Create a Life to Love

by Erin Zak

  “What do I do for a living?”

  I nodded. I felt so stupid.

  “I’m a writer.” Jackie paused. “Romance novelist, actually.”

  “Oh, wow!” I don’t know why I was so shocked. Women that gave up their babies didn’t automatically turn into horrible people with no drive or desires in life. I was being an asshole. “That’s really great. I’m sure you are very successful.” I tried to cover up my faux pas.

  Jackie smiled at me. “Yes, I am.”

  Well, she certainly didn’t lack confidence. “How many books have you published?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Holy cow! That’s a lot!”

  Jackie nodded. “It is.”

  “All in the romance genre?”

  “Yes,” Jackie answered, her tumbler only an inch from her lips. “Lesbian romance.” She dropped those words before she took a drink. Her eyes stayed glued to me while she drank. It caused a shiver to roll through my body.

  “Oh.” Nothing really stunned me these days. I was a substance abuse psychologist, so believe me, I’d heard it all. But seeing her sitting on my couch, holding that glass, looking at me like that? Yeah, that stunned me.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Hmm?” I looked down at my own glass and quickly brought it to my lips to take a drink. The dark liquor burned on the way down, but it felt satisfying. “A problem?”

  “That I’m a lesbian?” Her voice raised slightly at the end of lesbian, and it made her much more endearing than I think she planned or I expected.

  “Of course not.” My tone was matter-of-fact because it wasn’t a problem. At all. Why would it be? I held myself back from psychoanalyzing her, but I wanted to, because what the hell must have happened in her life that her first thought was that being gay would be a problem. It made me sad. Really, really sad. I looked at her sitting there, staring down at her drink. “Jackie?” When she looked up at me, her eyes were just as sad as I felt. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but I could tell she was barely holding it together. I couldn’t blame her, honestly. Look what she’d gone through. Getting pregnant. Having a daughter. Giving that daughter up for adoption. And now she was sitting in the adoptive mom’s study…drinking bourbon. “I’m good.”

  I didn’t believe her. At all. “Are you sure?” She looked at me again. God, her eyes were so green.

  “I’m sure,” she answered.

  I heard Beth flying down the stairs. I glanced at the door to the study as she entered. She looked at me and then at Jackie. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I answered quickly. “Just talking.”

  “Yeah, kid, just talking,” Jackie echoed. “I should probably be going, though.”

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Beth and Jackie both looked at me, surprise written all over their faces. Clearly, I wasn’t the only person shocked by my invitation.

  “Look, Ms. Weber—”

  “Susan. Please. Call me Susan.” I reached out and gently touched her arm. She looked down at my hand, then back up at me, and I wished I could say it was because she was taken aback by my kindness, but it wasn’t. There was something there. I felt it. She felt it. And I cannot describe it. It was a spark but not electricity, and it was intense in a way I didn’t know if I’d ever experienced. Surely it was because of our connection with Beth. Surely.

  “Mom,” Beth said, snapping me back to reality. I pulled my hand away from Jackie’s arm and looked at Beth. “She has a long drive home.”

  “Beth is right.”

  I saw the look the two exchanged. “You can stay in the spare room tonight and take off in the morning.” What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I inviting her to stay in our house? Explaining a random stranger in our spare bedroom was not going to be a good conversation when Steven finally got home. I didn’t need a crystal ball to see my future, which included an irate expression, a lot of choice words, and me keeping the kitchen island between him and me the entire conversation. It was sad that I was used to his erratic moods and horrible behavior. I disgusted myself. I swore I would never wind up in a relationship where I lived in constant fear. The first time he got angry with me, though I learned quickly that the back of his hand left a bruise the length and width of an eight-ounce New York strip. Needless to say, I walked a pretty straight path that kept me out of harm’s way. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew when to push a subject matter and when to keep my mouth shut. But for some reason, explaining Jackie’s presence was a fight worth fighting. And the look on Jackie’s face made me feel good about my offer. “Then it’s settled. You’ll stay. Beth, did you get washed up?”

