by Thelma Adams
The fear of being alone had overwhelmed her, but now that she had Larry, she realized how complicated loneliness could be. Thelma struggled to find that generosity inside her to give him, to rally her maternal instinct. She wanted to be a mother, to feel that pull, the urgency and need, that connection, hand in sticky hand. Mama couldn’t find love in her heart for Thelma, and she, in turn, struggled to love her son. But Thelma refused to wait until her last breath to right the wrong. She had to learn to love Larry the way she’d wanted to be loved. She had to unleash that devotion she’d had for Phil, for Abie, for Louis—and bundle it up for Larry.
And maybe, just maybe, the kid’s love for her would be enough. She’d work hard at the union job, typing her way into a steady paycheck, a pension, and a burial plot. It wasn’t dancing and daffodils, but she’d save for an apartment big enough for two and put Larry to sleep every night with a wet kiss on each cheek, the way he deserved to be loved, because that was what a mother should do, no matter how broken.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This was a journey back in time and deep into my heart, and I couldn’t have achieved it without the amazing, magical circle of women who made my lifelong dream a reality. Thank you to my lady of the lake, Lake Union Publishing, for her unwavering support and insight: editorial director Danielle Marshall and her entire team, including the passionate developmental editor Tiffany Yates Martin, Gabriella T. Dumpit, Shasti O’Leary Soudant, Dennelle Catlett, and Nicole Pomeroy. I’m grateful to Victoria Sanders & Associates, led by the mighty, wonderful Victoria Sanders, with Bernadette Baker-Baughman and Jessica Spivey. Oh, Benee Knauer, my editorial coach, what an adventure we’ve had: traveling to the old neighborhoods of Brooklyn, the borough that yielded my father, who could find a Brooklynite on the hillside of Greece’s Delphi and would yell across hallowed ground to greet them, eternally embarrassing the rest of us, including my mother, Rosalie.
And then there are the menschen who make my writing a life: Dennis Dermody, Galen Kirkland and Natalie Chapman, Hilton Caston and Robin Ruhf, Paula Bomer, Amy J. Moore, Nicole Quinn, Julie Fontaine, Jane Rosenthal, Berry Welsh, Jill Goldstein, Caroline Leavitt, Susan Shapiro, Nina Shengold, Melissa Leo, Rajendra Roy, Patricia Clarkson, Anne Hubbell, Amy Hobby, B. Ruby Rich, Drew Grant, Emily Assiran, Nick Hitchcock, those heroes of WAMC, Joe Donahue and Sarah LaDuke, and Lina Frank and Clare Anne Darragh, the powerhouses of Frank PR.
Of course, undying love to my husband, Ranald, and children, Elizabeth and Ranald IV, for their support and perspective that having a mother who’s a writer isn’t exactly the same as one who bakes cakes and slays dust bunnies, but it has its perks.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2018 Emily Assiran
Thelma Adams is the author of the bestselling historical novel The Last Woman Standing and the O, The Oprah Magazine pick Playdate. She coproduced the Emmy-winning Feud: Bette and Joan. Additionally, Adams is a prominent American film critic and an outspoken voice in the Hollywood community. She has been the in-house film critic for Us Weekly and the New York Post and has written essays, celebrity profiles, and reviews for Yahoo! Movies, the New York Times, O, The Oprah Magazine, Variety, the Hollywood Reporter, Parade, Marie Claire, and the Huffington Post. Adams studied history at the University of California, Berkeley, where she was valedictorian, and received her MFA from Columbia University. She lives in Upstate New York with her family.
