by Jamie Beck
My jaw hurts from too much clenching, and I’m perspiring. Granted, it’s hot and humid today, but that’s not the cause of my discomfort. I’m staring out the passenger window, gathering my thoughts, when Lindsey’s hand pats my forearm. I haven’t felt this much trepidation since my adolescence. It must be obvious, because Lindsey’s eyes fill with concern.
“Levi, are you ready? We can sit here if you’re not. Or I can drive around a little.”
Lindsey’s support, like cashmere-wrapped steel, saves me. I lift her hand to my lips to kiss it. A surge of uneasy emotions renders me unable to express my gratitude, so I deflect with a compliment.
“You look real pretty today, by the way.” Smiling, I open the door. If I don’t move forward right now, I’ll retreat.
As we walk up the driveway, she takes hold of my hand.
“You know,” Lindsey says, “if she’s not here, we should get a strong drink before we come back. Maybe we should have done that first, actually.” She smiles, trying to help me relax.
I appreciate her effort, but my heart’s still slamming in my chest with each footstep toward Mama’s front door. I can’t turn back now.
I ring the doorbell and step back, holding my breath. Lindsey squeezes my hand with both of hers. “No matter what happens, Levi, I’m right here with you.”
The door opens and, through the screen, I see Mama. She’s older, but it’s her. She’s still a wisp of a thing, with the palest hair and eyes . . . a ghostly reminder of unbearable pain. Her former beauty’s muted by age, despite her being only forty-nine. She mustn’t recognize me at first, because she looks at Lindsey.
“Can I help you?” she asks, but then tilts her head and narrows her eyes when glancing back at me. I know I resemble my pop, so I wait an extra second before speaking, giving her an opportunity to realize who I am. I feel Lindsey fidget beside me.
“Hello, Mama.” I stand still, peering through the screen door. Lindsey’s got my arm in a death grip.
Mama steps back slightly and whispers, “Levi?”
She looks haunted, which pleases me. Seconds pass while the two of us stare at each other. When she doesn’t open the door, I break the silence.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s been so long. There’s much to talk about.”
I hadn’t intended to be sarcastic right off the bat, but the cork on my bottled-up rage has been blown off by more than twenty years of pressure. Now I wish Lindsey weren’t here to witness my fury, but it’s too late.
Mama struggles to regain her composure.
“Levi, I can’t. You can’t be here. I’ll meet you tomorrow, anywhere but here.” She’s pleading, but I have no sympathy.
“Sorry, Mama. I flew across the country to see you. My return flight leaves tomorrow morning, so we’ll be talking here and now.” I reach for the screen door.
“No, Levi. Please, go.” Her frightened eyes search mine for mercy but find none. “My husband will be home soon. He doesn’t know about you. Please!”
Foolishly, even after all these years, some tiny part of me had hoped she’d welcome the chance to meet me. Embarrassed by my stupidity, my mood darkens.
“Well, then, the longer you delay me on the porch, the more likely I’ll be meeting my stepdad, I suppose.”
Lindsey tugs on my hand, but I shake her off and open the door to my mama’s house. Adrenaline is pumping through me now, so I can barely feel my body.
“You’re a selfish man.” Mama’s eyes narrow with contempt.
Fixing a smug smile on my face, I rest my chin in my hand and tap my finger against my lips, as if I’m considering her remark.
“I suppose I inherited that trait from you, then, didn’t I?”
Without invitation, I brush past her, waltz into the tiny living room, and wait for her and Lindsey to join me.
Lindsey
His mother’s mouth falls open after his insult. I’m desperately seeking a way to smooth things over, then her brittle voice splinters my thoughts.
“I can see your daddy’s manners rubbed off on you. You look like him. Tell me . . . are you a no-good hustler like him, too? Did he put you up to this, to shake me down or something?”
Her haughty tone and lack of remorse embitter me. Levi’s camouflaging his emotions, but I’m sure he hurts. Of course, I had warned him an ambush wouldn’t be pleasant.
