Mother Dearest

Chapter 3

I work at removing the tiles by the ceiling while Laurie scrapes away at the ones near the floorboard. She's a talker, I'll say that much. I hear about her job, and how the head pastry chef was featured in Food and Wine Magazine. I hear about her daughter April, and how she's already decided to be a lawyer when she grows up. But I don't hear any mention of Sara.

So I try to steer the conversation in that direction. "So, does April look like you? Or other family members?"

"She's got my eyes," Laurie says, prying a stubborn tile off the wall. "But looks-wise, she's like a miniature Sara."

"Sara?"

"My other daughter. She's in her mid-thirties. And my son Jack is nearly forty."

"Big age difference," I say mildly.

"They say women get much more fertile right before menopause," she replies, and I have the feeling she's said it before. Must get asked about it a lot, when you're in your sixties with a young daughter. "April likes to say she's my do-over kid."

"How so?"

She sits back on her heels, wiping her brow. "My husband Jim. well, he wasn't a good man. Jack and Sara grew up in a very unhappy home. So April says I try to give her the life that my son and daughter didn't have."

"I'm sure you're a wonderful mother," I tell her.

She flashes a grateful look, and it strikes me again, how much her eyes resemble Sara's. Her mouth is small, so I guess Sara got that huge smile from her father. I wonder what it's like to look at someone you love and see a part of someone you hate in them.

"What about you?" she asks. "Any children?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Just never happened. I am engaged, though."

"Congratulations! When's the big day?"

"We haven't set a date yet. Just gave her the ring last month."

"Tell me about her."

"Well," I say, a grin beginning to creep across my lips, "she's wonderful. Smart, and compassionate, and beautiful."

"Sounds like a keeper."

"She is."

A door slams loudly, and we hear heavy footsteps making their way toward the bathroom. "Mom?"

"In here, honey," Laurie calls, throwing another tile in the trash bin.

A girl appears in the doorway, blinking in surprise when she sees me. I can see what Laurie means about the resemblance. Her hair is a lot curlier, and there are a few differences in the face, but for the most part she does indeed look like a miniature Sara.

"You must be April," I say, sticking out my hand. "I'm Gil, I'm helping your mom with the tiles."

"Hey," she says cordially, giving me a decent handshake. "Mom, you want me to order something for lunch?"

Laurie hops to her feet, brushing her pants off with her palms. "No, I'll make something. What are you doing home so early?"

"Parent-teacher conferences, remember? Yours is tomorrow."

"Right," Laurie nods. "What would you two like for lunch? I have the makings for grilled cheese and tomato soup."

"Sounds good to me," I say, grunting as I pry off another tile.

"Me too," April nods.

Planting a quick kiss atop her daughter's head, Laurie heads for the kitchen. "Honey, give Gil a hand while I'm cooking, would you?"

"Sure, Mom." Tossing her jacket aside, April grabs a scraper, getting to work on a row of tiles.

I watch her for a moment to make sure she's doing it right. "Have you done this before?"

"Mom and I watch a lot of home improvement shows," she says with a wry grin that reminds me of Sara. "Trading Spaces, Design on a Dime. It's pretty easy to pick up."

We work in silence for a bit. After several hours of listening to Laurie's chatter, it's a surprise to find her daughter is so quiet.

"So. what grade are you in, April?"

"Tenth."

"At thirteen?"

"Skipped a few grades," she shrugs. "My goal is to graduate by the time I'm fifteen."

"What's the hurry?"

She puts down her scraper, reaching for a sheet of sandpaper. "My mom tell you about her other daughter?"

"Sara?"

"Yeah. Mom's always telling people how Sara graduated from high school when she was sixteen. Which sounds more impressive than it is. I mean, her birthday is in September. So she was practically seventeen when she graduated. She only skipped one grade. I had to skip three."

"Had to?"

"To beat Sara," she says shortly.

"Ah," I nod, remembering. "The do-over kid, right?"

"I can get into Harvard too. It's not that hard." There's an edge to her voice that's surprising me.

"Seems like you and Sara are pretty competitive."

"Me and Sara aren't anything," she scoffs. "She's a bitch."

"Hey-" I object, before I can stop myself.

"She is. Did my mom mention her husband Jim?"

"Sara and Jack's father, right?"

"Right. She mention how he died?"

Oh, we're treading in some murky waters now. "Um."

"He was going after Sara, so my mom stabbed him to death."

Jesus. Sara never told me that part. "Going after?"

"Let's just say he took an interest," she says, sanding the wall roughly. "And my mom, she stepped up. Did time for it, too."

"That was very brave of her."

"Yeah, it was. And what does Sara do to repay her? Nothing. Never calls, never writes. I've never even met the bitch." April sets down the sandpaper, looking annoyed. "That's why my mom had me, you know. She can talk about fertility and menopause all she wants. I know I'm a replacement for Sara."

"And what about Jack?"

"He's up in Canada somewhere. Last we heard, he was in rehab again."

"Alcohol?"

"Methamphetamines."

I sigh, my head reeling. So many secrets, and yet I still can't figure out why Sara has shut her mother out of her life.

"April? Gil? Lunch is ready!"

"Nice!" April exclaims with a wide smile. "Mom's tomato soup is amazing."

"Ah," I smile, laying down my tools. "It's the bomb, huh?"

She cocks an eyebrow dubiously. "Uh, Gil, only geeks say the bomb."

"My mistake," I grin as she heads for the kitchen.