Right, no time for sadness while the cameras roll. I match her smile and stand. We go over together, as a family, and praise the Ortiz’s win.
I stumble through wet cement as I make my way back to our table, my heart racing a mile a minute, the roaring in my ears drowning out any conversation around me. A fog closes in and all I can do is make my way to the elevators to get outside and breathe some fresh air, my belongings forgotten. My family left behind.
There’s a line of town cars waiting to take the families back to the hotel so I dive into the first one I meet. The door closes behind me but we don’t leave the curb. We won’t until my abandoned family makes it down.
When Mama slides in next to me, she grabs me into her arms, pulling me against her breast. That’s when the dam breaks, spilling all my saved-up tears. I can’t help it; the disappointment is too big of a weight, although it should be the other way around. I should be comforting her. She’s the biggest loser in all of this even though she doesn’t see it yet.
An hour later, the suitcase and backpack are by the door to my hotel room, ready to go. Wyatt had his bearings enough to bring my backpack with him from the studio. He didn’t even seem that let down by losing. I’m just sitting on the sofa waiting for Mama to text me that she’s ready and we can go down to the car that will take us to the airport and back home.
My phone chimes and when I check the screen, Mike’s name scrolls by. I click on the message.
I’m at the airport. Just wanted to check on you.
Guilt and sorrow tangle my heart and lungs. I want to throw the phone. I want to text him back and tell him never to contact me again. None of this is Mike’s fault. I’m okay.
As okay as I can be. I have to hold it together though. For Mama. I dumped on her enough and now it’s time for me to figure something else out. I can’t afford to wallow.
You should have advanced. I’m so sorry.
I have to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t take it out on him. I have nobody to blame but myself. Not even Knox this time. I’m the one who fucked up the pasta—a mistake so egregious, we couldn’t recover.
I appreciate it. Heading out. Ttys
Wyatt texts next. We’re ready.
I haul myself off the couch and schlep to the bathroom, giving the Jacuzzi tub a longing look. I didn’t have a chance to soak in it this time and figured I would next time, but there won’t be a next time. With one last look, I turn and gather my things by the door and say goodbye to this hotel for the last time.
Mama and Wyatt are in the hallway waiting. Seeing the sympathetic looks on their faces is almost my undoing again. Wyatt will be fine. He can get a job anywhere. He wants to go back to school and get his CPA, which he can still do, with Daddy’s help.
I can get a job anywhere too. Mama can’t. And without income and health insurance, she won’t be able to manage her lupus. The way she looks at me, with so much concern in her eyes, makes me think that still, none of this has occurred to her.
This is such a mess and I need to figure out how to get us out of it.
Rowan’s Spectacular Seared Beef Carpaccio
10-ounce beef tenderloin
Olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Slice tenderloin into paper-thin pieces or otherwise into 1/2-inch pieces. If cut into 1/2-inch pieces, place each piece between 2 sheets of plastic wrap and use a mallet to pound into paper-thin pieces. Pat each piece dry and very briefly torch with a blowtorch, moving flame continuously. Drizzle with oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
Yield: 4 servings
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Can’t catch a break.
Over the past week since we unceremoniously exited the competition, I’ve come to a conclusion on what needs to happen in order to continue Mama’s business and keep Sue. Now it’s a matter of convincing both women how we move forward, because I don’t think either will like it, but I can’t see another way.
I sit at my desk and pull out the menu in process I’d been creating. I’ll need to put these ideas away for now but won’t give up on them entirely. Knox’s neat script is annotated in the margins, clear even in his quick scribbling. He’s called the restaurant and Wyatt several times since we left San Francisco, but thankfully hasn’t shown up. I’m not ready to face him or all the feelings that have been tearing me up inside. He was right after all—he never needs to cheat to beat me. He only needs to exist.
The coffee I left on the counter is probably cool enough to sip so I go over to pick the cup up when there’s a soft knock on the door. After peeking through the peephole, I let in Mama and Sue. I sent them a group text this morning so this visit is not unexpected.
Mama kisses me on the cheek before coming in and sitting on the couch. She seems withered and hunched. Is it because of my text? Or is her health in question?
Sue squeezes my hand and joins Mama on the sofa.
No one has uttered a single word, including me, so I go back into the kitchen and make them both some herbal tea and bring the cups into the living room along with my coffee.
“I assume you’re here because of my text.”
“You think?” The crinkles around Sue’s eyes deepen when she frowns.
“We’ve been racking our brains
