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.”