The Secret Lives of Housewives (27 page)

She pulled off her gloves, stuffed them in her coat pocket, and turned. “Brittany, I don't ask that you look at me or speak to me, I just want you to listen. When I'm done, you can do what you want with the information.”

Eve watched her daughter sit stonily, arms and legs crossed, face turned away. She took a deep breath. She knew she had to do this, wanted to do this. “As you've probably guessed, or maybe your mom told you, I'm your birth mother. You've always known you were adopted and I know that your mother told you nothing about me, as I requested when I gave you to her.”

She could see resentment in every line of Brittany's body. Her shoulders were tight with suppressed anger and she remained totally silent. “Let me tell you how it all happened. I was sixteen, the age you are now. I won't make excuses for anything. I made a lot of mistakes and did a lot of things I'm not proud of. My parents were difficult to get along with, impossible to talk to about anything. They were much older than my friends' parents and I think, decided to have a baby because they were having marital problems and thought I would bring them closer together. I didn't. I kept them together, but drove them emotionally far apart.” Eve stood in the center of the room, hands clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking.

“They both worked in the city and resented any time they had to spend with me while I was growing up. I had nannies until I was about ten, then I became a latchkey kid. That's no excuse for anything that came later but I can tell you that I was lonely. Terribly, terribly lonely. I thought I was grown up, and the first boy who made me believe he cared about me and wanted to be with me, well, I let him have sex with me. We didn't use protection. I will regret that to my dying day.” She heard the last sentence and quickly corrected any misinterpretation. “I don't regret you, not at all, just the problems that the whole thing created.”

Brittany's shoulders had relaxed a bit but she remained facing the kitchen, her back to Eve. Eve pulled off her glasses and polished them on her shirt, then took a deep breath and continued. “When I realized I was pregnant I went to him, but he couldn't have cared less. He taunted me, wondering whether it was indeed his baby. I was probably doing half the guys in school, he told me. I knew it was his, but I couldn't fight him and I guess I didn't want to. None of this was his fault, really, it was my own stupidity. If you're curious, he went off to college and his parents moved away. He never did come back to Westchester. I can give you the little information I have if you want to try to get in touch with him.”

Her daughter didn't move. “I loved that first few months. You were mine, a part of me, and with you in my life I'd never be lonely again. I deliberately waited until it was too late to end the pregnancy, and when I was about four months along I finally told my parents.”

Eve huffed out a breath, remembering the screaming scene her folks had created. “Needless to say, they were furious. When the rage let up, they insisted that I give you up. I wanted to protest, but they convinced me that I couldn't take care of you and they didn't want to be burdened with yet another unwanted child. Eventually I admitted to myself that I couldn't take care of you alone and they made it plain that I'd never get any help from them.”

Not censoring her words, Eve charged on. “My dad knew someone who knew a lawyer who arranged what was called an open adoption. I met Larry and Michelle, your parents, and I liked them a lot. They couldn't have children of their own and they wanted you very much.”

Brittany whirled around on the sofa and spat out, “How could you do that? You gave me away. I couldn't give my baby away.” She folded her legs up in front of her and dropped her head on her knees. “I couldn't.”

When her daughter started to cry, Eve wanted to go to her, but it was too soon. She had to finish what she needed to say. “I would hope that your parents would be more supportive than mine were. I did what I felt I had to do and I don't regret it. I would have liked to watch you grow up, but I wouldn't have been a good mother, not the little girl I was then. My folks would have abandoned me, so I'd have had to work and leave you with strangers. I wouldn't do that to you. Was I wrong? I don't know, but it's done now.” Tears were flowing freely down Eve's face and she waited a moment until she could continue.

“When we met in the lawyer's office I asked your parents for two things. First, I wanted you to know you were adopted from the beginning, and I didn't want them to tell you who I was. I reasoned that it would have been too confusing for you and I was really just a child myself. And I wanted you to be named Brittany. I always loved that name and that's what I'd been calling you while you grew inside of me.”

“Why didn't you ever want to see me?” Eve could tell that Brittany was still weeping, too.

Eve heaved a shaky sigh. “I was afraid. When you were a baby I didn't want to be tempted to change my mind, and as you grew I didn't know how you'd react, or how I would. Your folks sent me pictures of you once or twice a year so I'd know how you were doing, with letters about your schooling. I assume they were good parents.”

