But sharper than the almost overwhelming pity I felt for her was the cold knowledge that she hadn’t protected her son. The memories of scars, deep and old, the ones that stretched as he grew from a little boy to a man, bombarded me. Savage, vicious, relentless. How do you survive something like that? How do you survive being rejected over and over again by the person you tried to protect? Were still trying to protect?
I had to get away before I got back in my truck and flattened her car to the ground.
“You know Daniel?”
Her voice was deep and unnaturally raspy—I immediately envisioned thick fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing and damaging the vocal cords. Horrible. But not worse than what had happened to Daniel. A child.
I tried not to run back to my truck but the urge was almost too strong. “I fixed his Jeep. I can fix your car. Just bring it in. I’m sorry, I have to go.” I yanked open my door.
There was a harsh, hoarse sound that stopped me. I didn’t realize it was laughter until I saw her face. Her eyeliner was cinched tight around her eyes and one eyelid was drooped in a way that prevented it from blinking normally. They narrowed at me.
“Whatever he told you, he’s a liar.”
I didn’t slam my door. I pressed it closed until the latch caught. The woman behind me wasn’t my mom. I didn’t feel the same paralyzing urge to hide when confronted with her. My feelings were much more violent, and I let them heat my words when I turned to her.
“I don’t know you. I don’t even really know your son. But I saw his body and I can see what you’re trying to hide on yours. I don’t think he’s the liar.”
This tiny, frail-looking woman, the kind who made you want to protect her on sight, scanned me from head to toe. She had a smile that was almost as beautiful as my mom’s. “What are you, fifteen? I guess he’ll end up in prison anyway.”
* * *
Her parting words and the soul-sucking heat left me wilted inside and out by the time I pulled in to the church, the same one my parents had been married in. The building itself was one of those older styles, crisp white with a steeple and a bell that rang when services were about to start. It was ringing as I hurried inside and almost ran into a woman with fiery red hair and dimples that matched her son’s.
“Oh, no. Sweetie, you got roasted, didn’t you?”
Sean’s mom, Mrs. Addison, stopped seconds before pulling me into a hug. “Well, I can’t even touch you, can I?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said, feeling worse because Mrs. Addison always hugged me like I was her favorite person in the world. She was easily one of mine. My misery increased when I caught myself looking past her for Sean, knowing he had to be nearby.
She clucked her tongue. “What do you have against sunblock?”
“I put it on, I swear, but it must have washed off.”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Addison stroked her hand over my hair. I almost asked her to stop. It felt too nice, too much like a mom. A real one. Not the mockery that Daniel had or the pathetic excuse mine was.
She asked about Dad and I told her about the car auction, starting every time someone new came around the corner. Mrs. Addison’s expression softened.
“You want me to find him for you?”
If I could have turned redder I would have, but I didn’t feign ignorance, not with Sean’s mom. “No, that’s okay.”
“So you’re all alone? You can always come stay with us. Sean loves sleeping on the couch.”
Sean hated that couch almost as much as he hated cross-country, but as the youngest Addison, he always had to give up his room when they had company. He’d do it for me, but I could barely sleep in my own house—sharing one with Sean would be a million times worse. Sliding past him in the hallways, catching him fresh from the shower with his hair still damp, getting squished together on a sofa while his brothers crowded in on either side...
No.
On top of that, I didn’t think I could take much more of the attention Mrs. Addison would lavish on me. It couldn’t be good for me, like the way they don’t let dehydrated people chug a ton of water at first or they’d throw up.
“No, I don’t—”
“Rick,” she called over my shoulder. “Jill’s coming home with us for the night. Look.” She turned me around to face her husband. “She’s a roasted orphan until tomorrow.”
Mr. Addison looked down at me. “What do you have against sunblock?”
I opened my mouth to explain then shut it with a sigh. “Really, I’m fine. It’s one more night. But thank you.” I smiled back and forth between the two of them and tried to look like I wasn’t in pain. I showed all my teeth.
“You’re sure?” Mrs. Addison was searching my face, her expression so full of concern and...something else that hit me right in the gut. It was the polar opposite of the expression I’d seen on Daniel’s mom. One my own mom hadn’t worn in a long time.
A little girl darted from behind me and I couldn’t keep from wincing as she brushed my legs. And then I winced again remembering. “I’m supposed to help in the nursery.”
Mrs. Addison shook her head. “No, you’re going home to soak in a nice baking soda bath. I’ll fill in for you. Do you want Rick to drive you? Or...” She looked to her husband and then nodded her head toward the sanctuary. “Rick, go get Sean.”
“No!” They both turned at my outburst. “I don’t need a ride. I will go home though. If you don’t mind the nursery.”
“It’s already done. You go on. And come over later if you feel better or you want to feel better.” Then she kissed my cheek. It hurt. It was also the best thing I’d felt in way too long.
Before Mrs. Addison could change her mind and insist that some member of her family drive me home, I bolted for the parking lot.
