The Good Wife(40)
Lauren was twenty when her mom said it might be okay for her to start dating again.
She was twenty-one when her dad casually mentioned that the valley was full of decent young men who might make good husband and father material.
Lauren wasn’t interested. She couldn’t imagine dating anyone.
Her grandmother sat her down one day after church and, holding Lauren’s hands, told her not to hate, that it wasn’t good for her to hang on to anger. “Let the bitterness go, dear,” Grandma Summer had said. “Don’t let it fester inside.”
Lauren let her grandmother talk, keeping her expression blank. How little her family knew her.
Lauren didn’t hate John. No, at twenty-one, she was still hoping John would come back and claim her, and their son.
He didn’t. But she hoped. And dreamed.
Lisa moved home almost a year later, after an office romance soured, leaving her brokenhearted.
Dad and Mom welcomed her home. For a summer they all lived together: Dad, Mom, Lauren, Lisa, and Blake. By fall they were all getting on each other’s nerves.
Lauren had her jobs in town, and Lisa had been working with Dad on the ranch, but the small farmhouse just wasn’t big enough for them to continue as they were.
One evening in late October, after Blake and their parents had gone to bed, Lisa and Lauren sat bundled in jackets by the outdoor fire pit talking smack and drinking wine.
It felt good to let their hair down a little. Things had been stressful all month. Lisa had begun missing the freedom she knew in Los Angeles and Lauren was exhausted juggling two jobs and an active little boy.
“Something has to give,” Lisa said restlessly, holding up the wine bottle and discovering it was nearly empty. “Can’t stay here much longer. But don’t really want to go back to L.A.”
“Are you thinking of moving?”
“I’m twenty-four, almost twenty-five. It’s embarrassing being back home, living with Mom and Dad.”
Lauren sighed, shoving a hand through her long hair to push it off her face. “I feel the same way.”
“Would you want to move with me to Los Angeles?”
Lauren couldn’t imagine taking her son away from Napa. “Mom and Dad would miss Blake, and he’d miss them.”
“So you’re going to just stay here forever?”
Lauren didn’t answer immediately. “I’m thinking when Blake starts kindergarten next year, I’m going to try to get my own place.”
“Can you really do that . . . financially?”
“I’m hoping. It’s a stretch.”
“Kind of hard on part-time jobs, huh?”
“Yeah. But it is what it is. And at least this way I get to spend a big chunk of each day with Blake.”
“You’re a good mom.”
“He’s a good boy.”
Lisa glanced over her shoulder, back at the house, where everyone was tucked in bed, sleeping. “Yes, he is. And he’s beautiful, you know. His dark hair, those blue eyes.”
Lauren smiled wistfully. “He looks like his dad.”
“Hopefully that’s all he inherits from his dad, because Meeks is a first-class asshole.”
Lauren shrugged. “People change.”
“John Meeks hasn’t changed.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Oh, has he finally called? Decided to acknowledge his four-and-a-half-year-old son?” Lisa caught sight of Lauren’s unhappy expression and groaned in exasperation. “What? It’s the truth!”
“It’s just . . . harsh.”
Lisa swore under her breath and kicked at the fire pit with the toe of her boot. “I’ve tried to respect your feelings. I try not to judge, but, Lauren, come on. He’s not a good guy. He’s given you nothing but heartache, and he’s not ever going to magically transform from jerk into prince!”
“Maybe not.”
“Maybe?”
“I don’t know, Lisa. I just can’t help thinking that if John saw Blake, if he saw how amazing Blake is, and how sweet he is, he’d want to be part of his life—”
“You mean, John would want to be part of your life.”
Lauren flushed and closed her eyes, tucking her chin into the collar of her coat, not saying anything.
Lisa couldn’t stand it. She swore and leaned forward. “John Meeks is a self-centered asshole who can’t love anyone but himself. You deserve better. You and Blake both deserve more.”
“I just want Blake to have a family,” Lauren whispered.
“Blake has us. What more does he need?”
The pressure grew in Lauren’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. “A father.”
Lisa didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She refilled her wineglass and took a sip, and then another, and another, struggling to contain her anger.