  “Mom, can I talk to you in the kitchen?”

  “Of course, honey.” I could tell by Beth’s clenched jaw that she was going to question the hell out of me. I followed her into the kitchen, shouting that Jackie could wash up in the downstairs powder room.

  “Mother, what the hell are you doing?” Beth whispered as she spun around when we got into the kitchen. “Dad is going to flip if he comes home to my freaking birth mom in the guest room.”

  It broke my heart that Beth knew how temperamental her father was. I thought I hid it so well. And after we adopted Beth, he did a great job of making sure the bruises weren’t visible. God, what a fucked-up life. “It’ll be fine. And besides, I figured we could both get to know her. It’s cruel to send her on her way without feeding her. And it’s late. And she drove you home. You, who ran away and made it all the way to wherever. Actually, where does she live?”

  Beth’s shoulders relaxed, and she stopped leaning forward in attack position. “Not here.”

  “Beth.”

  “St. Pete.”

  “Florida? How the hell did you get there?” It still blew me away how much I sounded like my own mother sometimes.

  “I hitchhiked. Mom, please, it’s over and done with.” Beth clasped her hands together and begged. “She does not want to be a part of my life. So, I want her to leave.”

  “She will leave in the morning. I promise.” I placed my hands on Beth’s cheeks and kissed her forehead. “Maybe she needs to get to know you and see how incredible you are.”

  “Mom,” Beth whispered. “She seems like she hates me.”

  My heart broke. “She could never hate you,” I said softly as I dried a tear from Beth’s cheek. “You scared her. You’re her past standing in her present. It’d freak anyone out.”

  “Fine,” Beth said and pulled away from me. She took a few steps out of the kitchen and mumbled, “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked while smiling.

  “You heard me!”

  I laughed. “Dinner is ready, girls.” I said it loud enough that Jackie popped her head out of the powder room and smiled at me through the entryway. I smiled back and waved for her to come into the kitchen.

  * * *

  JACKIE

  To say that I felt like an intruder was a little too harsh. Susan had been so gracious and accepting. And Beth, even though she was not happy with me, was no longer shooting daggers at me. But I was definitely not fully welcomed at the dinner table, and it was apparent.

  Meeting Susan had been almost too much for me to handle. She seemed so…normal? Sincere? Perfect? And she treated Beth so well. And wow, was she breathtaking. I could not stop looking at her. She had these dimples in her cheeks when she smiled, and her hair fell right above her shoulders in curls that framed her face wonderfully. She had it parted on the side, and every now and then a stray curl would fall into her face when she looked down at her meal. When she would tuck it behind her ear, I found myself wanting to do it for her so I could feel how soft her hair was.

  “So, what do you do, Susan?” I watched her chewing her food. “I saw you had quite a few psychology books in your study.”

  Susan swallowed. “Yes, I, uh, I worked with troubled teens that were addicted to drugs and alcohol or had mental health issues.”

  “Wo
rked? Past tense?”

  “I’m taking a break. It gets…” Susan paused and picked at her green beans. “It gets pretty depressing.”

  “She was really good at her job,” Beth said. She reached over and placed her hand on Susan’s arm. The gesture made my heart hurt.

  “I’m sure she was,” I said. “I can see how it’d be rough, though.”

  Susan looked up at me. It was almost as if no one had ever believed her before. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  I nodded and kept eating. Susan had made roast beef and mashed potatoes with green beans. A home cooked meal that I didn’t have to home cook? It was freaking delicious. I could barely stop myself from inhaling it. I was already on my second helping of mashed potatoes, and if no one was looking, I was going to get a third.

  “Mom, did Jackie tell you that she writes books?”

  Susan was in the middle of drinking, so she raised her eyebrows and I heard a soft “Mm-hmm,” come from her.