The truck felt even hotter driving home. By the time I pulled in to my garage, I was so miserable that I missed seeing the new car parked out front.
I gingerly climbed out of the truck, choked in a lungful of sweltering air, and was about to close the garage when someone called my name.
“Jill?”
It was a testimony to how completely awful I felt that I didn’t immediately recognize her voice. I turned around and saw her close her car door and walk toward me, lovely as ever in a dark red wrap dress with her rich brown hair falling in waves down her back.
“Mom?”
CHAPTER 25
I took two steps toward her before I realized what I was doing and forced my legs to stop. Either Mom didn’t notice or she chose to ignore the fact that I wasn’t going to meet her halfway.
She crossed into the shade of the garage and stopped a few feet from me. Her big brown eyes filled with tears as she looked at me. “Jill...”
She was going to hug me. Pull me close to her and wrap her arms around me. I made a noise and stepped back.
I hadn’t seen Mom in months. Hadn’t heard a single word from her all summer. Nothing. It was like she had died. Or I had.
Despite everything, it was harder than I’d expected not to go to her. I wanted her to hold me. I wanted it bad enough that I could already see myself swaying toward her.
I started to shove all the hurt out of my head. I wanted it to be like it was, before the fighting, before she did what she did, before she left. But it could never be like that.
“No, don’t,” I said. “I...I got sunburned yesterday.”
She lowered her arms in jerky movements, like it hurt her not to hug me as much as it would have hurt me to let her. I saw her take note of my red skin, and she nodded. “Oh, honey.” Her words were the same as Sean’s mom. The concern in her voice almost sounded the same too. “With your skin, you have to be really careful in the sun.”
I nodded like she hadn’t told me that a million times. It was so easy to slip b
ack into the way things were, to pretend like the last months hadn’t happened. Much longer than that, really.
“Did you put aloe vera on?”
I nodded again.
“What about vitamin E?”
“I just used aloe.”
“I think I left a bottle under the sink in my bathroom.” She took my hand and we started to go inside.
I followed along for a step or two before reality sank in again. “M-Mom...why are you here?”
“Didn’t you know I called?”
I did the nodding thing again. Standing that close to her, I was finding it difficult to string more than a few words together. “But why?”
She led me back so that we were both leaning against the truck, then realized she was still holding my hand and let it go. “I’ve missed you. I hear you’ve been running?”
Cue the nodding from me.
She smiled. She was so beautiful. A lot of people think their moms are beautiful, but mine really was.
We went to the grocery store one time after she’d been sick with the flu. Even with unwashed hair, no makeup and a sickly cast to her skin, the bag boys fairly fought over themselves to see who would help carry our half-full bag of groceries to the car.
I’d kind of gotten used to it, in the way people got used to seeing the Grand Canyon. Even when you saw it every day, it was still the Grand Canyon.
“You look wonderful. Not an ounce of baby fat.” Her eyes danced over my face much in the same way I knew mine were dancing over hers. “Oh, I wanted to show you!”
She reached into her purse and pulled out something small and shiny. “I got a new cell phone. It does a million things that I don’t understand, but I know how to answer it when it rings.” She laughed, then reached around me and found my phone in my bag. I watched as she added her number to my contacts. “There.” She slipped it back in my bag. “Now you can call me whenever you want.”
Whenever I wanted.
After a moment she said, “Anything else happen while I was gone? You didn’t get a tattoo, did you?” She bumped my shoulder with hers while she spoke, as if instead of leaving Dad and abandoning me, she’d gone on some kind of trip and now that she was back, everything could go back to normal. Except normal didn’t exist anymore.
And just like that, the spell of her being there again was broken.
“Don’t. Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Her smile was bright.
“Don’t act like nothing happened.”
Her smile faded but she tried again. “You’re right. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I want to hear all about your summer.”
Part of me wished I could pretend the way she did. Life would be so much easier if you could just wave away the parts you didn’t like with a toss of your hair.
“So much has happened.”
“Oh, just start at the beginning, then. And don’t leave anything out.” She scooted closer to me and I could feel her happiness radiating from her like the heat from the still warm engine beneath me.
I counted the seconds it took for her happiness to wither once I started talking. It took two.
“The night after you left Dad sat up until morning. I know because I heard him calling your cell phone over and over—the one you deactivated.” I watched her smile completely die before I continued. “I don’t think either one of us spoke for an entire week except to answer the phone.”
“That’s enough.” Her voice was low and firm, mine was calm and almost dreamlike.
“Why? You wanted to know what I’ve been doing all summer. I’m telling you. I wasn’t home when Aunt Jodi picked up the rest of your stuff, but I could tell just looking at Dad’s face the day she came.”
“Stop it, Jill.”
“He didn’t cry anymore after that.”
“I said stop it!”
“Why? That’s what happened. You should know what you did.” My calm snapped and I pushed away from the truck and spun to face her. “Why didn’t you ever come see me? You never even called me.”
