The Secrets We Keep
Page 50
I slip the key into the front door and open it into the family room, only to find my mother still on the couch with an album in her lap and a glass of wine in her hand.
“Still packing albums, huh?”
“Yeah, lots of good stuff in these...”
She has her wedding album open. The pictures show my parents in a way I rarely witnessed. “You really loved each other, huh?”
“Yes, but things changed when your dad got injured. It broke him, and I didn’t know how to help him. I just took on the responsibility of keeping up our lifestyle.” She looks at me intently. “It wasn’t just his fault.” She shakes her head, tears falling, and I join her on the couch, sniffling softly at my mother’s admission. She strokes my hair gently. “I need to go and start a new chapter. There is no past haunting me up there—only the future for the three of you.” She pauses. “You understand, right?”
I nod and sit back against couch.
My mom turns toward me. “I’m sorry for leaning on you so much—for making you listen to everything. I needed a friend, Callie, but through all of this, I forgot that you needed a mother. I’m so sorry, honey.”
“I can be both, Mom…if that’s what you need,” I tell her, actually meaning it now. I stand up, holding an album in my hands. I consider the last few years, and yes, there are certain things that a child should never experience. Some child psychologist has probably written a book on this, but I am speaking from my own experience, and I don’t need a degree in psychology to be an expert on the matter. I put the album in a box. A child should never find her father in bed with another woman. I turn toward the couch, pick up the wedding album, and then place it in the box. A daughter should never become her mother’s sole confidante in cases of infidelity. I gather two more albums and drop them in the box. A girl should never turn to her boyfriend for sex to find what’s missing in her life. My mother follows suit and adds the remaining albums from the couch. I close the box and add a few strips of packing tape across the top. I grab the Sharpie off the table, remember her words earlier, and label it: “Lots of Good Stuff.”
I turn toward my mother and kiss her on the cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
“Hmm, who are you, and what did you do with my daughter?” She offers a hearty laugh and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love you too, Callie. You’ve always been an amazing daughter—better than I ever deserved.” A tear slips down her cheek, then another. “I will miss you so much next year.” Tears spill from her eyes, and I give her a final hug goodnight. “I will miss you too, Mom.” We separate and escape to our bedrooms.
I strip off my dress and slip on Ryan’s T-shirt, still lightly scented with his cologne. I crawl under the cotton sheets and then drop my head on the pillow. I spend one of my final nights in this apartment as my thoughts drift back into Ryan’s arms, deep into the woods, with kisses, warm and rhythmic. I fast forward to the myriad of kisses tonight, and those tender memories lull me to sleep, and I succumb to my fantasies, dreaming fervently of Ryan, shirtless, on the beach…
The End