  “Yeah, she’s like super famous or whatever.”

  I laughed. “I wouldn’t say that, Beth.”

  “Oh, no, you are. I did my research,” Beth said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “You have so many reviews on Amazon. Your last book was like number three on the bestseller list.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The lesbian romance bestseller list. There’s a big difference. It’s not the New York Times Bestseller List.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Beth said. “People obviously buy your books.”

  I smiled. That was actually really nice of her to say.

  “I’ll have to give one a whirl.”

  Beth let out a loud laugh. “Mom! They’re lesbian romances! You aren’t going to like them.”

  “I read all things, Beth. I do not discriminate.”

  “Oh, Mom, you’re going to be so uncomfortable.” Beth immediately looked at me. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” I raised my glass of iced tea to my lips. “Of course,” I said from behind the glass, “a lot of straight women read my books and like them.”

  “See, Beth? I will be fine.”

  “Yeah, but like, how straight are they? Am I right?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at Beth. “Yeah, I mean, you’re right. Sorry, Susan.”

  Susan’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised slightly. I had to take a breath because dammit, she was sexy. “I am going to prove to you that I can read one of your books and not be gay by the end of it.”

  It sounded like a challenge. One that, in my younger years, I probably would have jumped at the opportunity to participate in and win. But now, as I looked at the mom of the kid I gave up for adoption, all it did was make my stomach twist. “Good luck,” I finally said with a smile.

  A silence fell between us. I continued to eat, making sure to not stare too much at Susan, even though all I wanted to do was give her one of my books and watch her read it. Watch those thin fingers turn each page, watch her dark eyes bore holes into the paper, watch her clutch her chest during the heart-warming scenes, and watch her squirm with her legs crossed during the sex scenes. I had to put the brakes on this fantasy immediately. There was no way it could happen! At all!

  But wow, wouldn’t it be fun to see her unfold?

  When dinner was finished, I helped carry the dishes to the sink. Beth started rinsing the dishes without being asked, so I fell in line and started to load the dishwasher. It felt as if we had done this a hundred times before. Beth must have felt the same way because she kept looking at me and smiling. “What?” I asked as she handed over the last dish.

  “I don’t typically get help with dishes. Mom cooks; I clean up.”

  “What does your dad do?”

  “When he’s home? He eats. And then watches TV. Whatever Georgia sport is on at the time.” Beth sighed and scrunched her face up. “Can we not talk about him?”

  I didn’t know how to feel about neither of them wanting to talk about this guy…what the hell kind of person was he? “Yeah, kid, of course.” I smiled and put my hand on her shoulder. She looked at it and then back at me. I moved it quickly. “Sorry.”

  “No,” Beth said with a chuckle. “It’s okay. I kinda thought…”

  “Thought what?” I asked. Beth started wiping the kitchen counter, and I could tell this was one of those moments she didn’t want to talk. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

  She stopped wiping and looked at me over her shoulder. “Okay,” she said softly and then went back to wiping. I made my way out of the kitchen and saw the front door was open. I walked over to it and pushed the screen door open. Susan was sitting on the porch swing, a cup of coffee in hand, her left leg pulled up under her.

  “Come. Have a seat.” Susan patted the open seat next to her.

  I walked out and sat on the swing. I looked around at how peaceful everything was. The air was heavy, but it wasn’t too hot, which was nice.

  Susan offered me her coffee cup. “Would you like some coffee?”

  I smiled as I took the cup and brought it up to my nose to breathe it in. “Is there Bailey’s in here?”

  She looked at me and smiled.

  God… That smile, with the crinkle at the corners of her eyes and those sexy as hell dimples, it was going to be the death of me. “My kind of coffee,” I said before I took a sip. It tasted delicious and was perfect for this night. “So, is your husband going to wonder why your daughter’s birth mom is camped out in the spare room?”

  Susan shrugged. “If he comes home, you mean. I don’t really care either way.”

