My chest ached, picturing Hudson as a little boy, only wanting to be loved by his parents, instead being used as a pawn. “Was it the same with Mira?”
“No. Hudson had already become Sophia’s rival by the time Mira came along. Sometimes I think he fought his mother just to keep his sister out of her focus.” This idea seemed to make Jack proud. “Now does that sound like the actions of a sociopath?”
“No. It doesn’t. But I already knew he wasn’t. He has too much love in him.” Or was I just fooling myself? If he really loved me, why couldn’t he say it?
I felt a presence come up behind me, and I turned, expecting to see Mira.
“What the fuck are you doing here with her?”
It wasn’t Jack’s daughter.
It was his wife.
Chapter Eight
Sophia’s fingers clutched the back of my chair. “Celia wasn’t enough? Now you have to steal this one from Hudson too?” Her voice was too loud, and people nearby were already starting to murmur.
Jack’s face said he was as surprised by his wife’s presence as I was. “Sophia. What are you doing here?”
“Spying on you, osbiviously.” She meant obviously, but her words were slurred and hard to understand. I’d never seen her that way. Never seen her that intoxicated.
“You’re drunk.”
“That’s illeverant. Irreverant.” Sophia slumped into Mira’s empty seat. “That doesn’t matter.”
“How did you even know to come looking for me here?”
Sophia smirked. “Mira. She told me she was having lunch with you. I decided to come to the lie. To see the lies. To hear your lies about me this time. Now the whole thing is a lie. You got your daughter covering for your cheating ass as well?”
“Mom?” This time the person behind me was who I was expecting.
Sophia reached for her daughter’s hand with both of hers. “Mira! Look who I found your father with now. Hudson’s new girl.”
Mira glanced around at the onlookers as she patted her mother’s hand. “Mom, Dad’s not with Alayna. He’s with me. I told you I’d be here. I was the one who invited Alayna.” She spoke to Sophia like she was a child.
Memories of helping my own drunken father swam to the surface of my mind. Public situations were the worst. At home, Dad could scream and cry and make a fool of himself. We’d let him pass out in his mess and clean him up later. When there were others around, we had to be responsible and hope he wouldn’t be completely humiliating.
Mira’s expression said she was hoping pretty damn hard for the same.
“You invited this whore?”
Too late—Sophia had already crossed to embarrassing. Though her attacks on me were fairly routine.
“I did invite her. I didn’t invite you. Why are you here?” Mira waited only a second before going on. “Never mind. Mom, you’re drunk. We need to get you home. Did you take a cab to get here?”
“No.”
“How did you get here?” Mira signaled to the waiter to bring our bill. It was admirable how take-charge she was. I guessed it was a role she was used to.
“Frank?” Sophia paused as if not sure that was the right answer. “Yes, Frank’s outside somewhere.”
“I’ll call him.” Jack was already pulling out his phone.
Mira bent down to her mother. “I’m going to walk you to the curb, okay?”
Jack stood. “No, Mira. Let me. Frank?” he spoke into his cell. “Sophia and I are ready to go home. Fine. We’ll be out there.” He pocketed his phone then moved to help Sophia stand.
“Did you drive yourself, Daddy?” Mira’s words were mundane, but her eyes were filled with gratitude.
“Yeah, my car’s with the valet.”
Sophia fell against Jack. She was passing out.
Mira gently slapped her mother’s face. “Mom, you’re almost there. Hang on ‘til you get to the car.” When Sophia roused, Mira said to Jack, “I took a cab. I’ll drive your car home for you.”
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a valet ticket. “Thank you, babydoll.”
Mira took the ticket and nodded. Then she collapsed in her chair.
I watched as Jack led Sophia out of the restaurant. There was love in the kind way he held her up, the way he supported her journey.
When I turned back to Mira, I found she was crying.
“Don’t mind me.” She waved at her face as if she could fan away her tears. “I cry at everything these days.”
“I think this was a valid thing to cry over.” I shifted in my chair. It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable with Mira’s emotion, but I wished I knew how to soothe her. The best I could come up with was putting a hand on her knee.
“Why? I should be used to this by now, shouldn’t I?”
I didn’t say anything. I knew she didn’t really want an answer—she wanted someone to listen. As for myself, I’d never gotten used to it. But Mira was older than I was when my father died. I probably would have expected to be used to it by then too.
Mira looked out toward the restaurant entrance. Even though her parents were long gone, I knew she was picturing them there. “I just keep thinking, this is going to be the grandma to my baby. Do I want my child to be exposed to this?”
God, I’d never thought about that. If Hudson and I had a kid…
I shook the thought off. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. I do know how hard it is to have an alcoholic parent—how embarrassing it is. Has she ever been to rehab?”
“No.” She laughed, like it was an inside joke of some kind. “She won’t even talk about it.”
“Have you forced her to talk about it? Like an intervention? I’m not saying they’re fun, or easy, but they can work. I’ve seen them work firsthand, actually.”
“With your father?”
“No. No one ever staged an intervention for him. I regret it often. I wonder if things would be different if…” How many times had I wondered if my mother could have changed something? If his boss and his friends and Brian and I and our mother had sat him down and demanded change. Could that have saved his life? Saved my mother’s life?
I’d never know the answer. “Anyway. That’s the past. But I was talking about me.” I cleared my throat, surprised that I was sharing something so personal with someone I admired. “I had an intervention pulled on me.”
“What? When? For drinking?” My confession seemed to shock Mira out of crying.
“For obsessing over relationships, actually. I didn’t have many people in my life that cared for me at the time, but I’d gotten arrested, and—”
“Wait a minute—for obsessing?”
I watched my hands wringing in my lap. “For stalking.” I peeked up to see Mira open-mouthed. “I know. Embarrassing.” I swallowed my humiliation and focused on the goal of sharing my story. “Anyway, my brother and a couple of friends I had back then that have since all abandoned me because I was a total shit to each and every one of them, well, they sat me down and convinced me to seek help. Honestly, I only went because if I didn’t agree, it would have been jail time. But having them gathered like that—hearing that people cared what I did and what happened to me—it meant a lot.”
Mira put a hand to her mouth. “Alayna, I didn’t know.” Her eyes glistened still from her tears, but I could see something else as well—not disgust, like I would have expected, but compassion. “You’ve hinted at a rocky past, but…I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. Why would you?”
“I guess I wouldn’t.”
“My point in telling you is that I’ve learned through all my therapy that most addictions are really just a cry for love. And the crazy thing is that the more you’re addicted to something, the harder it is to look up and see all the love there is around you. For the one outside, it can be tough to break through. But sometimes you can break through. As long as you’re willing to try.”