Page 37 of Room for Us
She snorts. “That sounds like something Barb would say.”
She did say it.
“Well, it’s true. I still don’t know exactly why he’s in Sun River, but it doesn’t seem like it’s a happy reason. He’s…” Fascinating. Moody. Aloof. “… an odd one. He barely spoke a civil word to me for three days, demanded I purchase an espresso machine for him and fancy new sheets, and randomly decided he hates halibut. You know how hard I worked on that recipe! Anyway, he was a total ass, but then yesterday he started being nice. I can’t wrap my head around him.”
“Hmm.” She sits back, expression thoughtful as she reads between my lines. “He sounds like a complicated man.”
“I had a sex dream about him last night.”
“I see.”
I glare at her. “That’s all you’ve got? I’m having a mental breakdown and you say, ‘I see’?”
“Honey, you’re not having a mental breakdown. You’re processing the dissolution of your marriage. Is it possible your sexual feelings for this man might feel like a betrayal of Chris?”
I scoff. “Absolutely not.”
“Then perhaps what you’re struggling with is the attraction itself. He doesn’t sound like the type of man you normally gravitate toward. In conjunction with the massive shifts taking place in your life, it must add a new level of uncertainty and fear.”
The emotional knot in my chest loosens a tad, just enough to let some truth out. “That rings true,” I admit hoarsely. “Mom, I don’t know who I am right now. Everything I’m doing, feeling… it’s all new. I don’t have anything to hold onto.”
“Oh, honey.” She grabs my hand, squeezing it between hers. “Feelings are powerful, I know, but they don’t always align with facts. You have so much to hold onto, a support system far deeper and wider than you think. The hardest—and most rewarding—thing to do is opening your arms to that support. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here.”
“I know,” I murmur. “Thanks.”
“Always. Now, about your guest. There’s nothing wrong with fantasy. You’re a vibrant, sensitive woman with a healthy sex drive, and from the rumors, I take it he’s very good-looking. Given that you two are alone in Rose House together, it’s perfectly normal that you’d develop a level of pseudo-intimacy. Fantasies are normal and healthy. In fact, sex is normal and healthy too.”
It takes a second for her meaning to sink in. “What? Are you actually saying I should sleep with him if I want to? Isn’t that a gross breach of professional ethics? He’s a paying customer! What the hell, Mom!”
“I didn’t say you should sleep with him.” She gives me an exaggerated wink. “That wouldn’t be responsible advice for a therapist to give.”
I roll my eyes skyward. “Oh my God. What is even happening right now?”
Mom laughs softly, then sighs. “To be honest, Zo, I’ve been going through some changes as well. Grieving Barb, and missing her fiercely, I’ve felt a new calling to live more like she did. Embrace more joy, laugh more, express myself more freely. Essentially be truer to myself. It’s like I have a piece of her inside me. Maybe you do, too.”
You have no freaking idea.
“I’m not screwing my first guest just because you’ve adopted Aunt B’s obsession with the seventies. Give me the name of a different therapist. You’re fired.”
Mom laughs so hard her eyes water. “I love you, sweetie. You’re going to be just fine. Where should we go for lunch?”
23
When I return to Rose House after lunch, Ethan is nowhere to be found. I can’t say I’m sorry about it, especially after my mom’s shocking advice, which she happily reiterated over BLTs. Whatever she says, there’s no way I’m jumping my guest, regardless of whether or not I’m chemically inclined to do so.
I won’t overlook his initial behavior just because he’s putting on a good show the past two days. And I’m not some weak-willed damsel who melts at the first post-breakup man to show an interest. Ridiculous. I’m better than that. Or I’d like to pretend I am.
Aunt B chimes in, “For what it’s worth, I agree with your mother. She’s a smart woman.”
“She’s out of her mind. And I thought you were on my side?”
“He’s growing on me. I like the way he smiles at you.”
“Bah. Leave me alone.”
She does. For a few minutes, anyway.
The Do Not Disturb sign is finally off the knob of the Lavender Room, so I bring up my bucket of cleaning supplies and get to work, studiously ignoring my desire to linger. And I definitely don’t smell the Ethan-scented sheets as I strip the bed, because that would be creepy.
