That night I got to join in with the group for dinner. I think it was mom doing the pity thing, or something. The truth is, I really didn’t want to go, but she talked me into it. She also cleared the leaving with the school. I knew she would. Mom’s always taken care of that kind of stuff when she needed to.

I think people sometime take mom for granted or think she’s just a pushover because she’s kind of pretty, and talks softly. But trust me, she does get her way. And when she’s mad, you do not want to mess with her.

Fortunately, she doesn’t seem mad now. In fact, she’s been really cool to me all day. Kind of like she knows that I needed a little less mom-the-hammer and a little more to be her little girl.

So, dinner.

Oh, wait, before dinner we got this phone call. Had to be Porter. I could only hear mom’s half of it, and I couldn’t even hear all of that.

Just some stuff like, “she’s laying down” “I’m not sure” “she hasn’t said” “we’ll have to talk about that.”

Um, mom, I’m right here. You can talk to me.

Seems like she can talk to Bette Porter easily enough, though. This morning she’s all *****-on-wheels. Now they’re like buddies.

My stomach still hurts.

But I did dinner, anyway. And it was good to see everyone.

Every once in a while, it’s nice to be transported out of the land of ***** drama. Certainly not much of that, at least so far, at my school. Plenty of drama, of course – just very few of it from the lesbians.

Anyway, I got to hear about everyone’s museum tour for the afternoon. That sounded like some fun stuff.

Luis asked me how I spent my day. Again, I didn’t exactly know what to tell him. I mean, they knew I’d kind of split again, I guess mom was searching all over for me. So, I felt kind of stupid about that.

I told him it was more family stuff, and kind of personal family stuff. I think he got that.

After a while, sitting with everyone, talking about the same stupid stuff we always talk about, I kind of relaxed. First, it was easy to just be myself around my friends. No expectations that I’d be some super daughter or super wannabe daughter or something.

Next, everyone had their own stuff going on. They didn’t really care what was happening with me, so I didn’t have to spend much time thinking about it.

If it wasn’t for the fact that mom was sitting over in adult-land with the chaperones and stuff, it could have been like the tour was continuing on, without any of my little side adventures.

Wow, do I come up with some stupid ideas sometimes, or what?

Here’s this chapter on mom’s life that was just totally closed, I’m sure. And there I go, not just reopening the chapter, but ripping out the pages and all that kind of stuff.

So I’m not supposed to be thinking about the family drama. I’m supposed to be enjoying dinner.

And it was fun to hear what the normal kids, each from their own abnormal families, had spent the day doing. After a while, I was getting into the rhythm of the jokes and stuff like that.

Luis asked me if I could sneak away a little bit later.

I told him I’d try, but that might have been a lie. I don’t know. I’m still distracted.

I’d have invited him down to our room, but I’m not sure how mom would be about that. I think she likes Luis. She knows we’re dating and stuff. He’s been over to the house.

And yes, we always have the rules. Things like, no being in your room with the door closed. Come home by curfew. Call if you’ll be late. You know, mom kinds of stuff.

Now, I’m just still tired and trying to figure everything out.

After dinner, I went back up to the room with mom. She filled me in on the morning flight plans and all that.

Then she actually asked me if I wanted to go hang out with everyone. I guess I don’t have to worry about her slapping on the ankle bracelet or the radio collar or something.

If only I was in the mood to spend more time with them. I think dinner was enough. I asked her if we could walk around instead, just the two of us.

My mom’s got a really pretty smile when she uses it. Sometimes, I think she doesn’t quite smile enough. Then again, maybe I’m just not good at noticing these things.

And I wanted to use this time to talk to mom, I really did. But I wasn’t really sure how to address things. I was hoping she could kind of take the adult role here and start asking a few questions.

Mom rarely disappoints. Even when she’s going to do something that’s good for me, but I don’t want to do it, I know she’ll come through.

“How are you feeling?”

Yeah, good thing we’re starting small. Because that could only cover a few thousand different aspects of my life. “Not too bad. The stomach thing’s gone, I think.”

“That’s good. And about everything else, I know it’s a lot to take in at once.”

Causing the demise of your parents’ relationship. On a scale from 1-10, I think that somewhere in the six-digit range. I shrugged.

“You know, Jess, you can still ask me questions. At any time, when you’re ready.”

You’ll always be my mom, right? Maybe not the right place to start. “I know.”

Mom tossed her arm over my shoulder. I think that’s getting tougher for her to do with my height. But it still makes me feel good.

“Do you miss her?” It’s a little easier to ask some of this stuff out here, where I know she’s there for me, but I don’t have to look directly at her.

“There’s a part of me that won’t always be a part of Bette, also.” Ok mom, that’s a lot of words for saying yes. “But I’ve always had you to remind me of the best of what we had.”

Now she’s making me do that crying thing again. I so thought I was over that. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Because, umm,” yeah, how do I say this. But now that I’ve started, she’s going to expect me to finish. “Because I was kind of nervous that, you know, it might be the opposite.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Okay, I’m really not sure what I mean, either, mom. “I thought, the fact that I look like her, I don’t know, that you might not want that reminder.”

Mom wrapped me up into one of those bestest of all mom hugs. “Oh Jess,” she whispered. “Don’t ever think that you’re not wanted.”

We probably looked pretty dorky, standing there on a New York street, hugging. I’m surprised someone didn’t spraypaint tourist across our backs, but it’s not like that wouldn’t have been apparent, anyway.

When she finally let go, I was still having trouble looking at her. “I’m sorry, mom.”

“For what?”

Scaring you. Making you fly cross country. Scaring you some more. Making you spend time with that woman. And, most of all, for fingerpainting the hallway that afternoon when you were trying to prepare stuff for that big studio party at the house, but I just wanted to do my part in the decorations.

I shrugged.

Mom gave me a kiss on the cheek. And then wiped at my cheek with her thumb. She’s got this thing about lipstick, and about kissing her kid. I’ve learned to just deal with it.

Kind of like I’ve learned that this is my life, and I should just accept, and enjoy, and with the stuff I don’t fully understand, just deal. Not go chasing after phantoms when I find their photographs in mom’s closet.

That’s probably a good strategy.

She grabbed my hand and tugged me back towards the hotel. “Let’s go. We’ve got to pack, and be ready for an early flight.”

Amen to that. New York, good riddance.

(the end, for now.)

(thanks all for the interest, and in urging me to keep this going.)