Page 11 of Circle of Strangers
Sozi glances at me, and I can see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Please tell me you had a TV-sitcom mom. Tell me she was funny and cheesy and baked cookies and took you to the park.”
I sniff, contemplating how I’m going to answer this. It’s no one’s business—but it also isn’t often I meet someone who can remotely relate to what I went through. Without a decent therapist in my life anymore, it might be nice to have a sympathetic ear once in a while. Not that I need one. But there are days that keeping it all locked up inside is akin to letting Lucinda take up silent residence in a place she’s never been welcomed.
“I like to think there was a parallel universe somewhere where she was exactly that kind of mom,” I say, sparing details for now. “Unfortunately I think she would’ve really hit it off with yours. Birds of a feather.”
She’s studying me now, her expression a mix of sympathy and curiosity, but there’s a hardness there, too. One that I know too well. The kind that comes from years of fighting your way through life alone.
“I guess that’s why motherhood’s been so healing for me,” she says after a beat, her voice more introspective than before. “With Ezra ... it’s like, everything I didn’t get as a kid, I get to give to him. It’s this second chance, you know? A chance to do it right. Maybe this sounds crazy, but it’s almost like I’m canceling out all the bad stuff that happened to me.”
I stare at her, my mind buzzing with the strangeness of hearing words I could have spoken myself.
It’s eerie.
“Same,” I reply, surprising myself with how much I mean it. “Sometimes when I do something completely opposite of what my mother would’ve done, it’s like giving her the middle finger and hugging my inner child at the same time.”
Sozi gives me a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. God, that’s a great way to put it. That’s exactly what it’s like. It’s almost medicinal to get to protect them from everything we couldn’t protect ourselves from.”
This conversation—along with Sozi’s self-awareness—is unexpectedly deep.
I glance across the patio, past the thick stone walls and the locked gates, imagining a world beyond them that’s chaotic and out of control. A world full of danger. But in here, behind these gates, behind these walls, I get to control it. I get to make sure no one can get close enough to hurt my kids. To hurt me. To hurt Will.
“Exactly,” I say, my voice firmer now. “It’s all about keeping them safe.”
Sozi looks at me, something like relief in her eyes, as if she’s been waiting her whole life to meet someone who gets it—and she has no idea just how much I get it.
The timer on my phone dings, signaling it’s time to pick up the kids. If I don’t arrive at exactly 2:40 PM to Jackson’s school, I’ll get stuck at the end of the car lane, which will make me late for Georgie’s pickup.
“I’d love to continue this conversation another time,” I tell her. While I’m not champing at the bit to discuss Lucinda in any kind of detail, I’m curious about Sozi’s experience. Her overly extroverted, oversharing, desperate-for-human-interaction-persona aside, I can’t recall the last timeIhad an actual friend.
It might be nice.
Keyword: might.
And I could be good for her. I could take her under my wing, instill a bit of self-worth in her, maybe even some self-awareness.
I could be an anti-Lucinda.
Besides, catfishing married men on dating apps isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be. Some days it’s more of a chore. Sozi might be a nice project for me. It’d be a win-win for both of us.
As I walk home under the golden glow of the afternoon, my shadow long against the pavement, I can’t help but ponder on this little circle of strangers, each of us with our own hidden worlds behind our locked gates, our own secrets we’re desperately trying to keep out.
7
Under the glow of my bedside lamp, I scroll aimlessly through my phone. Will took Jackson and Georgie on another bike ride after dinner tonight, and now that the kids are bathed and in bed, he’s enjoying a long, hot shower himself.
Tapping on the True Spark app, I pull up my messages. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do about Oscar, if I do anything at all. I haven’t messaged him since yesterday morning, so I’ve technically ghosted him, but I can’t help but feel like I’m the one being haunted.
I should delete the app and abandon the project altogether, except the fact that it’s taking place in my own backyard coupled with the way his wife’s eyes seem to wander to my husband ... makes it more personal.
Oscar:Where’d you go, gorgeous? You just going to leave me all by my lonesome (and very single) self?
Oscar:Waiting . . .
Oscar:I think you should know, while I’m horrible at sharing, I’m also equally bad at giving up when I find something I want. You’re drop dead gorgeous and I want you. What are you doing this Friday? There’s a new Japanese restaurant in the valley I’ve been wanting to try.
Oscar:Or if you prefer, we can go somewhere a little more private and get to know each other better ...
I fire back with something to test him:Sorry. To be honest, this dating app stuff is a bit overwhelming. I can’t keep up with all the matches. I’m intrigued by you, Oscar, but you’re going to have to try harder to convince me why I should consider you. Tell me what you’re looking for in someone, what kind of partner you are, what a relationship means to you.
