“I don’t entirely agree.” Micky sipped her wine. One sip clearly wasn’t enough, because she quickly sipped again. “I don’t want to underestimate your suffering and the impact of bullying. And I realize even having this conversation is like skating on thin ice, but I appreciate both you and Mia very much. You are two kind, considerate, thoughtful people with your heads screwed on right. Daughters any mother would be proud of. No matter what happened in the past.” She paused. “It happened a long time ago, Lou. And the Mia you knew then, I dare to guess, is nothing like the person we’ve all gotten to know over the past few weeks.”

“Oh yes, Mia the saint. The new girl on the block no one can get enough of or heap enough praise on. I’m starting to get sick of all of that.”

“I understand that. I truly do. And I was shocked when Mia told me, but I was also surprised by her candor, by her willingness to tell me about that ugly part of her life, of herself. She was a teenager back then, just like you. Someone trying to come to grips with a life that was often hard.”

“Yes, well, that’s not really something I can take into consideration. What she did decimated me. Incapacitated me for too long, because even if it was only for a while in my teens, it was still too long for me. An entire school year, Micky. She waited for me for ten months. She went out of her way so she could bully me, call me names, make me feel so small I just wanted to disappear.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry that happened to you. But that was a different Mia.”

“I don’t understand why she told you.”

“She told me because I asked. Because it’s so obvious that there is bad blood between you. Remember that night at Martha’s when you and Amber tried to pretend she didn’t exist? Amber tells me everything, and suddenly she was so harsh on Mia, telling me to not bring her into Glow anymore, even though she was helping us. That set off quite a few alarm bells. I asked Mia, and she told me. And I’m sorry that I can’t tell you more, but I will tell you this: Mia has suffered too because of this. And I’m not saying you can compare the two, or that her suffering equals yours, because that’s a losing game from the get-go if we’re going to start comparing, but life is more complicated, and people are more complex than the mean teenagers we see them as sometimes.”

“And what am I supposed to do with this information? Amber urged me to talk to you about this, but I’m really none the wiser.”