When he meets my eyes again, they are shining with unshed tears. He reaches for my hand and pulls me into a tight embrace. Mumbling into the limited space in between us, he says, “It’s so good to finally meet you, Reid.” He breaks his embrace and takes a step back. I realize that in the two minutes that I’ve known Joe Donovan, he’s shown me more emotion than my father did in the seventeen years that I lived with him.
Okay, fine. I take it back. He’s not a prick.
When my brain starts to function again, I say, “And it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Donovan. Thank you for allowing me to drive Katie home. It was nice to spend some time with her. And thank you for welcoming me into your home.” My words are overly polite; I know I don’t sound like myself. I’m trying to over compensate for just mentally cursing him out. The sugary sweet tone of words is nearly comical. Even Katie is looking at me like she doesn’t even recognize the person standing next to her.
A small chuckle escapes his mouth. “It’s Joe. Please call me Joe. And it’s not my home. This is our home. That includes you too, Reid.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes tightly. I feel like I’ve entered some kind of alternate universe. I’m overwhelmed by the need to pinch myself to see if what’s going on is really happening.
We walk up the steps of the porch and into the entry way of the house to escape the cold December air. Before he opens the door, he turns to look at me. “I mean that, Reid. I know it’s been too long since you’ve been a part of your mom’s life, but in her heart, this has always been where you belong. She’s just been too afraid to go to you.” Joe’s voice is laced with sadness.
I’m still kind of speechless. I don’t know what to say, so naturally, I stumble over my words and sound like an ass doing so. “Um…well…thanks.” It’s lame, but it’s all I’ve got.
Stepping inside, the warmth, not only in temperature, but in emotion, bathes over me. It really is a home. The small living room is directly to the side of the narrow entryway, and even though it’s small, it’s cozy and not in any way cramped. It’s colored in varying shades of blue, and instead of being over-done, the room is calming and peaceful. There’s a recliner and a small loveseat facing a modest television. The side and end tables are covered in family pictures.
My stomach drops and my eyes mist over when I catch sight of the mantle. I walk slowly over to it and with trembling hands, I reach out for the framed picture before me. It’s of me and Shane, dressed in our little league uniforms. I think he was fourteen and I was twelve. We’re smiling and laughing, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders in a brotherly embrace. He looks happy and me, well it’s simple – I am in awe of my older brother, my hero.
Replacing that picture, I look at the others, which are all perfectly placed in an almost shrine-like fashion. They are all of me and Shane. I realize that even though we may have been absent from mom’s life physically, we’ve been in her heart every single day.
It does little to moderate the anger I feel at her for everything, though. If she loves us this much, to see us in her life every day, why hasn’t she done anything about it?
Joe steps behind me and claps a hand on my shoulder. “She loves you. You have to know that. And she loved Shane too. She messed up and she knows it, but she never knew how to make it right. She’s asleep right now. Why don’t we sit down and get to know each other a little?”
He moves to the side and allows me to walk past him. He takes a seat in the recliner. It’s obviously his spot. I settle into the pale blue love seat and try to take everything in. Katie sits next to me and scans the room. When her gaze falls on an empty corner, her brows knit together in confusion.
“Where’s the Christmas tree, Dad?” There’s excitement in her voice.
Joe turns to his side while still sitting in the chair in order to get a better look at the corner where the tree is apparently supposed to go. “Oh, well, with all of Rebecca’s appointments and trying to pick up a few overtime shifts, I haven’t had a chance to get one.” I can see the stress and worry in his eyes. From what I can tell, things have been more difficult around here than he’s letting on with Katie.
“We can go get one this weekend if you want though, sweetie. It’ll be fun. We’ll watch It’s a Wonderful Life and decorate just like we do every year.” Joe’s offer brings a smile to Katie’s face and I can tell that it has always been his mission in life to make his daughter happy.