Her face still lowered, shoulders shaking, Brittany said, “They were. They were my mom and dad.”

“They still are. Nothing I've said will change that. The fact that you happen to have my blood means nothing. They were and are your parents. They held your head when you were sick, celebrated your wonderful grades, and worried when you had your tonsils out. Yes, I know about that. I sat in the waiting room until your mom told me you were doing fine.”

“You were there?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“What do you want from me?”

“Nothing that you don't want to give.”

“You're not my mother. Not really.”

“I know, and I regret that more than you will ever imagine. I missed so much.” She couldn't smother her weeping. “I'd like to spend some time with you but if you don't want to, that's your choice. I can only offer.”

“Why would I want to do that? Why would you want to spend time with me? Why now, all of a sudden?”

“I had a health scare recently. It really shook me up.” She didn't want to use her illness as a lever to push them together so she'd decided to say very little about it. Brittany raised her head and looked genuinely concerned. “I'm sure I'm going to be fine, but while I was answering all the health questions about my family history, I realized you would never have that history if I didn't contact you.”

Brittany continued to stare at her. “Is that the only reason?”

“Okay, I was scared, too. It really shook me up and I wanted to touch someone who was my blood. My folks died several years ago, and I've got no other family. So here I am.

“I've made plenty of mistakes over the years, but not trying to see you was a biggie. I'd like an opportunity to make up for that. The things I've told you aren't excuses, just explanations. I hope you'll talk this over with your folks and maybe your best girlfriends and decide that we might have pizza together someday. But if you don't want to, I'll understand and I won't contact you again.”

“I can't call you Mother. What's your name?” Brittany asked and Eve laughed, the first real laugh she'd had since the doctor told her about the lump. “It's Eve. Eve DeMilo, like the statue.”

When Brittany remained silent, Eve took a card from her purse. She'd written her home, work, and cell phone numbers on it. She handed it to her daughter, then walked to the door. She'd never even taken her coat off. “I hope you'll decide to call me sometime. I care about you.” She felt herself starting to break down so she pulled out her gloves and slowly put one on. “I love you.”

Brittany remained on the sofa, staring at her. “I'll think about it.”

“Good.”

“Eve?” Brittany said as Eve opened the front door. “I really will think about it.”

H
uckleberry's was festively decorated for Christmas and although it was a week away, everyone was in a particularly joyous holiday mood. The four women sat in their usual booth as the red- and green-clad waitress put a cup of decaf coffee in front of Angie, and one laced with Bailey's in front of each of the other women. “Not like diner coffee, is it?” Monica said.

Angie picked up the steaming cup and inhaled the heavy fragrance. “Not in the least.”

“Remember that first lunch, with that awful coffee?” Cait said. “Part of me feels like it was years ago, but another says it was only yesterday.”

Monica sipped. “You know, I didn't really hate that coffee. Saying it was just something to break the ice.”

“You, too?” Eve said. “I was sort of nervous. I'd never been much for women friends before then.” She'd finally unwound after her scare. Fortunately the lump had proved to be benign.

“Are we getting maudlin already?” Cait said, setting her cup down. “This is supposed to be a Christmas party.”

“And it will be,” Eve replied, reaching beneath the table and pulling out a small red and green gift bag. “I think I've been ladylike and patient long enough. It's time for presents.”

“God, I thought no one was getting antsy besides me,” Angie said, putting a shiny silver gift bag on the table. Cait followed suit. They had agreed on a Secret Santa format, so they drew names from a hat and were only permitted to buy something for the person whose name they picked.

Monica pulled a shopping bag from beneath the table and pulled out three small gold boxes. “I violated the rules. Well, partly anyway. I got the Secret Santa gift, but I got each of you something, too.”

“Not fair,” Cait said, grabbing the box. “But I do love presents.”

“Me, too,” Eve said, untying the white satin bow and pulling the top from the box. Inside each was a small sprig of baby's breath, the small white flowers lying on a bed of ferns. Puzzled, Eve looked at Monica and cocked her head to one side.

“I want each of you to be a bridesmaid, along with Bonnie and Janet.”

Eve squealed. “You and Dan? Truly?”

