by Amy DeMeritt
I haven’t heard from my mother or her robotic assistant in weeks. I can’t believe she’s here. She never just shows up and rarely comes to my place – I think it’s too intimate for her. Anytime she wants to meet, it’s usually in a public place.
“Sure, we were just finishing breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”
“We?”
“Yes, I am a part of a ‘we’. My girlfriend, Hannah, is here.” Her lips purse slightly and her fingers wrap more tightly around the small beige purse in her hands. “Ok, yes, I’ll take some coffee, please.”
I usher my mom through the hall towards the kitchen, where Hannah has already started cleaning up. She turns when she hears our approaching feet and quickly grabs a towel to dry her hands when she sees my mom.
“Mom, this is Hannah. Hannah, this is my mother, Veronica.” Hannah smiles warmly and extends her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” My mom half-heartedly takes her hand with just the first two digits of her fingers and then quickly releases her hand. “It’s nice to know you exist.”
My mother, always the politely rude disapproving parent. Can’t she ever just say one nice thing?
I met Hannah’s parents a couple weeks ago and it actually went very well. I had been scared to meet them because they are religious and her father is a pastor, but they were genuinely kind and supportive of our relationship.
“If you took an interest in my life, you would have known she exists. What would you like to talk about, Mother?”
“I see the time out I gave you did nothing to help dull that sharp insolent tongue. ”
“Time out you gave me? I believe I am the one who walked away from you and gave you the ultimatum to improve your attitude. Do not forget your manners, Mother. You are in my home, not yours.”
My mom smiles and nods once.
“Well done. Can I have that coffee now?”
I look at her with narrowed eyes and exhale hard as I turn to pour her a cup of coffee. I catch Hannah’s gaze as I turn and she looks uncomfortable, but also proud of me. I inhale deeply and try to allow that wonderful look of pride in her eyes to give me strength.
After getting my mom a cup of coffee and refreshing mine and Hannah’s mugs, we take a seat at my dining room table. My mom takes a sip of her coffee and takes a deep breath. She looks at me for three whole counts before speaking.
“Brooke, I talked to Curtis and he and I agreed we want you at the wedding with the plus one of your choice.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? You are my daughter. Does there need to be any other reason?”
“No, there doesn’t. And if there wasn’t another reason, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We would be talking about what flowers you want lining the aisle and what color table cloths you want at the reception. You wouldn’t have objected to me bringing my girlfriend in the first place if there wasn’t another reason. So, do not insult my intelligence and try to play to my emotions. Just be honest with me for just once in my life. Why have you changed your mind?”
“Fine, but you won’t like the answer.”
“When do I ever?”
My mom purses her lips and looks at me with narrowed eyes. I rarely stand up to my mom, and it is even rarer that I ever see her indifferent “business always” attitude falter. Today, she is not doing well at keeping that mask on .
“Curtis has started campaigning for next term to regain his seat in the Senate. Since the Democratic party is suddenly so ‘pro-gay’, he does not want his opponents to find out about you being barred from the wedding because of your escort choice. The media would have a heyday with that and it would hurt him in the polls.”
I out a small laugh of disbelief. I take a sip of coffee and shake my head.
“You hit a new low, Veronica.” Her eyes widen and her eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline in her shock. I stand and motion for her to stand. “Thank you for stopping by, but please tell the senator that he cannot count on my vote.”
My mom just looks up at me in shock. I start to walk away from her and she suddenly remembers how to speak.
“How dare you call me by my name. I am your mother. I gave birth to you!”
“What does being a mother mean to you?”
“What kind of question is that? I always made sure you were well clothed, fed, and safe.”
“You’re missing a keyword in there. The most important word, actually.”
She stares me down hard with narrowed eyes and lips pinched so tightly they look like pink raisins.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Loved! Mother, the word you’re missing is, loved! You never made me feel loved! How can you call yourself my mother when you never gave me the only thing every child in this world needs from the one person for whom it should come from naturally?” I crumble as my throat tightens and my eyes start gushing tears. “I’m done. Just get the hell out of my house!”
I turn and quickly walk away, wiping tears from my eyes. My chest is so tight and heavy that I feel like I might have a heart attack. Just as I hit the first step of my stairs, I hear feet padding behind me and a gentle hand soon lands on my arm. I look back to see Hannah is standing below me with tears in her eyes. She takes my hand and leads me upstairs. As soon as we get to my bedroom, my knees give out and I fall to the floor. Hannah lands with me and cradles my head on her chest with her strong warm arms holding me close.
I sob into her chest like I have never done before. I have never allowed myself to cry like this before. And I have never spoken those words to my mom before. I’ve never told her that I needed her love. I always tried to win it in my academics, but I never asked for it. I always thought that if I asked her to love me, she would just say it to shut me up, but wouldn’t really mean it. I wanted her to say it without needing to be prompted. Now, I’ll never be able to trust that word out of her mouth because I revealed to her what I need most from her.