“Deal. Okay you two. I’m going to go grab a few things from the truck and head up to my room. I’ll let you guys chat for a bit.” She walks past her father and leans down to kiss him on the cheek. When she’s behind him, she looks at me and holds her hand up by her face and mouths the words, “talk to him” while opening and closing her hand mimicking the motion of a duck beak. I can’t help but laugh at her antics. She’s pretty damn funny.
When she’s out of the room, I look at Joe. I’m pretty sure he can see the nervousness in my eyes. It’s not that he’s making me nervous. I actually feel comfortable with him. The thought of facing my past is what’s wrecking me. I run my sweaty palms over my thighs as if doing so will help me come up with some way to break this long, awkward silence.
Completely unable to come up with anything intelligible, I silently hope that he’ll say something before I do.
Wordlessly, he stands from his chair and walks into the kitchen. Returning to the living room, he hands me a Budweiser and he twists the cap off his own. After taking a long pull from the bottle, I say, “Thanks, I needed that.” His lips pull up into a lopsided smile and he nods in agreement.
“So, I imagine that Katie chewed your ear off on the ride over.” He takes another drink of his beer smiling at the thought of his daughter and her animated ways.
“Yeah, she did. It was good, though, I think.” A small chuckle helps to ease the tension building between us. “She filled me in on a lot. I…I didn’t realize that things were so bad. I wish I would have known. I could have helped.” Two weeks ago, I never would have imagined those words coming out of my mouth. I think back over all of the times that I ignored Katie’s calls. If I would have picked up the first one, would I have been able to help? It’s a complete reversal of how I originally felt over all of this, but I’m being completely sincere in expressing my desire to help. I want to make amends. I want to be a part of this family. I want to be a better person and this is my chance to do all of those things.
“Things definitely have not been easy, but we’re getting by. I’ve been able to pick up some overtime and my boss was nice enough to give me today as a comp day because he knew Katie was coming home.” I can tell that the conversation is making him uneasy. We’re essentially picking apart the reasons why he is struggling to support his family. That’s enough to piss off any man.
“Joe, I don’t want to step on any toes here, but I can help. I want to help. You don’t have to answer and we don’t have to talk about it again if you say so, but I still have most of the money from Shane’s lawsuit. I know that Mom must have told you about it. I want you to have some of it, to pay for mom’s bills, to get you on your feet again, to give you some room to breathe.”
That money has always been tainted for me anyway. It’ll be better if someone else uses it instead of me.
He takes another sip of his beer, this one longer, as if he’s trying to swallow back his pride along with the alcohol.
“Thanks, Reid. I’ll think about it.” I hear his voice wobble with unsteady emotion. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s been on him. The man has already lost his first wife in a way that no one should ever have to deal with. Now, he’s watching the woman he loves deteriorate and waste away right before his eyes.
The guilt of everything weighs heavily on me and my words are laced with pure emotion. “Joe, I’m serious. I want to help, and I know it might be difficult for you to accept it, but please let me. Mom wants to patch up our relationship and…well I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but so do I. This is going
to help me put things behind me. You can think about it if you want, but please know that I am going to be here for her and for you and Katie. If paying off her bills will make things lighter around here, and then please let me do it.” I hope he can tell that I’m being sincere, that I’m not trying to wave my money in his face.
I can see him struggling with his decision. I can only imagine being in his position, but I want this. Actually, I need to do this. I’ve made the decision to be the bigger person here, to be the person my parents never were.
When he says, “Okay, Reid. I’ll take you up on your offer,” I want to pump my fist into the air as if I just hit a homerun. Instead, I just extend my beer in his direction. We clink our bottles together and silently toast our secret deal.
Before either of us can say another word, Katie races down the stairs to let us know that Mom is up. I can hear Mom’s footsteps in what I assume is the hallway above me and my nerves return. Both Joe and I stand as tension immediately invades the room.
Joe looks nervous as well. He hasn’t told Mom that I’m here and I can see the panic flit across his face. Katie stands next to him and holds his hand. “Dad, why don’t you go up there and talk to her for a minute. Let her know that Reid is here. It won’t do her any good to be shocked like that. She’s having a good day, so let’s not ruin that for her.” Katie’s voice is calm and even, yet warm and gentle. She’s obviously good under pressure.
