“Good morning, Bright Eyes,” Albert Wilcot’s voice sang out over the phone.
“Papa! When did you guys get into town?”
“About an hour ago.”
“Where’s Mama?”
“In the bathroom trying to steam the wrinkles out of her outfit before your lunch. She’s really looking forward to seeing you.”
“Me, too,” Felicia responded, hoping she sounded more sincere than she felt. When Jolie suggested accompanying her husband to New York so mother and daughter could spend time together, Felicia had unsuccessfully tried to discourage her, citing an extraordinary workload as her excuse. As much as she loved her mother, she couldn’t bear the idea of setting off Jolie’s ultrasensitive maternal radar and having to answer a barrage of questions about her strange behavior of late. “You’re sure you can’t join us?”
“I’m afraid not, honey. This medical conference has me tied up morning till night, which is why I’m calling so early. I wanted to at least speak with you and my son-in-law while I’m in the same city.”
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with just me, Papa. Trace already left for court,” Felicia informed her father.
“That’s too bad. When do you expect him this evening? Maybe I can catch him during the dinner break.”
“It’s hard to say. You know how Trace is when it comes to his work.” She didn’t bother to add that his early departure was directly related to yet another heated argument between them. In fact, she and her husband hadn’t spoken to each other in days.
“Yes, I do. Both of you work a bit too hard, if you ask me. But since you didn’t, I’m not going to butt in. I’ll leave that to your mother,” Albert said, causing Felicia to chuckle. “Good to hear you laugh, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I’m sorry Papa couldn’t join us,” Felicia told her mother after placing her lunch order with the waiter.
“He is, too, but I’m glad we have this chance to talk alone.”
“How is he? Is he sticking to his diet?”
“Reluctantly.”
“What’s up with Lindsay? She called me the other day, but I haven’t had a chance to get back to her,” Felicia said.
“Lindsay’s busy being Lindsay,” Jolie remarked, smiling. “I think she’s finally picked a major—two, actually—dance and psychology. She’s decided to become a dance therapist.”
“And how are you doing, Mama?”
“I’m okay. Just a few worries rattling around in my head.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“What makes you think there’s something wrong with me?” Felicia asked, avoiding her mother’s inquisitive eyes.
“Maybe because we rarely hear from you these days, or because you and Trace continually avoid being around us lately. And look how your clothes are hanging off you. Just how much weight have you lost?”
“I’ve been working very hard, Mama. We both have. There just hasn’t been time to eat, or call, or run down to D.C. to visit.”
“Does hard work explain away the pain and confusion in your eyes? Felicia, what’s wrong? Is everything all right between you and Trace?”
Felicia could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Just as she knew it would be, it was a futile exercise to try to hide her problems from Jolie. Maybe a little mother’s love was exactly what she needed right now. Maybe some maternal TLC could make her feel less guilty and confused about what a mess her life was in. “No, Mama, it’s not.”
“Honey, why didn’t you say something sooner? You know I’m always here to help you.”
“I don’t know. I guess I was too embarrassed or afraid you’d think I’d let you and Papa down.”
“Licia, every marriage has its problems. Your father and I have been married for thirty-six years. Do you really think that all thirty-six were blissful and problem-free? Honey, marriage is hard work. There are peaks and there are valleys. The key is to store the love and respect you gather during the high times to help get you through the low. Tell me, what’s going on between you two?”
“We’re having some problems. Problems that we’re seeing a marriage counselor about,” she admitted.
“Is there another woman?” Jolie probed gently. “Is Trace cheating on you?”
Felicia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh at her mother’s assumption that it was Trace who’d been unfaithful, or cry because only she knew the truth. How heartbroken and disappointed would her parents be if they knew that it was their “perfect” daughter who’d made love to another man and then aborted their grandchild because she was unsure of its paternity? “No, Mama, there definitely isn’t another woman,” Felicia assured her. “It would be so much simpler if there were.”