“I wanted to call, wanted to come see you, but I couldn’t.”
I was nodding like an idiot and trying not to cry. I wrapped my arms around myself and held them there even though the movement pulled on my skin and hurt.
“I tried, Jill. I tried for so long. Your dad, he’s not the easiest person to love.”
Wrong. It was all wrong. Everything she was saying. “He’s the easiest person on earth to love.”
Her smile was patronizing. “I’m glad you see him that way, I really am.” She took in my sweat-drenched appearance and fanned herself with her hand. “Come on.” She held her hand out to me. “Let’s go inside. If I’m this hot I can’t imagine what the heat is doing to your sunburn.”
It hurt. A lot. But not more than the idea of her in our house. Dad’s and mine. She didn’t belong there anymore. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be brave for me. You’ll feel better once you’ve cooled down. I’ll even make you a smoothie, hmm? Strawberry and banana.”
Strawberry and banana was my favorite. Had been since I was little. It was Dad’s favorite too. “No. I don’t want you inside.”
That stopped her. “Jill.” There was hurt in her voice. Reproach.
I felt the old inclination to obey, to cave. She was still my mom. But she was the mom who left me. In my mind, she’d abdicated her role long ago. I didn’t owe her anything anymore. Not obedience, not respect, not love.
“You won’t be here much longer,” I said. “Just tell me what you came here for and you can get back into your air-conditioned car and leave.”
“Jill!” That was about as speechless as Mom was ever rendered and I reveled in it.
“Mom!” My tone was mocking and her face crumbled before smoothing out again.
“Do you hate me so much now?”
“No.” I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. My voice was even, blasé, like I was giving my opinion on the merits of one ice cream flavor over another. “I don’t hate you. I don’t anything you.”
I could almost see inside her head, see her realize she was losing control of the situation. So she went straight for the kill.
“I didn’t want any of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Yeah, you seemed real broken up about it in the Post-it note you left.”
I’d meant to hurt her with my words. Spark some semblance of remorse from her with the memory, or at least relieve some of the pressure in my chest. But she didn’t react at all the way I wanted. Instead of being cowed, she advanced on me.
“I couldn’t stay any longer. I was suffocating. You can’t know what that felt like.”
I wanted to laugh at her audacity.
“I was unhappy.”
“And now you’re happy? Good. Because Dad and I aren’t. I’d hate to think you did this to us and got nothing for yourself in return.” I was breathing heavily. Sweat was dripping off my face and my fingers were digging into my arms so hard that the skin was turning white at the edges. Painful as this situation was, I was glad to finally be telling her this. I couldn’t unload on Dad. He was dealing with his own pain. And he didn’t even know about Sean. But I could let it out on her. Every last vestige of hurt. She should know exactly what her happiness cost.
But instead of answering me, she pulled back. “Maybe this is a bad time. I should come back later.”
She was so predictable. She wasn’t happy in her marriage, so she left. I was making her feel uncomfortable, and once again she wanted to leave. Why actually deal with something when you could run away from it?
I hated that I’d learned that from her.
“No, trust me, your timing is perfect.” And it was, in a sadistic sort of way. My
sunburn felt unbelievably bad and it had been just hours since my first vomit-laced kiss from a guy I had started to dream about.
“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she said. “That was the last thing I wanted.”
“What did you want?”
“I wanted a chance to be me. Not someone’s wife, or someone’s mother, but just me, just Katheryn.”
She hadn’t even been looking at me when she spoke, more just staring off at...something. Her dreams? I didn’t know and I so didn’t care. And that was fine. All of it. The sunburn would fade and peel away. Daniel and I were done before we even started. And Mom? She was going to do exactly what she wanted anyway.
“Oh, Jill. Sometimes you have to put yourself first.” She put her hand on my arm and squeezed.
I was glad for the pain it caused.
“Sometimes?” I almost didn’t have the energy to tell her how full of it she was. Almost. “That’s all you ever did! You put your happiness, your life above everyone else’s. You took everything you ever wanted! Even if it was mine!” My vision blurred for a moment and I shook my head to fling all those memories away.
My voice dropped to a low hiss. “You broke Dad. Do you know that? You broke the man who loved you, who would have done anything for you, for your happiness. You threw him away. You threw me away. I cannot imagine a more selfish, heartless person than you, Katheryn.”
She was crying in that pretty way of hers, the one that made people want to comfort her, but I didn’t care.
“I’m tired and I’m hot and I don’t have anything else to say to you. Tell me what it is you want, then get out of my house.”
She cried some more, but it didn’t touch me. I’d seen Dad cry. Her tears were nothing in comparison.
Finally she sniffed. “I was hoping you’d have forgiven me.”
“Why? You never apologized.”
She shook her head and blotted the tears from her cheeks, careful not to smear her mascara. “I can’t apologize for leaving, Jill. It was the right thing for me.”
If I Fix You Page 14