Levi’s icy stare, though directed at her, makes me shiver. I hold my breath, unsure what he’ll say next.
“Don’t speak ill of the dead, Mama. Pop may not have been the best man, but at least he didn’t abandon his child. In the scheme of things, your sins are at least as bad.”
I’m standing apart from them, rubbing the fabric of my skirt between my fingers, when Levi smiles at me.
“Where are my manners?” He reaches toward me. “Mama, this is my friend Miss Lindsey Hilliard. Lindsey, this is Mama.”
“Hi.” I extend my hand to her. “I’m sorry to meet you under these, um, circumstances.”
She hesitates before shaking my hand, then returns her attention to Levi. “Okay, Levi. What do you want? Do you need money?”
Her obnoxious attitude and accusation piss me off. It’s a struggle to keep quiet.
Levi sneers and nonchalantly promenades around her living room. He picks up a photograph of her and her husband and studies it before returning it to the table. I suspect he intends his leisurely pace to heighten her anxiety. It seems to be working. I also suspect it’s helping him find his own footing. For all his threats, there’s still a hurt little boy buried under all the hate on display.
“I don’t need your money, Mama. I came here for answers. I know how my life turned out, but I’m curious about yours.”
He takes a seat on the sofa and crosses one foot across the opposite knee as if we have all day. He grins at me and pats the cushion beside him, so I join him on the couch.
His mother glances at the clock on the mantel and then sits on a chair near the sofa. She observes me, probably wondering why I’m a party to this reunion.
“Lindsey? Perhaps you’d prefer to wait on the porch.” She starts to rise from her chair. “I’m happy to get you a beverage.”
“She’s fine right here with me.” Levi pins his mother with his eyes.
Much as I’d love to bolt from this powder keg, I can’t desert him. Although he came with guns blazing, his mother hasn’t done or said a kind or contrite thing since we’ve arrived. I’m convinced his behavior’s largely a reaction to her chilly demeanor.
She sighs. Her only option is to satisfy his curiosity.
I don’t know what I expected today, but I’d thought she’d have shown some sign of remorse or interest in Levi. Instead, she’s merely interested in getting rid of him—again. My angry thoughts are interrupted by her next remark.
“Fine. What do you want to know? This is where I live, this is how my life turned out.” She straightens her spine and sits back into her chair.
Levi pauses, staring through her. “Where’d you go when you left?”
Her cheek twitches. “At first I went to Houston for a few years. When my daddy got sick, I returned to Tifton.” She looks to her lap and toys with her skirt. “After his death eighteen months later, I moved to Atlanta.”
Donning an exaggerated, mocking frown, Levi leans forward. “Grandpappy’s dead? Sorry I missed the funeral. The invitation must’ve been lost in the mail.” He then tips his head sideways, like he often does when he’s discerning something. “So, you’ve been here since then. When’d you remarry?”
“Thirteen years ago. John’s a decent man. Honest.”
“Huh.” Levi grins. “Odd how you value his honesty but don’t pay him the respect of giving him yours.”
His mother smarts at his remark, briefly averting her eyes.
Levi leans toward her, his jaw firmly set. “Do I have any siblings?”
My eyes involuntarily pop open. Could Levi have siblings? I’d never considered the possibili
ty. God, I hope not. If she’s borne and kept other children, it’ll only compound his pain.
For the first time this afternoon, her tone softens.
“No, Levi. I never had any other children.”
I notice relief flicker across his face. In a flash, he dons his stony mask once more.
Levi and his mother sit in silence for what seems like forever. He’s waiting for her to say more, but she refuses. In my mind, I imagine grabbing his mother by her shoulders and physically shaking her, as if my aggression will force her to apologize to her son and beg for his forgiveness.
Finally, Levi speaks again, in quiet, anguished tones.
“Why, Mama? Why’d you leave me?”
Her gaze fixes upon her hands, which remain folded in her lap, white knuckles visible to all.
“I was pregnant at seventeen. By eighteen, I was a mother and married to a handsome charmer who turned out to be a cheat and a low-life liar. I did the best I could, for as long as I could, but I didn’t want to live that way—in shame, with regret. It was no life for me. Your daddy wouldn’t change. So, after too many squabbles, I left.”
