The Perfect Mistress (16 page)

E
veryone thought Joyce was crazy, and sometimes she did a little dance with crazy, but she was very much in her right mind. Well, except for when she forgot things, which she seemed to be doing a lot of lately, thanks to the damn chemo. That's why she had balled up the letter she'd just received from the resident psychiatrist, urging her to set up an appointment to talk. Joyce had spent sixty-three years
not
talking about her business, and she wasn't about to start now.

As a little girl she had dreams of being the perfect wife. The perfect mother. And she thought she had her perfect life the day she said “I do.” She just had no idea that perfect man would be at the center of all of her pain. Standing right next to him in the middle of that pain-filled circle was the woman strutting across the parking lot, heading in Joyce's direction.

She watched Lauren from the window of her room. Her daughter was the spitting image of her. From her chestnut brown, naturally curly hair, to her high cheekbones and caramel-hued skin. Even her toned body and curves were a direct replica of Joyce thirty years ago. Lauren was so much like her in some ways and so unlike her in others.

For starters, Joyce would have never betrayed her mother.
She'd fought hard to find her way back to a happy place, or at least a place of forgiveness. Some days were better than others. Every day was hard. And so far she hadn't been able to get in the same neighborhood as happy, let alone the same address. Even after more than fifteen years she hadn't been able to forgive her child for helping her husband break her heart.

She continued watching as Lauren opened the front door to the facility. She darted across the room and plopped back down into her chair, acting like she had been engrossed in a Lifetime movie about a cheating husband.

“Hello, Mother,” Lauren said, walking into the room.

“Hi.” She kept watching the TV.

Lauren set her purse down on the bed—some expensive, overpriced number Joyce was sure she had screwed some man to get.

“I hope we're going to have a good day,” Lauren said.

Joyce finally turned to look at her. She gave that smile that said, “I'm here even though I don't want to be.” On one hand, Joyce felt like telling her to stop visiting, since neither of them wanted her here. But on the other hand, Joyce wanted her daughter to suffer. Suffer like she had suffered. And if Joyce was completely honest with herself, sometimes she enjoyed having Lauren here. Sometimes she forgot about what her daughter did and relished her company. Sometimes, though the times were few and far between, Joyce had glimpses of when she used to truly love her child.

After graduating from college, Lauren had moved to Florida to work for a small marketing firm. She'd used the distance as an excuse for the distance between them. When she'd moved back to Raleigh eight years ago, Joyce thought maybe
their relationship would get better. But if anything, seeing her made the bitterness grow.

Joyce felt a twinge of discomfort. She didn't have any other real visitors. Her sister-in-law, Velma, visited occasionally. Her son, her baby, her pride and joy, Julian, came when he could, but he was very busy with his job and his family. He was big-time in the military. Not to mention the fact that he lived hundreds of miles away. And since Joyce had never gotten around to having those five children she'd wanted, she had to settle for just her one girl as a visitor to this dump.

“What are you watching?” Lauren said.

Joyce shrugged. “Some movie on Lifetime.”

“I don't know why you watch that depressing station,” she said, sitting down.

“What else am I going to do in this godforsaken place?” Joyce cut eyes at her and she could feel Lauren take a short breath.

“Well, I was thinking today that I could take you out. Maybe we could go get some tea. I saw a nice little coffee shop on the way in. I think the name was the Coffee Grind.”

“The health department said they had rat droppings.”

“Okay,” Lauren said, wincing as though from a blow. “Maybe we can find some other place.”

For the first time Joyce fully noticed what she was wearing. “Why are you all dressed up?” she asked, taking in her sleek black pants and sheer blouse, which looked like they cost way more than she could afford on a jewelry designer's salary. “I know you didn't do all that for me.”

She flashed a brittle smile. “Actually, I have a date when I leave here.”

“Hmph. A date? With whom?”

“You don't know him, Mother.”

Lauren didn't share much of her personal life. Never had. “So, any future with this one? I would like some grandkids before I die.”

“You have grandkids,” Lauren said wearily.

“I'd like some from you.” Joyce had issues with her daughter, but she would've gladly taken her kids.

“Okay, can we not have this discussion?”

“It's the least you can do since you destroyed my life.”

She huffed like she knew that was coming. “You know what,” she stood, “I didn't come here to be berated by you.”

“How is that berating you? Asking for grandkids?”

Lauren looked like she was fed up. That happened awfully fast. She usually lasted ten minutes before she got that way. “Mama, I don't understand why we can't have one good visit without you coming down on me, saying something smart, or sarcastic, or ugly.”

Joyce shrugged nonchalantly. “I'm still trying to figure out how me asking for grandkids translates to all of this.” Then Joyce did what she did best: put on her victim face. “I know we have our issues, but it's like everything I say, you just take offense and get all irritated with me.”