  Man, was that a loaded statement or what? “I would love to ask what that means, but I fear I’m not the right person to confide in.”

  “It means what you think it means, Jackie,” Susan said and followed it with a deep sigh.

  “Is everything okay, Susan? I mean, I know I barely know you or Beth, but is…” I couldn’t find the words to ask her if Steven was abusive, but I was seriously getting that impression. It made my stomach roll when I thought about something bad happening to either of them.

  “He has never hurt Beth,” Susan whispered as her gaze landed on something across the street. “Don’t worry, okay?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Susan looked at me, and she seemed to be begging me to drop it. Whatever “it” was.

  I nodded. She broke our eye contact and I took a swallow of the coffee. It wasn’t nearly strong enough for this conversation.

  “I took time off because it was rough on our marriage. Me being gone all the time, him being gone all the time. It was rough.”

  “Has it helped?”

  “Is he home?”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” Susan leaned her head against the chain of the swing. I found myself holding back from touching her arm. It would be crossing a line for sure. But the connection I felt to this woman was so strange and intense. Was it Beth that connected us? Was it something else? I had no idea. All I knew was that when Susan touched my arm in the study, the feeling reminded me of falling or flying or maybe both.

  “Susan?”

  “Hmm?” She didn’t move but continued to swing us ever so gently.

  “You’ve done an amazing job with Beth.”

  She stopped the swing and looked over at me. “Yeah? You think so?”

  “Yes.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know her well, obviously, but from what I do know, she’s seems really great. Levelheaded, well put together, a good head on her shoulders. Catching rides from strangers aside.”

  “You should tell her that.” Susan moved her gaze and looked out across the street to the park. “She thinks you hate her.”

  What? Did she… Was that… What?

  “She’s a fragile soul. Her spirit is bright, but she wears her heart on her sleeve…”

  “Susan, I don’t hate her. How could I?”

  She laughed. It was small and delicate, but she laughed. “Oh, Jac
kie, I know,” she said as she looked over at me. “She’s not a mom. She doesn’t get it.”

  “I’m not a mom, either.”

  “Yes, you are.” Susan smiled. “If you weren’t, you would have let her hitchhike home.”

  “God,” I said softly. I looked down at my lap and tried to not cry. “I need to talk to her.”

  “She’s probably in her room. Upstairs. Third door on the right.” I stood and handed the coffee cup back to Susan. She waved it away. “You’re going to need it,” she said and winked. I almost dropped the cup.

  I turned and headed back in through the screen door. It was such an awesome house. The entryway was gorgeous, and the hardwood floors were so well done. Even the staircase was grand. I wondered if Beth ever slid down the railing as a rebellious youth? There was no way I could ever live in a house that beautiful. It’d make me feel small and insignificant.

  When I climbed the stairs, I noticed the pictures that lined the walls. They were of Beth and Susan, Susan and a man, who I assumed was Beth’s dad. There were a couple of them together and some of other people, probably family members. I couldn’t help but look at the picture of Susan and Beth. Even though their physical features were not similar, their smiles were.

  As I stood outside of Beth’s door, there was a moment that I wanted to turn and flee. Yesterday, I was fine. I was writing my next book, I was happy, I had friends and things to do, deadlines to meet. I did not need this. At all.

  Then I remembered Beth’s face when she first saw me. The light in her eyes and the way she bounced on the balls of her feet. It was so adorable. The way I acted, though. God, no wonder she thought I hated her.

  I raised my hand to knock on the door, and before I even got the full knock out, she was saying, “Come in.” I turned the knob and pushed the door open. Her room was immaculate. It was as big as my first apartment, kitchen and bathroom included. There were paintings all over the walls. Some were on paper, others on canvases of multiples sizes. She was sitting in a papasan chair over by the window, a giant pad open on her lap and a pencil in her hand.

  “Hi,” I said softly. “Am I interrupting?”