Page 6 of The Affair
“Taking care of your mother can’t be the only thing you do.” Her hand touched my shoulder for a brief moment, and our eyes met. “What about your job? Your—”
“I have a life,” I said defensively, stepping back, not even sure if my lipstick makeover was done. I didn’t care.
The restroom was suddenly too small, and I needed air.
“I’m going to go check on Mom.”
“Okay, dear,” she answered, her head cocked to the side with a soft smile on her face.
I recognized that look well. I’d seen it staring back at me all day from hundreds of people.
Sympathy.
Only this time was different. Aunt Sally wasn’t sympathizing over the death of my father. No, she felt sorry for me.
Maybe everyone did.
* * *
I walkedout of that restroom, feeling slightly bewildered as I entered the fellowship hall.
I have a life, I thought, looking through the rows of people until I found her.
She sat with my brother and his family, a plate of picked-over food in front of her. Even with the gray hair and deep lines that creased her face now, I could see the young woman she had once been.
The one who used to chase me around the yard and push me on the swings.
The one who never missed a dance recital and always baked cookies on the first day of school.
She was always there for me, and now, I would do the same for her.
It was true; this wasn’t the life I’d had a year ago—the one with the picket fence and the husband who adored me—but it was a life nonetheless.
And I would gladly take it.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, grabbing the empty chair next to hers.
Her face met mine, and I tried not to notice the way her barely there blush highlighted her sunken cheeks or the way the harsh fluorescent lights of the hall brought out that faraway look in her eye that seemed to only grow with each passing day.
“Hi, Ellie. Have you grabbed a plate?” she asked, her maternal role never too far behind, even on a day like this. “There’s some good stuff over there. I think Mrs. Abernathy brought those deviled eggs you like.”
“I’m good for now,” I answered, aiming a serious look down at her plate. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’ve had a bit.”
I wanted to push, to ask her to please just eat a couple more bites for the sake of my own sanity and those hollow cheeks, but I didn’t.
I’d just try again later. I knew I’d have better luck at home.
Not much, but better.
“Where were you?” Jack asked as he fed his toddler tiny pieces of ham across from me.
I tried to ignore any inflection his question might carry. I didn’t know why, but I always assumed my brother meant more than he said. Maybe it was the incredibly high IQ that had gotten him into college on a full ride or it could just be that I was just straight-up jealous of his perfect little family and the fact that I’d lost my chance the day I signed my divorce papers.
Yeah, that could definitely be it.
“The restroom mostly,” I answered. “There was a huge traffic jam in there.”