Hannah holds me and gently rocks me in her arms. She resumes her pretty, sweet humming she was doing this morning when I found her making breakfast in the kitchen. Her warmth, love, and sweet voice start to calm my emotional storm. The crackling sobs ease, and I reduce to just sniffling and the occasional guttural moan of pained emotion. Hannah kisses my head a few times and runs her fingers through my hair.
I have seen this scene in so many books and movies. A caring parent, friend, lover, or caretaker simply being the steady rock that holds up the crumbling person and helping them to feel loved. Such a scene never happened in my life, till now. This is the kind of moment I needed on so many occasions from my mother, but never received. Instead, I would choke back the tears, take a book from the bookshelf, and hide in a closet, in the park, or under my bed. I don’t know why, but I always thought that if my mom couldn’t see me, she would worry more and maybe come question me and ask what was wrong. Wow, my mom never asked me what was wrong when I was upset, ever .
A knock on the doorframe startles me and my body jumps at the sound. Hannah places a hand on the back of my neck to steady me. My mom is standing in the doorway with red, but dry eyes. I wipe my eyes and straighten up. I start to stand, but she puts a hand up for me to stay seated.
“You are right, and I am sorry, but it’s not something I can give you. It’s not your fault. You are a very lovely woman and were always a very smart, well behaved child. But I never wanted children. Your father did. I never loved a person like I loved your father, and when he left, he took my heart with him. If your father had not left, I think I could have loved you. But when I look at you, I see the pain I felt the day I realized he left and was never coming back.”
My eyes burn and my throat burns even hotter. My lungs seem to have stopped working. I want to make her stop talking, but I can’t. I can’t speak. Hearing this is worse than never knowing why she wouldn’t say it.
“You look just like your father. He was handsome, built nice, and he was both smart and creative like you. He was a m
usician, but as you know, I don’t believe the arts can pay the bills. We agreed that if he wanted children, he had to give up his music and get a real job. He started working at his father’s tax office a couple months before I became pregnant. He hated it. Every second of it. He begged me to let him do his music part time, but I told him, no, a deal is a deal. Some of his friends were going on the road and asked him to tour with them. He took the offer and left. So, I was left to do the responsible thing. I knew if I wanted to be successful, I couldn’t just give you up for adoption. I would have to raise you as a single parent. It was not easy, and yes, I used it to my gain when possible. Being a single mom was good for business most of the time.”
She pauses and takes a deep breath. I try to do the same, but I can’t really breathe .
“Brooke, I can’t be the mother you want or need. I’m just not capable of loving you and it’s not because of you as a person. It’s the history behind you. I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than I could give you.” She turns to walk away, and I feel a crushing blow to my chest. I release a loud involuntary sob, as I croak out, “Mom…” She turns back to look at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Brooke. Goodbye.”
Without another word, she quickly disappears out of sight, down the stairs, and I hear my front door open and close. I feel like a part of me has just been ripped out and I’ll never get it back. That piece of hope that I had always held onto that said there is a possibility that my mother loves me, but just isn’t capable of saying it, was just completely burned in a fire that is scorching my throat and chest.
I fall to the floor in a heap, crying so hard that I’m hyperventilating. Hannah quickly leaps up and returns a moment later with a cold rag that she places on my neck as she cradles my head on her lap. Between my gasping breaths and sobs, I can hear that Hannah is also crying. I find this oddly comforting. To know her heart is hurting for me and with me in the moment of my worst pain ever actually gives me strength. I try to focus on her – her touch, her breathing, the small cries coming from the lips that she kisses me so tenderly with.
My eyes burn and are so heavy that I can’t keep them open at all anymore. I take a deep breath in and out very slowly, trying to bring my emotions under control. Hannah runs her fingers through my hair and across my cheek. She takes the rag from my neck and wipes the streaks of tears off my cheeks and dabs at my eyes. The cool rag on my swollen eyes feels good.
I don’t know how long it takes, but it seems like a long time before I’m able to sit up. When I do, Hannah wraps me in her arms and kisses my lips, cheeks, and neck.
“Baby, what can I do for you? ”
“That really just happened, didn’t it? My mom just told me she has never loved me and never will.”
She squeezes me closer and she sniffles. My eyes burn with fresh tears that threaten to turn me into a sobbing mess again. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. I pull back and Hannah kisses my lips again. She looks so torn, sad, and worried. It’s the look of real love. Despite the nightmare that I finally lived through, after dreaming it countless nights growing up and even as an adult, my mouth actually curls into a small smile from seeing the love pouring out of Hannah.
“Hannah, I love you so much. You are literally the best person I have ever known.” She lets out a small sob and wraps her arms around me again, burying her face in my neck. “Brooke, I love you more than I can express in words. I don’t know how you turned out so wonderful, but I never want to let you go. You are just so amazing.”
“Can we go watch a movie or something? Maybe a comedy or a horror movie?”
“Why a horror movie?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, they make me feel less upset about my own issues when I watch them. I just figure, at least I’m not going through something like that.”
“Ok, baby, come on.”
