for that kind of bullshit.”

“Got it.” He nods slowly.

I hear a child shouting, then someone climbing the stairs. “We should get back.”

“Yeah.” Juan reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll try to work some of my special Diaz magic for you, Mama.”

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