The Recovery of Rose Gold by Stephanie Wrobel

Author:Stephanie Wrobel [Wrobel, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781405943543
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2020-01-09T00:00:00+00:00

13. Patty

I raise my knuckles to the familiar door and knock with more confidence than I feel. For weeks I’ve been trying to work up an excuse to pay Mary Stone a visit. The discovery of my daughter’s eating disorder is as good a reason as any. Mary might be able to abandon me, but she won’t leave poor Rose Gold to the Big Bad Wolf.

I found the discarded Thanksgiving food a week ago. Since then I can’t decide what to do with my daughter. Reasoning hasn’t worked. Leaving her to her own devices is not an option. I’ve never been above seeking outside help, particularly if it involves a good and petty ‘told you so’.

Someone pads down the hallway. The door will swing open in a few seconds. Mary doesn’t peek through the peephole before she opens her door. How many times have I told her she’s too trusting? She’s going to wind up in the trunk of someone’s car.

The door opens, and the expression on Mary’s face is warm. Then she recognizes who’s standing on her doorstep. By now I’m used to people’s smiles turning into frowns when they see me.

‘I told you you’re not welcome here,’ Mary says. She starts to close the door.

‘Wait,’ I say, pushing back against it. ‘It’s Rose Gold. I think she’s in trouble.’

Mary hesitates, watching me. Then she sighs and opens the door wide. ‘Come in,’ she says.

Bingo.

The house is just as I remember it, painted and carpeted in Easter pastels. Mary’s collection of angel statues in the living room has somehow grown – there must be more than fifty now, fashioned from ceramic, concrete, glass, wood and marble. I wonder if she’s ever driven past a yard sale without stopping.

I sit on the couch. Two glass bowls are on the coffee-table: one full of potpourri, the other of M&Ms. I’m already concocting a slapstick routine that involves pretending to eat a handful of the dried petals, but remind myself this is supposed to be a somber visit. I am here to play the role of Concerned Mother. I grab a handful of M&Ms. Concerned Mothers still need to eat.

‘What do you want, Patty?’ Mary says.

I toss the M&Ms into my mouth. ‘I think Rose Gold is sick.’

Mary’s face softens. ‘Sick how? Is this an emergency?’ She reaches for her phone.

‘No, no,’ I reassure her. I stare at my folded hands in my lap, like this is hard for me to say. Timing is key before a big reveal. You want your audience on the edge of their seats, hanging on your every word.

Mary leans forward, as if she can read my mind. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with her?’

I take a deep breath. ‘I think Rose Gold has an eating disorder.’

I’ve played Mary’s reaction a hundred times in my head, but never did I imagine it would be a laugh of disbelief. She crosses her arms. ‘Funny, she never had any trouble with food while you were in prison.

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