Chapter Sixteen
When my alarm pierces through the quiet morning, it sends a sharp pain through my temples. I feel like I have a hangover. I slam my hand down on the alarm clock and burry my head under my pillow. In all my life, I have not dreaded getting out of bed and facing the world more than I do today. And that’s saying a lot since I witnessed some real evil horrors when I was a crime scene photographer for a couple years. The space was small, but the part of my heart that held the hope I had in the barely existent relationship with my mother feels like a giant crater spewing acid and darkness through my body.
Having my own mother tell me she doesn’t really love me and never could, after raising me and actually saying the words a handful of times, it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever felt. And I lost someone very dear to me a few years ago in a horrible way. When I had my wisdom teeth taken out, they had to cut and drill into my jaw, which I was awake for. I’m allergic to most pain medicines, so I couldn’t take anything strong enough to help the pain afterwards. Even that was not as painful as this.
Hannah stayed with me all weekend, but had to go home late last night because we both have work today. She didn’t want to leave my side, but I thought if she stayed the night or I stayed the night with her, it would give me the perfect comfort and crutch to keep me from actually getting up and getting back to reality. I know Hannah would have called out of work if she saw me unable to get myself moving. I couldn’t let her do that.
I pull my head out from under my pillow, press my face into the top of the pillow, and scream as loudly as I can. The muffled scream sounds choked and distant, but it feels good. I take a deep breath and let another scream rip over my vocal chords. I try to imagine all the dark bitterness that is rotting my gut and heart rushing out of my mouth and being destroyed in the morning light that’s cutting through the gap in my curtains.
Feeling slightly less heavy and cold, I crawl out of bed and head for the bathroom. I take a quick shower, brush my teeth, do my hair, and then get dressed. When I get downstairs, I stare into the fridge trying to figure out what to eat. Everything I see makes my stomach churn. I don’t even feel hungry. I just grab a bottle of water and close the door. While I drink the water, I start gathering my things for work.
When I pick up my laptop bag, I notice a piece of paper sticking out of the front pocket. I put my stuff down and pull the torn notebook page from the pocket. I unfold the paper and a wide smile spreads across my face. It’s from Hannah. I wonder when she had a chance to write this and tuck it in here.
Brooke – my love,
I cannot imagine the pain you are feeling right now, but know that I am hurting with you. I love you so very much and it makes my heart ache to see you in so much pain. I do not have words to make this better, or to make you hurt less, but I hope that the love I have for you can ease some of the pain and give you strength. Please know that I am here for you, whatever you need. Please do not be afraid to ask me for anything. I love you, Brooke. I will be thinking about you every second we are apart and telling you, I love you, a million times over in my heart. I hope today is not too terribly difficult to get through. If you need me, please call or text me.
With all my heart and love,
Hannah
I wipe a tear from my eye and kiss the handwritten letter. It is so simple, yet so beautiful and warming. I can’t believe I ever considered not allowing myself to be attracted to and pursuing a relationship with Hannah. The loss I sustained this weekend, would in no way compare to the loss of Hannah. I think I would die from a broken heart if that were to happen. She is the first person to truly love me as deeply and as expressively as I have always needed.
I pull my phone out and send her a text. Her day starts an hour after mine, but she should be awake by now.
Me: Good morning, gorgeous. I found your note. Thank you for your kind, beautiful words. I honestly feel stronger after reading them. I’m sorry you had to witness that ugliness and my weakness this weekend. But thank you for staying with me and helping me to get through it. I love you.
Her response comes in quickly and makes me smile and blush .
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Hannah: Babe, please don’t be sorry at all. I’m happy that I was there when you needed me. I would have been so upset if you had been alone when that happened. You are not weak, Brooke. You are the strongest person I know. I love you very much. Are you going into work today?
Me: Yes. I was getting ready to head out the door when I saw your beautiful note.
Hannah: Ok, please be careful and don’t hesitate to call or text if you need me. I may not be able to answer right away if I’m with a client, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If you decide you just need to take the day and you don’t want to be alone, just tell me and I’ll get Mr. Shiro to call someone in to cover the rest of my shift.
Me: Ok, thank you. Unless my mother shows up at the office to tell me all of the regrets she has in keeping me, I don’t think I will be leaving work.
Hannah: I really want to hold you right now. I love you.
Me: I love you too. I guess I better get going. Thanks again. You are amazing.
Hannah: So are you. Talk to you soon, love.
I reluctantly put my phone away, grab my bags, and head for the door. Just as I’m about to step outside, I freeze. It’s pouring as if it’s April and not July. The rain actually makes me smile. It makes me feel like the sky can feel the weight of my heart and is crying with me. While I continue to cry inside, the sky has ripped open its soul and its gushing tears upon the earth for me. I grab an umbrella out of my foyer closet and make a dash for my car, skipping over small puddles.
When I get to work, my inbox is flooded with emails just as badly as the intersection in front of my office building was with rain runoff. I really wish they would fix that drain there. Every time it rains, the intersection floods with at least six inches of water, which typically causes a backup with people moving slowly and cautiously through the little pond.
I’m grateful I don’t have any outside appointments today. For one, I just don’t have the energy to put up a professional front for any clients. And for another, while the rain is comforting in a sense, I don’t want to be driving in it or having to get in and out of the car in it.