“Your father and I had been dating for nearly six months—and I will admit, when we first started seeing one another, I had dollar signs in my eyes. But as I got to know him, I found myself falling in love with him. He was far kinder and sweeter than any man I’d ever known, and not just because he was looking to get in my pants. He was considerate to everyone he met, from nightclub impresarios to the hatcheck girl. He was also smart, funny, a good dancer, and an excellent lover. . . .”
“Mom! Ick! Too much information!”
“Honestly, Timmy,” she said, patting her hair to make sure it was still in place, something she did whenever she was embarrassed. “You know damn well your generation didn’t invent premarital sex! Anyway, one evening your father and I went to a charity gala for some museum or hospital, I suppose. Anyway, we were ballroom dancing and I was enjoying myself so much, I completely lost track of time. Then I looked down and realized I was no longer wearing Chanel, but an off-the-rack shift from Filene’s Basement, and my matching pearl necklace and earrings had turned back into cheap paste knockoffs!
“I looked into Timothy’s eyes and I saw surprise, then confusion. The couples closest to us were openly snickering. Although I was fully clothed, I’d never been any more naked than I was at that moment. I had been revealed as a No-Knickers, and now they knew I wasn’t one of them. I bolted from the dance floor and fled the building. Timothy and I had arrived at the ball in a chauffeured limousine, but there I was, running off into the night on foot all by myself. I ended up taking the subway back to my neighborhood.
“I was so devastated; I was crying so hard I couldn’t see. The man I loved now knew the woman he thought he had been courting for the last six months didn’t truly exist, and that I had lied to him about who and what I was. I’d had a chance at landing my very own Prince Charming, only to fail in the most spectacularly humiliating way imaginable. I returned to my dismal little studio apartment and didn’t go outside for two days.
“Then, on the third day, there was a knock on my door. I was sure it was the landlord, wanting to know where his rent was. But when I opened the door, instead of the landlord, I saw your father standing there, holding a huge bouquet of flowers! He’d tracked me down by talking to the producer who had taken me to the after-party. He told me he didn’t care if I was rich or poor—as long as I was me. But once he returned home, my insecurity got the better of me again. I began to worry that his parents might pressure him into marrying someone with more social standing.
“So I made one last call to Mistress Syra. I didn’t have much in the way of money, but I figured since I had grossly overpaid her with the tennis bracelet, I might have a little leeway. I told her I wanted a love potion; one that would make me the unquestioned queen of Timothy’s heart. The love potion she crafted was odorless and colorless, perfect for being slipped into food or drink, and I put it in his champagne while he wasn’t looking.
“I am not proud of what I did—in fact, I regretted doing it within moments of pouring it in his glass. But there was no going back, and I was genuinely terrified of losing him. Not so much to another woman, mind you, but to his sense of responsibility to his family. If your father is anything, he’s a dutiful Eresby. That very night he proposed to me. It should have been the happiest moment of my life, but it seemed so terribly hollow. It was like I had won a long distance marathon by cheating at the last mile.
“But what really worried me was the fact the love potion, like all magic, would eventually wear off. Of course I could always buy another vial and dose him again, but I had learned my lesson from the No-Knickers spell. I knew I’d end up paying a fortune every other week for potions of ever-decreasing strength.
“I decided the best plan would be for me to steer clear of any more magic and simply make myself indispensable to your father. I thought that if I became the perfect high-society wife, he might stay married to me once the potion wore off, or even fall in love with me for real. So I threw myself into doing all the things expected of me: organizing charity balls, lunching with the right ladies, and keeping myself a size two—and I haven’t stopped since.”
“And did it? Wear off, that is?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “In the thirty-five years we’ve been married, your father’s feelings for me have not changed in the least. That just means every morning I wake up wondering if this is the day I’ll find him looking at me as if I was a stranger.”
She paused for a moment and when she looked at me her face softened and lost its usual reserve, which I had come to view as its default expression. Up until a half hour ago, I thought my mother was just another socialite with a drinking problem who spent her life doing nothing but shopping, gossiping, and dieting, but now I was seeing a whole different person I had never dreamed existed.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been the mother I should have been to you, Timmy. I was so busy imitating the high-society women around me in order to fit in, I copied all their failings, too. Part of me has always been . . . distant toward you, through no fault of your own. Perhaps it’s because I was never close to my own mother, or because I’m unsure whether you were conceived in love—or something else. Whatever the reason, it’s no excuse for me handing you over to others to raise.” She suddenly leaned forward and grasped my forearm, clutching it tightly, like a drowning woman grabbing the hand of a rescuer. It was the closest she had come to hugging me in years. “I know I don’t show it the way I should, but never, ever doubt for a moment that I love you, Timmy. I have everything I ever dreamed of when I was candling eggs and milking goats on my parents’ farm: a rich husband, a wonderful home, fast cars and fashionable clothes, and a beautiful and talented daughter. But I got it through trickery, and now I’m paying the price through my child.”
“Mom—I don’t know what to say,” I said, shaking my head in amazement. “I had no idea. . . .”
“Of course you didn’t. What mother wants to admit that she cheated her way into marriage? Or that she let her own insecurity get in the way of raising her child? Much less that her dabbling in magic has turned her only daughter into a . . . a . . .”
“‘Weirdo’?” I suggested helpfully. “Mom, you’ve got to stop beating yourself up over this. My magic powers have nothing to do with whatever potions you swallowed or spritzed on yourself, decades ago. I know for a fact that I’m not the only human in Golgotham who has been affected. I’m not a hundred percent sure why I’m able to do magic now, but I do know that none of this is your fault.”
My mother smiled and gave a half laugh and half sob as she daubed at the tears returning to her eyes.
“And, Mom? I like this story of how you and Dad met a lot better than the old one.”
“Thank you for saying that, sweetheart. Your father and I will always love you, no matter what, but, I beg you, never bring the silverware to life again. We have to eat with those things.”
As I headed back to my room, I kept thinking about everything my mother had said. It was the first time in our shared lives that she had spoken to me as a fellow adult, instead of a child. The mythology of my childhood had been blown apart, but, to my surprise, I was cool with it. So my textile tycoon grandfather didn’t really exist—big deal. I never met him in the first place. But now I know where my artistic streak came from—my ex-showgirl mother! It almost made up for the news that the only reason my father asked her to marry him was because she slipped him a love potion.