Joe leaves us to go talk to Mom, and Katie comes to stand by my side. “It’ll be okay, Reid.” Her soothing words do nothing to slow my racing heart. I wish Maddy was here. She’d be able to defuse my tension. In this moment, I realize just how much of my strength comes from Maddy, from us being a united front against the world.
Katie and I stand, waiting for our parents to descend the stairs for what seems like forever. We hear the loud crash of breaking glass and we both recoil at the noise. I break away from Katie and race up the stairs two at a time. Katie follows behind me, her face etched in concern.
The bathroom door is cracked open and I see Mom crouched down on the floor, her chest heaving in sobs, as she tries to pick up the shards of glass. Joe races into the bathroom from the adjoining bedroom, but Mom is so distracted by her own tears that she doesn’t immediately notice either Joe or me. Joe and I make eye contact over the slumped heap that is my mom on the floor. He nods as he takes a step back, indicating that I should be the one to talk to her.
The bedroom door closes softly; the faint click of the latch is barely audible over the sounds of Mom’s cries. She’s kneeling, but when she catches sight of me squatting down in front of her, her legs give out under her and she falls down onto her behind. Her fingers and knees are covered in blood from the broken glass of water that she was obviously trying to drink. The sight of her blood mingling with the water makes me falter. I’m inundated with images of Shane’s death, but for the first time ever, I am able to push them back. I need to push them back if I’m ever going to have any hope of moving forward.
Grabbing the towel from its holder, I wrap it around her fingers as gently as I can. Holding both of her frail hands in one of mine, I tip her chin up with the other hand so that I can look at her. She’s thin, too thin, and her cheeks are hollow, her eyes flat. My heart constricts because she looks nothing like the mom I remember. Her thin hair is pulled back under a kerchief and her body is frail and weak. She really is dying.
“Hi, Mom.” My voice is shaky and unsteady.
She takes a deep, shuddery breath and looks directly into my eyes. Hers are shining with tears, but there’s amazement there too. I don’t think she ever thought she would see me again. I honestly never thought I’d see her again either.
“Hi, baby.” Her lips curl up into a wondrous smile.
She always called me baby because, well, because I was the baby. Actually, she used to call me baby boy, but over the years of my early childhood, she shortened it to just plain old baby. I didn’t mind it up until I was in middle school. Once she called me baby in front of my friends and they mocked me for weeks. She promised at that point she would never call me baby again. She kept her word when we were in public, but at home, I was always baby. I hated that name; it made my blood boil when my friends used it against me and, for a long time, I harbored a secret hatred for my mom because she gave me the nickname.
But here, crouched on the floor, tending to her bloody fingers, desperately attempting to put the past behind me, I soften to the nickname. My heart swells with love and sadness at the familiarity that I was certain would be gone.
I stand and hold out my hands for her to grasp. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” She takes hold, and I’m surprised at how little effort it takes to heft her nearly weightless body up. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and walk her toward the ledge of the tub. I press the towel to her wounds and then pull it back to inspect them. “It looks like most of the bleeding has stopped. Hold this.” I give her back the towel and press it to her cuts. I open the medicine cabinet and find some first aid supplies to tend to her wounds.
After she’s all bandaged up and the blood is all cleaned from the floor, I sit down next to her and she just looks at me in a state of shock. We sit stiffly next to each other and even though the tub ledge is by far the most uncomfortable thing we could be sitting on, neither of us moves an inch. I can tell that we’re both afraid to say anything. Neither of us knows how to break the silence. We know that once someone starts speaking, our scars will be ripped open and bared before us. So, rather than facing the sins of our past, we sit in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet before the storm.
When my ass starts to go numb, I decide to speak first. “Are you okay? It doesn’t look like you need stitches or anything.” I take her hands in mine to inspect them again. I know nothing has changed, but I need to keep myself occupied.