“No,” Monica said with deep sarcasm, “me and Mick Jagger. Yes, me and Dan. In March, we think, but don't get your hopes up. No matching dresses. It will be a small wedding, his family and mine, and a few friends. You do get matching flowers, however.”

The women spent the next few minutes making a large fuss about the impending wedding. The issue of trust was never mentioned.

Eventually the women put their gifts in their laps, and in an attempt to keep the giver a secret, wrapped each in a Huckleberry's napkin and dropped them into Monica's shopping bag. “Okay, since Monica gave us these first, she gets hers first.” Cait dumped the contents of the shopping bag on the table and found the package with Monica's name on it.

Monica opened the small box and withdrew a small gold key with a ring and tag attached. “For the executive washroom,” the tag said, and they all laughed. Her partnership would be made official after the first of the year. The partners had told her informally that she had always been an asset to Conroy & Bates and now she'd have her name on the letterhead. She'd managed to balance her work schedule with her life with Dan and it was working out perfectly. She assumed that Harrison Conroy didn't have as much power as he'd told her he had.

Cait took her package and unwrapped it. “A gift certificate to Match.com and a book,” she announced, laughing, “called
Being Newly Single in the Twenty-First Century
. Very appropriate. It will certainly come in handy.”

“How's Logan doing?”

“He's having a difficult time dealing with his sexuality, but he's getting counseling.”

“Is he still living with you?”

“In another bedroom, of course, but we're the best of friends now and I'm trying to help him adjust. I really care about him and I can't just turn that off.”

“Of course not,” Angie said. “Okay, me next.” She took a box from the table and untied the ribbon. Inside the box was an envelope. Inside that was a folder. “It's a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure, with baby-sitting thrown in. How wonderful! A present is supposed to be something you'd never buy for yourself, and this is perfect.” She was obviously delighted. “I'll have to do it soon, because by spring I won't be able to appreciate it, not seeing my feet around my big belly and all.” Her pregnancy was just starting to show and she and Tony were relieved that, according to Angie's obstetrician, it wasn't going to be a multiple birth this time. “Tony's going back to the Bronx,” she'd told them a few weeks before. “It's what he wants to do, and although it makes me a bit nervous, I'll support him.”

“Have they made another settlement offer?”

“The city's offer is really wonderful, but we're leaving it all up to the union's lawyer. Whatever it turns out to be, it will give us a little cushion and put a good chunk away for the children's education.”

Cait sipped her coffee, then said, “Okay, Eve, it's your turn.”

Eve's envelope contained a gift certificate, as well. “For a full set of family photos. The note says that it's for Brittany and me. How wonderful,” she said, beaming. She and Brittany had met several times and had been spending more and more time together. At first it had been awkward, but soon they were sharing secrets like old friends. They had already spent two afternoons at Eve's watching movies. Eve had almost cried when she found out that Brittany loved train whistles.

Cait lifted her cup in a toast. “To the last six months, and to learning what real friends are for.”

The other three clinked their cups against hers and sipped. “The last six months have been quite something,” Monica said. “Who'd have thought that four such ordinary women could have such amazing times?”

“Yeah,” Eve said. “Mike and Brittany for me, Hotguy and Logan for Cait, Mr. Conroy and Dan for Monica, and Tony and the new baby for Angie, it's been quite a ride. Who'd have thought we'd reveal so many secrets, and discover that, in the telling, we'd all gain so much?”

Angie raised her cup again. “To us. To the women of East Hudson.”

Monica lifted her cup. “To the secret lives of the wives and mothers of East Hudson.”

Dear Reader,

I hope you've enjoyed reading
The Secret Lives of Housewives
as much as I enjoyed writing it. When I complete a novel, I miss the characters a great deal and I will miss these four ladies more than most. You never know—one or more of them might show up in a future book.

Please drop me a note at [email protected] and let me know which of the women you'd most like to meet. You can also reach me at Joan Elizabeth Lloyd, P.O. Box 221, Yorktown Heights, NY 10598, but snail mail takes quite a bit longer for me to answer.

I've written quite a few other books that you might enjoy. Please check my Web site at www.JoanELloyd.com, for excerpts from all of them, in addition to advice about sex and relationships, letters from other visitors, and so much more. I look forward to your visit.