Page 33 of What You Never Knew

“Nothing,” I call back. Moving away from the photos, I trail my hand along the wood-paneled wall, enjoying the way the thump of my fingers against the grooves echoes through the quiet emptiness.

I feel ashamed of the mother in those photos and don’t want Ezra to see them. It’s bad enough that she destroyed his family with an affair; he doesn’t need to see her spreading her flirtatious ways everywhere else as well. And if I’m truly honest with myself, right now her sins feel a little too close to my own. Too much of a “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” kind of thing, and I don’t want to share that with Ezra.

The hallway opens up into a large, airy room. The view from the wall of windows actually takes my breath away. “This is amazing,” I say, looking up at the high domed ceiling and then turning a full 360 degrees to take it all in.

Ezra is already spreading a blanket out in the middle of the floor. He starts removing items from the shopping bag—a block of cheese, a baguette, some olives, a salami that looks like it’s been cured in a Mennonite barn for years.

I walk over to the blanket. “My god, Ezra, two times in a row.”

“I just picked up a few things at this great deli in the town where I got my client’s new boat,” he explains.

I have the irresistible urge to move around the large, open space. I slide away from Ezra while he finishes setting up our picnic and begin to twirl around the perimeter of the room. My bare feet slide easily across the well-worn floor, making a soft shushing sound. The skirt of my dress rises up into a full circle around my thighs as though my legs have wings.

Within seconds I’m light-headed and dizzy, but I can’t stop. The lake view whizzes past with each turn, as does Ezra, still crouched on the blanket, the inside and outside view blurring into one. I imagine what a fool I must look, and laughter comes. Ezra gets up off the blanket and moves toward me.

I spin away from him, making it a game, but he’s quick and reaches out and grabs me with one arm, like catching a butterfly in a net. Pulling me in close, he kisses me gently on the neck. His soft lips move up to my jawline and over my cheek. By the time he reaches my lips, there’s a buzzing all through the lower half of my body. Then the photo of my mother in the arms of another man, on this very dance floor, flashes through my mind.

I abruptly pull out of the kiss. “I’m starving. How about you?” Ignoring his look of surprise, I maneuver out of his arms and over to the blanket to sit down.

He doesn’t say anything, just walks back over slowly to join me. He pours me a glass of white wine, and I dig right into the food. We’re quiet for a little while, eating and drinking. Sitting there in the middle of the dance floor, I appreciate the novelty of the situation. Ezra was always creative in life, and I’m happy it stayed with him into adulthood.

“Just so you know.” I pause to swallow down a bite of bread. “I think this might be the best date I’ve ever been on. You get an A plus for originality.” Leaning over, I clink his beer with my wineglass.

He tilts his head and gives me a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”

“Okay. Just seems like you’re a bit off, that’s all.”

“Off?”

“Well, maybe not off.” He rubs the side of his face while trying to find the wording. “Less enthusiastic.”

I take a long sip of my wine before answering. “It’s not you, Ezra.” He stares back at me, and I can tell he won’t be happy with my simple declaration. “It’s all of it. Being back here. Finding out about the affair. Being reminded of my father leaving, my childhood summers, which now seem like a lie.”

“I can understand that,” he says, but there’s still some skepticism in his voice.

“It’s like my mother has been split into two people.” I make a cutting motion with my hand, and he nods to show he understands. “The version I had in my head before I found out she’d had a decades-long affair, before I found out she lied about Avril Island, about so many things, and the version I have now.” I drink some more wine. “She was always difficult,” I continue. “Emotional, selfish, and sometimes even downright mean.” I shrug. “But I could reconcile those things, because she could also be loving and generous and fun, and she was beautiful and elegant. It was just my mother and the way she was. Now she feels like …” I trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

Ezra slides down onto the blanket to lie on his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “People can be lots of things, June, both good and bad. You don’t have to write them off just because of the bad. You shouldn’t think of your mother as a stranger just because she had an affair.” He takes a long sip of his beer, and I watch as his Adam’s apple moves up and down his throat.

“The thing is, my mother doesn’t feel like a stranger to me. In fact, I feel like I’ve never known her better.”

He looks up at me with confusion. “How is that the problem, then?”

“Because I think that I became her.”

He gives his head a little shake. “You’re not your mother, June. Just because you look like her and are from her doesn’t mean you are her.”

“What if I look like her, am from her, and have committed the same crimes as her?”

He pushes himself back up into a sitting position. “I’m really not following.”

I look at Ezra, right into his wide, open, trusting eyes, and suddenly all I want to do is confess. To unburden myself of it all. “I had an affair.” The words almost get stuck, and I have to clear my throat. “Affairs, actually. I’m the reason my marriage ended. Just like my mother is the reason that her marriage ended.” I have to look away from the surprise in his eyes, because I’m pretty sure it will be replaced with loathing in a matter of seconds.

“Okay,” he says slowly, and I can almost hear the wheels turning as he processes what I’ve just told him. “It still doesn’t make you your mother,” he finally says.

I look down at the dress I’m wearing and think of the black bra and underwear and have never felt more like my mother. “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”