Page 74 of Exclusive

She shook her head. “Full of pretty people with attitude problems, but I’m making my way. I have a big case going to trial next week, and we’re going after everything the guy has.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be on the other side of that divorce.”

She laughed. “Nor would I.”

We ordered our lunch, my mother raising an eyebrow when I chose the pasta with the white wine sauce. “Not just a salad?” Theimplication was clear. She was so different from tía Yolanda. I had trouble imagining them growing up together under the same roof. Neither was unkind, but they had wildly different outlooks on life.

“Oh, I have a long day ahead of me,” I said, embarrassed now. I had been looking at this lunch as a little splurge, finally seeing my mom in person. “I just felt like I needed sustenance.”

She smiled serenely. “Well, you know best.”

We ate and chatted, mainly about her workload at the firm and family gossip. She asked a few questions about my short-term career goals at the station. I gave her the quick version, imagining we could delve into more later.

As lunch wound down, I moved us forward. “I have some time before I need to be at the station today, so I thought we could swing by my place. You can finally see where I live and say hi to Micky.”

She dabbed the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin. “I would simply adore that, but my schedule is tight. I’m meeting with a witness who is being deposed tomorrow, and let me tell you, they have a lot to say about this divorce.” She leaned in, a gleam in her eye. “This woman has everything documented, too. Every incident in which she witnessed the husband’s mentally abusive ways. She’s a true score for our side.”

“Oh.” I nodded and attempted an understanding smile. “I can imagine. Well. Another time, then? I’d really love for you to see where I live and meet my girlfriend.” I grinned. “She’s pretty great.”

She folded her napkin and placed it on the table. “Oh, I googled her. Have no fear. She seems accomplished and beautiful. We’ll set something up soon when I’m back in town.” She signaled for the check, and I downshifted. She’d used that term on me my whole life.Soon. I’d learned to despise the word.

“Just let me get through this semester.Soonwe’ll have more time together.”

“SoonI’ll bring you to LA for a long weekend. We’ll go on a tour of a real movie studio.”

“I know I couldn’t come to your school play this time, butsoonI’ll be able to do things like that.”

She’d meant it, too. At least at the time. Those things just hadn’t ever manifested, and she’d never circled back to apologize. I couldn’t seem to let go of that, like something uncomfortable stuck in my throat.

My mother wasn’t a bad person, but on her list of priorities Iranked somewhere in the middle. I couldn’t complain. So many people had it worse. I was lucky enough to have my aunt and uncle and cousins to prop me up when I was feeling like an afterthought.

Yet here I was. A grown woman, thirty years old, sitting across from my mother, and feeling the same way all over again.

“I would like that very much. She’s becoming important to me. Carrie.” I wanted my mother to hear her name, this woman who was my all.

She beamed. “I can see it written all over your face, and that’s all any parent wants. Happiness for their child.” She covered her heart. “I’m just thrilled for you, mi vida.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

But after a hug and the short wait for a cab, she was off into the world again, and I was alone on the curb watching after her car, feeling empty. In fact, for the rest of the day, I was a lesser version of myself, rejected in a sense, when I’d been so excited for her visit. I kept my head down at the station, buried myself in notes so not many people would talk to me, and tried hard not to dwell. My mom was a busy woman. That was all. She cared about me, I told myself over and over. She truly did. It didn’t change the way I felt, though.

Maybe one day I would have enough confidence in myself to enjoy what she was able to give. Wrap it up, hold it tight, and be grateful for who I’d grown to be.

One day. Just not today.

* * *

The following week on air came with even more hiccups. The teleprompter, something I’d worked with in the past, could be my best friend or my mortal enemy, depending on who was operating it. I’d lost my place more than once on air, saved only by a moment of light banter with Rory. While there were some viewers still angry over Carrie’s firing, our test numbers were decent and expected to grow with time. People were still getting used to my partnership with Rory. We didn’t have the same steady rapport he and Carrie had. “You’re either his kid sister or the younger woman in his life, depending on the broadcast,” Carlos told me in the break room one night. “I can’t seem to decide which is better for you.”

“Both seem awkward,” I said. “We have to iron that part out.”

“Oh, I think Tam will do that for you,” he said with a knowinggrin and turned the corner. My heart sank at what the chatter might be behind the scenes.

“Now that you’re so much more at ease, I want you to work on your connection with the camera,” Kristin told me one night after the ten. “It’s not a flirt, but it’s notnota flirt.”

I blinked, trying to make sense of that note. “So what is it?”

“It’s a connection between you and that lens. You hint at it, but you don’t fully go there.”

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