“You escaped a bad life.” Levi’s dead-calm voice alarms me.
“Yes, I did.”
“So, either I was part of what made that life bad, or you left me to grow up in a bad life. Which is it, and why?”
There it is—the crux of the matter, the root of Levi’s insecurities and intimacy issues. I wish I could throw myself around him like a shield.
Surprisingly, his mother’s emotions finally inundate her and unshed tears dampen her eyes. Her voice breaks apart a bit when she answers.
“I doubt there’s any answer to satisfy you. It wasn’t an easy choice, despite how it may have appeared to you. At the time, it seemed the best option. If I took you, I’d have always been tied to Jim. But more importantly, I knew in my heart I wasn’t meant to be a mother. Other mothers bonded with their babies. But I never did. I never did, Levi. Maybe I was too young or too unhappy with Jim, or maybe I’m simply not meant to be anyone’s mother.”
“That’s it? You weren’t meant to be a mother?” He locks his eyes on hers so she can’t evade him. “But you are a mother.”
Her penitent comportment swiftly reverts to antipathy. “Don’t make me out to be a monster. I didn’t abort you, which, at seventeen, surely crossed my mind.” Her venomous retort knocks Levi back a minute, and his retreat emboldens her. “I tried to be your mother, but I couldn’t. Do you condemn women who give their babies up for adoption? I left you with your father. I didn’t leave you in the streets or foster care.”
Levi squeezes my hand so tightly I bite back a yelp. I notice his lower lip quiver, but can’t tell if he’s furious or despondent, until he speaks. His palpable raw pain lashes my heart. I’m in over my head and don’t know how to help.
“You think you’re a saint because you didn’t kill me? Jesus, that’s fucked up.” Levi’s features change shape as his rage deepens. “You didn’t make some grand sacrifice by giving up your infant to some lovin’ family for a better life. I wasn’t a baby, Mama. I was nine. You knew me. You knew I loved you. You never even said good-bye or wrote me a damned letter.” He draws a deep breath. “You left me with a man you hated, not respected. A man you knew couldn’t give me a stable home. You did that to me, after nearly a decade as my mother.”
A tear slips from his eye, but he wipes it away in disgusted anger. He’s trembling. If I could scoop him up and run, I would. But he’s not making any move to leave.
His mother’s remorse has long subsided. I shudder in anticipation of her next response.
“What else do you want me to say? I’ve told you, I’m not mother material. It’s why I never had more kids. It was too much.” She leans closer to him. “You needed too much attention. Always ‘Mama this’ and ‘Mama that.’ You’d cling to me constantly. When I was cooking, you’d be hooked around my ankles like a monkey. When I was napping, you’d crawl beside me and squirm around. When I was watching TV, you’d interrupt me with your laughing and playing. You suffocated me.”
Levi’s astonished face collapses under the weight of his mother’s blame. Outraged by her insensitivity, I abruptly stand and stomp my foot.
“Shut up!” I stare at her and, God forgive me, embrace my lack of filter. “How dare you? How dare you make Levi responsible, in any way, for your pathetically weak choice? You’ve just described a loving, adoring son. The kind of child any mother would be blessed to have.” I shake my head. “But the worst of it isn’t even that you left. It’s that you never looked back, never apologized, and never asked for forgiveness.”
Avoiding Levi’s eyes, I continue my rant. “Your son’s a beautiful man. But you damaged his soul, leaving scars so deep he’s afraid to trust anyone. Yet still you show no remorse. You’ve spent this afternoon defending and protecting yourself. Now that I’ve met you, I agree with your self-assessment—you aren’t mother material!” Disgust courses through my body.
I reach out my hand to Levi. “Levi, we’re leaving. You shouldn’t be here anymore.”
His mother doesn’t let my insults pass without comment. “Missy, I, too, got drawn in by a handsome face. If Levi’s closed off, that comes from him, not from what I did. You’d better watch out or you’ll end up running, like me.”