She looks down at her fingers as if she’s actually inspecting them, but I can tell she’s lost in a different thought.
“I’ll be just fine. I’ve dealt with worse.” I know that she’s not trying to gain pity or sympathy for what she’s been through. She’s just trying to dismiss my concerns; she feels unworthy of them. I’ve seen that same look of unworthiness on my own face and now it’s reflected back to me in hers.
She shifts uncomfortably next to me and asks, “Can we go downstairs. My bony ass can’t take this tub any longer?” And just like that, the woman I always knew my mom to be, funny, quick-witted, and down-to-Earth, is back. Until this moment, I even want to entertain the idea that maybe I’ve missed her.
When we exit the bathroom, Joe is waiting in the hallway. He stands beside Mom and wraps his arm around her waist to support her. Careful not to touch her bandaged hands too roughly, he inspects her fingers and asks, “What happened, Becca?” I’ve never heard anyone call her anything but Rebecca and hearing his loving endearment makes my mouth long to utter the sweetest word it knows – Maddy.
Mom places her other hand on top of his, and looks up into his warm brown eyes. “I’m fine, Joe. When you went into the bedroom, I was getting a glass of water, trying to calm myself before I went down to see Reid and it slipped out my hands. I was shaking so much that I did more damage than good when I tried to clean it up.”
He just nods his head and kisses her tenderly on the cheek. It’s funny how I never remember my own father treating her so sweetly.
As Joe helps her walk down the stairs, I fall in step behind them. I see how weak she is as she braces herself for the pain that accompanies each step.
When we return to the living room, Mom gets herself comfortable on the love seat and Joe offers to get us something to drink from the kitchen. Mom pats the spot on the couch next to her and I move towards her.
Joe returns with two glasses of water and places them on the small coffee table in front of us. Katie follows him out from the kitchen. “Dad and I are going to run a few errands, maybe finally get a tree up in this place. We’ll be back in a bit. You two should
catch up.” She walks over to Mom and kisses her on the top of her head and Mom reaches out for her hand.
“Thank you so much, Katie. Thank you for bringing him back to me. You guys have fun.” Mom smiles as Katie turns away from us. Joe winks and blows Mom a kiss from the other side of the room as they walk towards the door.
Mom slides one leg under the other and shifts, almost painfully, to face me. There are a million things I want to say to her, but I can see the gears turning in her head. I can see her trying to figure out what to say to me, so I give her the moment.
“Reid, baby, I…I owe you so many apologies.” She glances over at the mantle and a tear slides down her cheek. “I wish I could go back in time and change so much. No matter what I say right now, nothing is going to change the fact that I wasn’t there for you or your brother when you needed me most. I can never make up for the fact that I was a shitty mother when you boys needed me the most.”
I want to interrupt her and tell her that she wasn’t a bad mom, but the truth is, in those months following Shane’s suicide, and the years when she didn’t speak to me once, she was. She was a horrible mother, but now is not the time to cast blame. I bite my tongue and swallow my hateful words.
She steadies herself and clears her throat. “Letting Shane think I didn’t love him is the single biggest regret of my life. I love you boys with every fiber of my being. After Shane died, I never, ever should have let you walk away. I was weak and a coward and, at that time,” she takes a deep shuddering breath to try and steady her emotions, “it was easier for me to just hurt in private than to deal with it all.” She reaches to grab a tissue out of the box that’s sitting on the coffee table. I see her visibly brace herself for whatever she’s about to say. Squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, she faces me once again and looks me straight in the eye.
“Please believe me when I say that I take full responsibility for what I did…for what I didn’t do, but there are a lot of factors that contributed to that. Your father was not a kind man.” That revelation doesn’t shock me at all. Dad was never really there while we were growing up and even when he was there, it was to tell us that we were doing something wrong – not throwing the ball the right way, not running fast enough, not being manly enough. I’ve always thought that I acted like an ass all these years because of the effect that his words and actions had in my life.
Let Love Stay Page 7