“How’s Ryan?”
Tina shrugged.
“He’s okay. Working a lot.”
“What about the boys?”
“They’re good. Stacey Holbrook took them to the zoo today.”
“I haven’t seen them in a couple weeks.”
Tina nodded slowly, still not looking at her mother.
“I know. It’s just been … hard lately.”
For the six months Ryan was unemployed, they’d had no choice but to dip into their savings, into the boys’ college fund, and right now they were living paycheck to paycheck.
This, Tina knew, was where her hatred of life began.
Ever since the boys were born she had stayed at home; Ryan made more than enough that they were quite comfortable, and she used the extra time to work on her art. Her paintings, she knew, were good but not great, and it was during those months after Ryan was laid off—her husband not leaving for work in the morning as he usually did, but instead sitting at the dining room table and emailing his resume to firm after firm, calling old classmates who might know somebody who might know somebody—Tina realized she’d been fooling herself.
She fancied herself an artist, had once envisioned her work being displayed in an art gallery in New York, one of those ritzy places that would have an opening where they’d pop champagne and everybody would clap, and while she had never shared this dream with Ryan, he knew how much she loved to paint and had always encouraged her. And for a while it had been fine—again, they were quite comfortable—but now their savings were practically gone and she realized she needed to step up and find a job herself.
Only she had no idea what she could do. She’d been out of the workforce for almost twelve years. The gap in her resume would send up red flags at HR departments. And even assuming she did get called in for an interview, she worried she would say or do the wrong thing and embarrass herself.
After putting it off, she’d finally broken down and asked her mother for some money to help out. Her mother gladly wrote a check for two thousand dollars. Tina had felt tears stinging her eyes when she accepted it, promising her mother she and Ryan would pay her back in a couple months, definitely a couple months, all the while knowing it might take much longer.
Now her mother asked, “How’s the job search coming?”
Tina felt ready to burst out in tears. It was one of the reasons she kept her face tilted down, so she wouldn’t have to look at her mother. Wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on the woman’s face. The shame.
She whispered, “Not great.”
“Any interviews yet?”
Tina shook her head.
“Hey”—her mother reached across the table to touch her hand—“look at me.”
Tina blinked, shifted her focus up to meet her mother’s eyes. Her mother squeezed her hand and offered up an encouraging smile.
“Nobody ever said life was going to be easy. Everybody has hard moments. You and Ryan will make it through this.”
Tina wet her lips, tried to speak but couldn’t. She shook her head again. Looked away, stared off toward the living room, and sighed.
“It’s just … I feel so worthless.”
“Tina, don’t.”
“It’s true, Mom.”
Looking back at her mother, tears stinging her eyes.
“I’ve been a mother so long—have been a wife—I don’t know what else I can be.”
“You’re creative. There are plenty of places who would hire someone with your artistic talent.”
Tina wanted to bark out a laugh.
“I’m not talented.”
“Sure, you are. You made that painting right there.”
Her mother pointed off toward the piece hanging on the wall in the hallway, an abstract Tina barely remembered working on but which she’d given her mother for her birthday one year.
Tina said, “I’m not a real artist.”
Her mother squeezed her hand again, issued a soft sigh.
“I know it’s difficult, but you and Ryan will be okay. Do you need some more money? I don’t have much, but I could lend you a bit more.”
It hurt her heart to hear her mother say those words. This wasn’t why she came here. Not to beg for money. Not for her mother’s pity.
“I think we’re okay for now.”
“Are you sure? My checkbook is right in the next room.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I … I wanted to get out of the house. Wanted to come see how you’re doing.”
There was a heavy silence as they both considered the meaning of Tina’s words. In the next room, the clock softly ticked. Now it was her mother who tilted her face down so she wouldn’t have to look at her daughter.
Tina spoke quietly.
“It’s been almost a year since Holly … since she went away.”
Tina wasn’t sure how else to put it. She hadn’t learned that Holly decided to leave until it had already happened. Her mother had phoned her but Tina didn’t believe it at the time, thinking her sister was simply being melodramatic. Holly wanted to stop working as a nanny for the Haddens—a job Tina had never thought matched Holly to begin with—and had wanted to find a different job, and then she had just disappeared.
For the longest time her mother didn’t answer, staring down at her coffee, and then she sighed and took a hesitant sip. Set the mug back down, and glanced up at her daughter.
“I never told you about the day she came to see me. Well, I did tell you, but I left something out.”
Tina found herself leaning forward. She had never known her mother to keep secrets from her.
“What didn’t you tell me?”
Her mother looked back down at her coffee, shook her head.
“Holly had a bruise on her face that morning. I asked her what happened, asked her who hit her, but she didn’t want to talk about it. She said she … wanted to say goodbye. She said she would be leaving and might not be back. I didn’t know what she meant. I thought she was just being cryptic for some reason. But
