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Annie felt suddenly distant from her daughter. She was reminded of four years ago, when Natalie had turned into someone else. It had seemed that overnight, their tastes had diverged: whatever Annie liked, Natalie hated. Christmas that year had been a tense, horrible affair, with Natalie dully opening each carefully wrapped package and then muttering a caustic gee thanks. “Nana? What is it?”
Slowly, Natalie turned to face Annie. “You don’t have to be this way, you know. ”
“What do you mean?”
Natalie shook her head and looked away. “
Never mind. ”
Understanding dawned slowly, and with it, pain. It all fell into place: Natalie’s desire to study biochemisty at Stanford, her sudden trip to London, her unwillingness to date the same boy for more than a few months. Behind it all was a sad message: I don’t want to be like you, Mom. I don’t want to be dependent on a man for everything.
“I see,” Annie said.
Natalie turned to her at last, and this time there were tears in her eyes. “What do you see?”
“It doesn’t matter. ”
“It does. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you don’t want to grow up to be like your old mom, and . . . as much as that hurts, it makes me proud. I want you to count on yourself in life. I guess, in the end, it’s all we have. ”
Natalie sighed. “You never would have said that before he broke your heart. ”
“I think I’ve grown up a little bit lately. Life isn’t all sunny days and blue skies. ”
“But you always taught me to look for the silver lining to every cloud. Are you doing that, Mom? Are you looking to be happy?”
“Of course I am,” she answered quickly, but they both knew it was a lie. Annie couldn’t meet her daughter’s penetrating gaze. “I’m glad you don’t want to be like me, Nana. ”
Sadness suffused Natalie’s face. “I don’t want to have a marriage like yours, and I don’t understand why you stay with him—I never have. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be like you. There are only two people in the world who don’t respect you . . . as far as I know, anyway. ”
She looked at Natalie, shaking her head slightly, as if she could stop her daughter’s words.
“Just two,” Natalie said. A single tear streaked down her cheek and she impatiently brushed it away. “Dad . . . and you. ”
You. Annie felt a sudden urge to disappear, to simply melt into the expensive bed linens and vanish. She knew that Natalie was waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t know what was the right answer. She felt as if she were the child, and Natalie the mother, and as the child, she’d let her parent down.
She opened her mouth to say something—she had no idea what—when suddenly Terri charged into the bedroom like a multicolored bull, her body draped in layers of red and gold lamé.
She came to a breathless stop beside the bed. Planting her fists on her meaty hips, she surveyed the bowl of popcorn. “So, where’s my popcorn? I mean, that’s enough for two skinny chicks like you, but we real women like our popcorn to come in bowls that could double as lifeboats. And I certainly want it coated in butter. ”
Natalie grinned. “Hey, Terri. ”
Terri smiled back, her heavily mascaraed lashes almost obscuring her twinkling eyes. “Hiya, princess. ”
“I’ll go make another batch of popcorn. ”
“You do that, sweetie,” Terri said, uncoiling the gold turban from her head.
When Natalie scurried from the room, Terri sat down on the end of the bed and leaned back against the footboard, sighing. “Christ, what a day. Sorry I’m late. ”
Annie smiled wanly at the theatrics. “What happened?”
“My character is running from the law—again—only this time they put her on a plane. ” Terri shook her head. “Bad news. ”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“In the soaps, there’s only one thing worse than getting on a plane, and that’s getting in a car. The next thing you hear is sirens . . . and funeral music. If they actually name the flight tomorrow, I’m dead meat. ”
