We get takeout from the Elephant Bar and sit in my living room on the floor, eating and talking about nothing and everything.
“Do you still make time for sewing?” Eloise asks, after we finish gorging ourselves on Korean beef tacos.
I take a deep breath. “If I show you something, do you promise not to laugh?”
Her brows lift. “Of course.”
I stand up, getting items I’ve been saving in the magic closet, and toss the bundle in front of her on the floor.
“Jane.” Eloise riffles through some of the finished work, holding up some of the gowns to inspect. “This is gorgeous. What did you make this for? Or who, I guess.”
“Drag queens.”
She stares at me, openmouthed. Then she grins. “No freaking way. That’s amazing. Tell me how this happened.”
I give her an extremely abbreviated version of events, having to omit the fact that I just met Hugo today. And it’s not lying, for me it’s been much longer than a day.
“Will you design a dress for me? Maybe not this extravagant. Maybe a classic design, but colorful instead of the requisite black. I hate black. I blame Mom. I mean, I don’t know if I’m ever going to a red-carpet event again, but I’d like to think someday I will.”
“You will. Eloise.” I put my hand over hers. “I would love to make you a dress.”
One she’ll never actually get to wear until I can get Tuesday to happen. I shove the thought away. Dwelling won’t help.
Eloise’s phone trills with a call, the ringtone emanating from somewhere under the pile of fabric.
She delves into the stack and recovers it from under a purple strapless ballgown. She glances down at the screen and then meets my eyes with a wince. “It’s Mom. Should I answer?”
“What? Is that even a real question? Do you hate good times and being happy?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “She’s been calling me every day for the past week and I’ve been avoiding her.” Her eyes search mine and then her brows lift. “Maybe we should talk to her together?”
My mouth twists. “Um, no?”
She shifts toward me. “Come on, Jane. We can come clean, get it over with, tell her the truth about our situations, as a team. We can support each other and maybe . . . maybe it will help.”
We stare at each other, the phone continuing to ring between us.
“Do you not have voicemail set up?”
She rolls her eyes.
I bite my lip.
She’s right. This is one more scary thing I need to face. And the only way out is through.
“Okay.” I roll my hand. “Let’s do it. Quick, like a Band-Aid.”
She nods and answers the call, putting it on speaker and holding the phone between us.
“Oh, interesting.” Mom’s voice is a sarcastic whip, lashing the room before Eloise can even say hello. “You can answer the phone. I wasn’t sure if it had been turned off for nonpayment or if you had forgotten how to use the device.”
Eloise and I lock gazes. She rolls her eyes and I stifle a giggle. She’s right. It is easier when I’m not the only one on the receiving end of a verbal flogging.
“Hello, Mother. It’s nice to hear from you. How are you doing?”
“That’s very cute, Eloise, but we need to talk about Stanford.”
Cutting right to the chase, right where it bleeds.
Eloise swallows and I take her free hand. The laughter in our eyes dies. Both of our palms are clammy, but it doesn’t matter.
“I’m not going back. I’m dropping out.” Her eyes widen at me, like she’s surprised herself, and then her gaze dips to the phone.
The silence is deafening.
Eloise points at me, asking permission, and I nod.
“Jane is here with me too. She has something to say.”
I take a breath and hold it for a second and then the words roll out. “I lost my job. I’m going to do something else, but I’m not sure what that is yet.”
I’ve barely finished the sentence when she starts speaking. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not. You girls always did need a strong hand at your back to keep from quitting things. Good thing I’m here to keep you from making mistakes.”
I blink. But mistakes are how you learn.
“I’ll speak slowly so you both can understand.” Her words are crisp and enunciated with care. “The solutions here are simple. Eloise, you will go back to Stanford and try again next term. Jane, you need to start looking for a decent job. I have some friends I can call.”
Did she even hear what I said?
Eloise shakes her head. “No, Mom, I won’t.”
“And neither will I,” I add. “You can’t tell us what to do. We aren’t puppets for you to manipulate however you think is best. We’re your daughters. And we’re adults. If you can’t support our choices, even if they’re mistakes, maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore.”
“I’m your mother. I only want what’s best for you. Sometimes you can’t see it, but that’s what I’m here for. What I’ve always been here for since I brought you two into this world. You can’t just throw away everything I’ve worked so hard to give you.”
Here it is, the guilt trip. She gave us life and now we owe her all of it.
“Actually, we can do what we want. What you want isn’t what’s best. How many times have we told you we’re miserable? But you’re not listening. You’re too busy directing. I can’t speak for Eloise. For me, I would love to have a relationship with you, Mom, but it has to be a healthy one. And this isn’t.”
More silence. I wish I could see her reaction, but at the same time I’m glad I can’t.
“I agree,” Eloise says. After more silence, she adds, “Maybe we could do family therapy.” She shrugs at me.
I shake my head back and forth so hard it’ll fall off in a minute.
There’s a click and silence on the other end. The call on Eloise’s phone drops off the screen.
She