Lauren's shoulders drooped, and an apologetic expression filled her face. “Okay, I'm sorry,” she said. “Can we just start over?”

Joyce took a long look at her daughter. Start over? After the hell they'd been through, she didn't know how that would ever be possible. But she didn't feel like fighting, so she simply stood and said, “Fine, let's go get tea like a perfect mother and daughter.”

J
ust once Lauren wanted to leave a visit with her mother not feeling stressed. Vivian said Lauren was a glutton for punishment for continuing these visits, and Lauren was starting to think that her friend was right.

“There's no way I could let that woman torture me like she does you,” Vivian had told her just last night.

But as much as Lauren wanted to turn her back, she simply couldn't. The woman had loved her, taken care of her. Lauren hadn't taken sides with her father, not really, despite what her mother said.

When she'd moved home after working in Miami—a place she didn't really care for because it was too fast for her taste—Lauren had hoped that she and her mother could rebuild their relationship. Save the occasional “how's school?” phone calls, they had been estranged for years.

Lauren's father had left her some money, which she'd gotten on her twenty-eighth birthday, and her mother had even resented that. Lauren had resolved that her mother was just happy wallowing in bitterness.

Lauren decided to push aside thoughts of her mother as she continued to navigate the hilly terrain leading back into Raleigh. Her favorite Jill Scott anthem came on and she
pumped up the volume. She was completely into the lyrics when the music was interrupted by the navigation system on her car alerting her to an incoming call. Lauren smiled when she saw Lewis's number.

Lewis Cole was an investment banker who loved flying her to places like Rome, Paris, or Fiji—when he could pull himself away from his overbearing wife.

She pushed the
ACCEPT
button. “Hello?” she sang.

“Hey, sexy.” His bass-filled voice boomed through the car's intercom system. “How are you today?”

“Fabulous as always. Better now that I'm hearing from you, Daddy,” Lauren purred. That was one of the tricks she learned from the women who stroked her father's ego. For some reason, that got men going. So she made it her mission to always stroke their ego. “But I would be doing a lot better if you were driving me down this hillside.”

Lewis was a powerful man who enjoyed being in a position to do things for her. So she made him feel like she was a lot more helpless than she really was.

“Whoo. I wish I was there, too, honey. And later, I want to hear all the things you would do for me if I were. But I'm running into this meeting. I saw that you called me earlier, and since you don't normally call, I was just checking to see what's up.”

She envisioned him multitasking as he talked to her.

“Yes, I called.” Lauren's voice was dripping with sweetness. “I just wanted to remind you what today is.”

He paused, like he was thinking. “Am I supposed to be doing something for you?”

“No, babe. Umm, it's your anniversary.”

“Doggone it,” he huffed. “I told Emily to remind me of that.”

Lauren knew that his incompetent secretary would forget,
which is why she made it her business to remember. That just made him more indebted to her. “Saks just got a new line of Christian Louboutin nude shoes in. You should get her that.”

“Great, I'll call right now.”

Lauren was confident that when Lewis called Saks to order the shoes for his wife, he'd place an extra order for her, too.

“You know, you are something else,” Lewis said, sounding relieved. “I tell you. Not many women would keep track of another woman's anniversary like that.”

“I just want you to have a happy home so that when you come to see me, you have no worries,” she cooed.

“And that's why I'm going to keep coming to see you. Hold on a second.” He bellowed for Emily.

“You're an important man who is stressed enough as it is,” Lauren said once he came back on the line. “You don't need extra stress at home.”

“I don't know what I would do without you,” he said. She could hear the adoration in his voice.

Oh, her gift was as good as on its way.

“Okay. I gotta go. I'll talk to you soon,” Lewis said.

“Bye, sweetie. See you soon.”

Lauren hung up the phone. She smiled, but noticed that she wasn't as satisfied as she normally was when she got something from a man. She couldn't find the word to describe what she was feeling inside.

As she drove a little more, the word came to her.
Unfulfilled.
She felt unfulfilled. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming desire to call Matthew.

“That's not good,” she mumbled to herself—even as she picked up the phone to dial his number.

I
want to see you.”

Those were the first words Matthew uttered after “Hello.”

They made Lauren both smile and frown at the same time. She both loved and hated that she was drawn back to Matthew so.

Yet when he asked her to meet him on campus, she hadn't hesitated. Sybrina Fulton, the mother of Trayvon Martin—a black teenager killed by a man who thought he looked suspicious—was speaking on campus, and Matthew thought she'd enjoy the lecture. Lauren wasn't into socially conscious issues like she should be, but that case had fascinated her—especially after the man who killed Trayvon was found not guilty—so she thought it would be interesting to hear his mother speak.