Gucci Gucci Coo by Sue Margolis Page B

steadfastly refused to allow any more pain in her life and had remained irrationally positive and upbeat when she and Phil were hard up.
    These days, she found it much easier to admit when things weren’t going well. The irony was that neither she nor Phil had very much to worry about. Their finances had improved beyond recognition, they had a strong marriage and a daughter who thought the world of them, and they were both healthy. Although her father had died a few years ago, just as she and Sylvia were trying to build a new relationship with him, Ronnie’s mother had found new love late in life and was now married to a retired dentist and living in Marbella.
    The downside to Ronnie’s therapy was that she had become addicted not only to self-analysis but to analyzing everybody else as well.
    “So, are you OK with coming here for dinner?” Ronnie said again, trying at the same time to rub a stubborn patch of red paint off her middle finger. “You sure you’re not bottling up a whole load of angry feelings?”
    “Mum, I’m not angry. Promise. Oh, and before you ask, yes, the shop is still doing fine and no, I don’t feel guilty about what I’ve achieved and yes, I do believe that everybody is entitled to succeed.”
    “Now you’re making fun of me,” Ronnie said, making a sad clown mouth.
    “I know, but I need you to understand that it comes from a truly good place,” Ruby said, smiling and still teasing.
    “And what about the Matt thing. Is it getting any easier? Does it feel like you’re ready to move on?”
    Ruby had become aware lately that the moving on bit was code for “isn’t it about time you found a serious boyfriend slash husband and settled down.” Ronnie would have been hurt and angry if anybody had dared to suggest she was a typical Jewish mother. After all, she had never been the type to sit at home breast-feeding her daughter matzo balls. She wasn’t needy or demanding. When Ruby was at school she always encouraged her efforts rather than put pressure on her to be the best. To this day Ronnie had never made a single negative comment about her daughter’s appearance or weight. The upshot was that Ruby had grown up with her self-esteem in pretty good shape.
    Until now Ronnie had also never interfered in Ruby’s romantic life—although she always made it clear she was happy to talk about it if Ruby wanted to. Then, when Ruby split up with Matt, a change seemed to come over Ronnie. Ruby had detected a panic descending on her mother. It was clearly something she was aware of and battled against—hence the tangential sideways comments, rather than head-on references to Ruby’s lack of a man. Her remarks tended to be along the lines of, “Darling, are you OK? I mean
really
OK? You know I really worry about you being on your own.” Or, “So and so’s daughter has just moved in with her boyfriend/got married/had a baby and she must be two or three years younger than you.”
    Ruby had told her mother a few times that she felt she was putting her under pressure to find a man. Since Ronnie had been in therapy for so long and was used to “getting feedback,” she knew she wouldn’t see it as an attack.
    “You know, you’re right,” Ronnie had said. “I have been putting pressure on you. This is definitely something I need to look at in my sessions with Clive. I think I’m starting to panic that you may never find a man and settle down. But my need to see you in a relationship is my problem, not yours. I’m transferring my anxiety onto you. Why would I do that? What’s stopping me from giving you permission to live your life however you choose? I’m wondering if there’s something in my past that makes it impossible for me to own my anxiety.”
    And so it went on. Ronnie and Clive were still working on Ronnie’s anxiety transference issues, but it didn’t seem to be doing much good. Hardly a phone call with her mother went by without her mother making some oblique but nevertheless