laughed. “Okay, maybe I was.” She twisted her lips, looking as though she was struggling with something she wanted to say. “Just because I don’t believe in all that happily-ever-after B.S. doesn’t mean it isn’t nice to pretend sometimes.”
“What made you so cynical?” I knew her parents had separated when she was a kid and her mother had died shortly after, but beyond that, she never talked about her childhood or her family.
“I’m not cynical,” she said, looking at the full moon through the crack in the drapes. “I’m a realist. People leave. They disappoint you. If you learn not to expect anything from anyone, you can’t be disappointed.”
I wanted to prove to her that people could sometimes exceed your expectations, but given the double life I was currently leading, I was pretty sure I would one day reinforce her belief that people were devious and unreliable. “Tell me about your parents. Your father, is he still alive?”
It was like she’d pulled a shutter over her face when I mentioned her parents. Her eyes turned dark and cold, telling a story she would obviously rather forget. “Last I heard, he was. I haven’t had anything to do with him in years.”
“Why’s that?”
“He traveled a lot for business when I was growing up, so he hired the lady next door to take care of me. She was this sweet grandmotherly type, a retired librarian who couldn’t have any children of her own. When my mother left, I spent all of my time at her house.”
I could tell I was venturing into dangerous territory, but I wanted to know where she’d come from and what had helped her become the woman I’d fallen for. “Did you still have a relationship with your mother when she left your father?”
“No.”
I skimmed the back of my knuckles over her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, feigning indifference. “They used to argue all the time.” She laughed, the sound hollow and harsh. “Fortunately for me, they argued in Greek, so I didn’t understand half of what they said.”
I knew she had a working knowledge of the language but wouldn’t have described herself as fluent. “I understand what that’s like. My parents used to argue a lot when I was a kid too.” I hoped that if I shared my story, she would be more willing to open up about her own childhood. “That was before my mother realized she couldn’t change my father. Now they barely speak at all. Honestly, I don’t know which is worse.”
“I know what you mean.” She closed her eyelids when a sheen of moisture clouded her big brown eyes. “The silence used to stretch on for days between fights. Sometimes I just wished they’d say something, even if they were screaming at each other. I hated the silence.”
That was why I appreciated what I had with Eleni. We communicated. I’d never had that kind of relationship with a woman before. Since I’d never had a healthy example growing up, it had taken me a long time to realize this was how healthy relationships were built, on the grounds of give and take.
“It must have been tough growing up without your mom. How old did you say you were when she left?” She’d never told me. We’d never delved this deep into her family history, probably because we’d never been this intimate.
“Ten.” I was about to ask where she’d gone, why they’d lost contact, when she said, “She didn’t leave voluntarily. He kicked her out. It was the middle of the night. I woke up to the sound of him throwing her suitcase out of a second-story window.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I wanted to get up, to beg him to stop or at least ask her to take me with her, but I knew he’d never allow that. As far as my father was concerned, I was the one weapon he could use to hurt my mother.”
“That’s rough, being caught in the middle like that.” I was careful not to add too much to the conversation. If I did, she might
“What made you so cynical?” I knew her parents had separated when she was a kid and her mother had died shortly after, but beyond that, she never talked about her childhood or her family.
“I’m not cynical,” she said, looking at the full moon through the crack in the drapes. “I’m a realist. People leave. They disappoint you. If you learn not to expect anything from anyone, you can’t be disappointed.”
I wanted to prove to her that people could sometimes exceed your expectations, but given the double life I was currently leading, I was pretty sure I would one day reinforce her belief that people were devious and unreliable. “Tell me about your parents. Your father, is he still alive?”
It was like she’d pulled a shutter over her face when I mentioned her parents. Her eyes turned dark and cold, telling a story she would obviously rather forget. “Last I heard, he was. I haven’t had anything to do with him in years.”
“Why’s that?”
“He traveled a lot for business when I was growing up, so he hired the lady next door to take care of me. She was this sweet grandmotherly type, a retired librarian who couldn’t have any children of her own. When my mother left, I spent all of my time at her house.”
I could tell I was venturing into dangerous territory, but I wanted to know where she’d come from and what had helped her become the woman I’d fallen for. “Did you still have a relationship with your mother when she left your father?”
“No.”
I skimmed the back of my knuckles over her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, feigning indifference. “They used to argue all the time.” She laughed, the sound hollow and harsh. “Fortunately for me, they argued in Greek, so I didn’t understand half of what they said.”
I knew she had a working knowledge of the language but wouldn’t have described herself as fluent. “I understand what that’s like. My parents used to argue a lot when I was a kid too.” I hoped that if I shared my story, she would be more willing to open up about her own childhood. “That was before my mother realized she couldn’t change my father. Now they barely speak at all. Honestly, I don’t know which is worse.”
“I know what you mean.” She closed her eyelids when a sheen of moisture clouded her big brown eyes. “The silence used to stretch on for days between fights. Sometimes I just wished they’d say something, even if they were screaming at each other. I hated the silence.”
That was why I appreciated what I had with Eleni. We communicated. I’d never had that kind of relationship with a woman before. Since I’d never had a healthy example growing up, it had taken me a long time to realize this was how healthy relationships were built, on the grounds of give and take.
“It must have been tough growing up without your mom. How old did you say you were when she left?” She’d never told me. We’d never delved this deep into her family history, probably because we’d never been this intimate.
“Ten.” I was about to ask where she’d gone, why they’d lost contact, when she said, “She didn’t leave voluntarily. He kicked her out. It was the middle of the night. I woke up to the sound of him throwing her suitcase out of a second-story window.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “I wanted to get up, to beg him to stop or at least ask her to take me with her, but I knew he’d never allow that. As far as my father was concerned, I was the one weapon he could use to hurt my mother.”
“That’s rough, being caught in the middle like that.” I was careful not to add too much to the conversation. If I did, she might
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