The Vibrant Years(70)

Even when Bindu and Aly had informed her that they were done with the dates and that they’d given her enough to go on, she’d thanked them and gotten to work with what she had, filled with purpose, not dread.

“So, are you going to tell me what that grin is about?” Aly asked.

Cullie looked up from her phone, and her grin did a weird thing where it both brightened and shook a little.

“You know that thing Binji was talking about when she said every woman deserves to meet someone who sees her the way she wants to be seen? Someone who makes her feel right?”

Aly sat up. For years Aly had trained herself to temper her reactions for Cullie so Cullie wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. Ever since the day of Bindu’s uncharacteristic outburst, Aly hadn’t been able to stop thinking about vulnerability.

Case in point: her daughter was opening up to her.

Cullie had seemed really strong these past couple of years. So Aly went for it. “Is it one of the dates? Do you feel like you met someone?”

“That makes it sound weird, Mom!” Cullie frowned.

Aly kicked herself for getting carried away, but then Cullie smiled again, this time tentatively.

“It’s not one of the dates.”

Aly should have known. It was the app. With Cullie it was always her work.

“I met him in a parking lot when I was throwing up. I know that sounds terrible.” But she was grinning in a most un-Cullie way, and it sounded anything but terrible. “It was right after Noseless Veterinarian.” She grinned again. Then she cleared her throat. “Mom?”

Aly made an encouraging sound. Too afraid to say actual words.

“You and Dad. Things were . . . they were okay today, right?”

This had to do with Ashish?

“Why do we have to bring your father into this?” Aly said, and Cullie’s grin disappeared.

“Sorry.”

Great going with the vulnerability, Aly!

Aly didn’t want Cullie to be sorry.

“No. I’m sorry.” Aly reached out and squeezed Cullie’s arm. “Seriously, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You can mention your dad around me. I mean that.”

“Okay.”

“Cullie, please. What were you going to ask about your dad?”

Cullie took a sip of her hot chocolate. “With Dad . . . you grew up here, and he grew up in India. Was that . . . sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about Dad, but . . .” She trailed off.

Aly gave her arm another squeeze.

She thought about Ashish in that white linen shirt. All that they’d been. The effort he’d made today. Not once had he tried to step into the spotlight. He’d been content to listen as they discussed the app and what a disaster their research had been.

Bindu’s Worm Eater had made an appearance. Bindu had played the horror to the hilt, with an expression that said, rather loudly, Queens don’t share what they suffer. Well, she hadn’t suffered pubic hair extensions on a bodysuit.

Yes, Naked Art Guy had made several appearances too and made up most of the evening’s comedic entertainment.

“We weren’t always broken,” Aly said, before the invisible gag tightened around her words again. “When I met your father, what Ma said that day was exactly how it was. The way he saw me. That’s exactly who I wanted to be.” Her heart hurt as she said it, but it was also freeing. Crushing the block of ice that had encased her for so long.

“I’m sorry,” Cullie said again.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to know that our divorce has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m twenty-five, Mom, you don’t need to do the ‘Mommy and Daddy will always love you’ bit.”

“That’s not what I’m doing . . . just . . . well, I want you to be able to talk to me. To ask me things. I know you’re uncomfortable talking to me about . . .” She made the effort not to use her hands, kept them in her lap. “Some of your struggles.”

Cullie put the mug down on the coffee table and turned to Aly, eyes too hesitant. Are we really talking about this?

Yes. They should have talked about it a long time ago. How had they not?

“Did I make it hard for you to talk to me about it?”

“Of course not!” Cullie said a little too fast.

“Cullie, tell me. Let’s fix this.”

Cullie laughed. “Fix what, Mom? Me? This is the problem. You go straight into fixing-me mode.”

Aly had the urge to press a hand to her mouth. “Oh God.” She did do that.

Cullie looked miserable. “But I’m not broken. I have a condition. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault either.”

“I know, honey. I know you’re not.” When she’d tried to fix Cullie, she’d only made her feel broken. How had she not seen that? “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.”

“You didn’t on purpose.” Cullie’s big hazel eyes, eyes that had made Aly want to weep from their defenseless innocence when Cullie was a baby, looked careful again.

“Say it, beta. You’re not going to hurt me.”

“It’s just that for a long time I didn’t know what was happening to me. And Dad and you worked so hard. And then you both became so sad and preoccupied, I just couldn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”