Dispatches From Paradise. Shelly Gitlow

      “I quit my job.”

      I watch her closely. She seems surprised but not upset.

      “No way. You without a job?”

      Here goes. This is the first time I’m uttering this out loud.

      “I’m thinking about starting my own business, opening an art gallery.”

      “That is so cool, Mom.”

      Really? Maybe it will actually fly. But what does she know? She’s a kid. And she’s trying to butter me up so I don’t kick her out. Why am I so insecure? Duh, maybe it has something to do with my mother?

      We take Darcy’s stuff into her room.

      “By the way, what was going on with you and Cole?”

      “God, Mom. Nothing. We were swimming. That’s all. He’s cool.”

      I don’t believe her, but I restrain from saying anything. This might not be as hard as I thought. Oh yes, it is.

      “I hope you’re not mad. I invited Cole and his Dad for dinner.”

      I try and act nonchalant, but I’m blushing. Damn it.

      “That’s fine. I met him this morning, seems like a nice enough guy. And we should welcome the new neighbors.”

      She’s on to me, gets it immediately.

      “You like him. Good for you. It’s about time. Dad’s had so many chicks.”

      She’s actually giving me permission to have a life after Richard. Why can’t I be as tolerant of her? Darcy opens a suitcase and hands me a package.

      “Happy birthday, Mom. Sorry it’s late.”

      Now I really feel awful. She was dealing with all that stuff at school and still remembered. I open it and find an oil painting, a beautiful image of the moonrise over the ocean. My eyes well up with tears. It’s something my father did. Darcy and I have both always loved it. I let her take it to school as a reminder of home, and she had it framed.

      “Thank you. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

      “I thought you’d like it.”

      I squeeze her tightly and leave her to settle into her room.

      What’s that on the couch? It looks like a . . . joint. There’s the yin and the yang of it. One minute she’s doing the most thoughtful thing imaginable, the next she’s turning me back into a narc. I don’t want to go through this again. I won’t. I pick it up and go back to Darcy’s room, open her door.

      “What’s this, Darcy?”

      “Jeez. Can’t you knock? Looks like a joint to me. But it’s not mine, must be Cole’s.”

      “I don’t believe it.”

      “Of course, you don’t. You never believe me.”

      “I can’t deal with this now.”

      I get the old icy glare.

      “There’s nothing to deal with.”

      I give her the old stern look. She ignores me.

      “That better be true.”

      Unfortunately, it looks like Darcy’s and my conflict, second only to the Israeli-Palestinian one, has been rekindled. I leave her room and look at the joint. Hmmm. When was the last time I smoked pot? Back in college. It was fun.

      I’m about to flush the joint when something hits me. Maybe I should hold on to it, just in case. Who knows what I might do in my new life? I’m not an addictive personality, so why not keep it for a special occasion? I put it in my jewelry box, next to my engagement and wedding rings. So many changes, but they feel right.

      Darcy, Cole, Michael, and I are chowing down on tofu, veggies, and brown rice. I made a quick trip to Whole Foods and brought in some vegan food. Michael’s wolfing it down. I’m trying to like it and not succeeding, but I keep that to myself. Darcy makes a face and pushes her almost-full plate out of the way.

      “How can you eat this? It’s gross.”

      “It’s good to try new things. And it’ll help you get in shape for modeling.”

      That totally backfires. She gets defensive.

      “You think I’m fat.”

      I have to be careful. Darcy used to purge. I definitely don’t want her going down that road again.

      “Not at all. You’re perfect. But you know how the fashion world is.”

      Michael stops gorging himself and jumps into the fray.

      “Whatever you want to do, this stuff is good for you. It gets rid of the toxins in your system.”

      Darcy’s not buying it. Neither is Cole. She rolls her eyes at him, and he smirks and nods. He’s totally infatuated with Darcy. He bonds with her about the food.

      “He makes me eat this crap, even though I hate it”

      “You’ll thank me when you make the Olympic team.”

      The kids exchange looks. They’ve had it with us. Darcy gets up.

      “Let’s go, Cole.”

      He jumps up so quickly that he knocks over his chair. Michael’s nervous.

      “Where do you think you’re going, Cole?”

      “With Darcy. To a party. It’s not a big deal, Dad.”

      “I didn’t say you could go. You have a meeting with the coach tomorrow.’

      “Don’t sweat it. I’ll be there.”

      “You better be. Otherwise no more parties for you. And make sure your phone is on so I can call you.”

      “Okay.”

      “Promise?”

      “Yeah, sure.”

      I should say something so Michael doesn’t feel like the bad guy.

      “Be careful, Darcy.”

      She glares at me.

      “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, Mom.”

      And off they go. I’m nervous too. But I have to get used to her being home and having a life. I hope she doesn’t get Cole involved in anything too outrageous. He’s from Ohio. This is Miami. At the very least, he’ll get an education hanging out with Darcy.

      I’m alone with Michael in the backyard. Harry Connick Jr. is serenading us with “It Had to Be You,” which is way too mushy for the occasion, but my iPod is on shuffle. Is this all happening too quickly? Too quickly for what? I’ve been celibate for a long time. I can’t even admit to myself how long. Richard tried to keep up some semblance of a sex life, but I didn’t want his pity sex. Stop thinking about Richard. I offer Michael a taste of the Malbec I’m drinking.

      “No, thanks. I don’t like to share glasses. You know, germs.”

      I get another glass and pour some for him.

      “Sorry. You shouldn’t have. I don’t put that poison in my body.”

      Is he really this uptight?

      “Don’t they say that drinking in moderation is better than not drinking at all? Red wine lowers your cholesterol or something.”

      “They say a lot of things.”

      He pulls out his cell phone.

      “I’m