She remembered, abruptly, hanging to the side of that cliff and thinking she’d find someone to blame for all the junk food she’d eaten in college. But she had eaten all that food all by herself and not done any exercise. There was no one to blame but herself. She’d even known she shouldn’t eat like that but she had anyway.

“You’re right, I don’t understand, sweetie. One day I noticed you were putting on some pounds and I couldn’t figure out what had changed. You had always been reasonable about food, even as a little girl. You never had much of a sweet tooth.”

Marissa made herself start on the trout, though she didn’t feel hungry. Her mother did likewise. When a small gravy boat of hollandaise was presented with a flourish, she poured what she hoped was just two teaspoons worth onto her vegetables. It smelled wonderful. There was very little, she decided, that butter didn’t improve. “Okay, this was a good idea. You’re right, in small quantities, butter is a beautiful thing.”

“I’m sure if you keep up your hard work you’ll be successful. And sooner or later I know you’ll find the right person to make you happy.”

“I don’t want someone who notices me just because I’m thin.” If I lose weight and suddenly Ocky wants to date me, well, that sucks, Marissa decided. I don’t want that, she thought. Yet, I want someone who thinks I look good.

Hell, self-image was confusing. She didn’t want to be loved just for the way she looked and not just for who she was inside. She wanted someone to love her for the whole package, three-hundred sixty degrees.

She nearly brought up Linda then caught herself in time. Instead she said, half-smiling, “Mom, are you actually urging me to date women? Really? You’re sure it’s okay with you?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

To Marissa’s utter shock, her mother rose to her feet, then stepped into her chair. With a grin at Marissa, she planted one Mephisto pump next to the bread basket and the other alongside the salt and pepper. Standing on the table, she looked down at Marissa as the dining room fell silent.

“Marissa, dear, I want you to be happy. If that means you date fifty women, I don’t care. That’s right!” She gestured at the rest of the room. “My daughter, my brilliant analyst entrepreneur daughter, is a lesbian and I am her very proud mother.”

Her speech ended, she took the waiter’s hand and he helped her down from the table as if he was assisting a queen from her carriage.

Conversations resumed. Anyone who walked into the room now would never believe that only moments before the elegant woman dining with her daughter had been standing on the table.

Finally, Marissa said, not smiling at all, “That’s not the first time you’ve stood on the table, is it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Marissa, dear. Eat your vegetables.”

It was like eating dinner with a stranger after that, but not in a bad way. It felt like starting over. After the table incident it wasn’t that hard to believe she’d been conceived during a night of inebriated, giddy passion.