Her self-satisfied insult pushes me too far. Without thinking, I whirl around and slap her cheek. “I’m nothing like you.”
Levi’s shock snaps me back to reality. I rub my own hand, surprised by my outburst. I’ve never, in my life, hit anyone. His mother stands, with her hand on her cheek, staring at me with her eyebrows raised.
On our way out the door, Levi pauses to face his mother one final time.
“In case you’re curious, I stayed with Pop until I turned eighteen, then I left and built a good life for myself. Pop died in May and left me your address.” He turns to go, then faces her once more. “I’ve imagined this meeting many times over the years. Can’t say it went as I might have hoped, but I’m glad I learned the truth. At least now I know I’d have been worse off if you’d stayed with me. I finally have peace, not that you care. I won’t be disturbing you again, ma’am.”
He inclines his head and we walk out the door.
His last-ditch effort to share something about his life with that awful woman, to make her know him in any way, rips my heart apart. She doesn’t deserve to know him.
Levi falls deadly quiet during the entire ride back to the hotel.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Levi
I keep my eyes closed in the car. I refuse to break down in front of Lindsey, but am having a hell of a time assimilating all my feelings. Mama’s remarks replay, over and again, in my mind. Christ, she’s hateful. A frigid bitch of a woman. Thank God she didn’t have any more kids.
Lindsey’s right, I was better off without Mama in my life. That woman resents me, as if I chose to be born just to ruin her life. Comparing herself to selfless women who give up babies for adoption. She’s crazy.
Yet I can’t shut out the little voice that wonders whether she’d have stuck it out with me if I’d been less clingy.
Lindsey’s long sigh breaks my concentration. Boy, she sure got fired up. I still can’t believe she smacked my mama. I couldn’t even react at the time. Just watched it unfold like a movie.
I shouldn’t have dragged her into this mess. No doubt she’ll consider all she’s learned about my genetics and run from me as soon as we get back to California.
Damaged soul. That’s how Lindsey sees me. A beautiful man with a damaged soul. She thinks I was made, not born, this way.
But maybe it doesn’t even matter how I became distant. I am distant. Lindsey deserves someone who isn’t detached and fucked up. God forbid she ends up with the wrong person and becomes unhappy like my mama.
“Levi, will you talk to me?” Lindsey asks as she pulls into the parking garage. “Please say something.”
I don’t kno
w what I expected from the day, but now I just want to escape her and her questions before she sees my weakness. “I can’t talk now. Sorry.”
“Are you mad at me for how I spoke to your mother—for slapping her?” A tiny whimper escapes her throat. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. Exploding is so unlike me. Please don’t be mad.”
She chases me through the hotel’s parking garage, reaching for my hand. I yank it away, still averting eye contact.
“I’m not mad at you.” I shift my gaze to the buttons inside the elevator. “But I need to be alone for a while.”
“No.” She grabs for me again. “Levi, look at me. I came all this way for you. The least you can do is look at me. Don’t push me away.”
I take her by her arms and shove her away.
“Lindsey, leave me be. Please.” Thankfully, the elevator doors open, providing an escape. I stalk into the hall and dash toward my room, but she’s on my heels. “Darlin’, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I don’t want you to see me this way.” I’m losing the battle against the swelling tide of self-pity. “Please, let it lie.”
Unfortunately, as usual, Lindsey’s undeterred by the word no. She slips into my room behind me, refusing to respect my wishes. Ignoring her, I head straight to the minibar, find some vodka, and then sit on the edge of my bed.
She kneels in front of me. She gently clasps her hand around the bottle, trying to pry it away from me.
Her other hand rests on my thigh, and I suddenly ache with a startling need.
“Please don’t run away, not when I feel closer to you than ever. There’s no shame in feeling vulnerable after such a painful experience. I won’t think less of you. I’ll still be here.”
I let go because right now I’m too weak to fight my way out of a wet paper bag. Her compassion undermines my determination, and my tears flow. Damn it, I’ve never cried in front of any woman.