Her eyes twinkle. “So he’s good, then? I mean, I would assume so…a man with so much charisma, so much power. How did the two of you meet, honey? You haven’t yet told me a single thing about Jeremy.”
“It’s a long story,” I say, and launch into the same practiced lie Jeremy and I invented for Thalia and Fey.
Chapter Fifteen
Hours pass. By the time we’re done talking, the sun is starting to rise.
I’m exhausted. Seeing my mother and reconnecting with her on a personal level is nothing I could have believed possible a few months ago. But then again, so many things have happened to me since then that my entire worldview is now different.
I used to think that there were bad people and there were good people in the world. That there was no such thing as bad people doing good things, or good people doing bad things. The things you did defined you as a person, and so your actions were the true measure of your worth.
Admittedly, it was a very narrow view of the world. But it helped me immerse myself in academics for long enough to end up where I wanted to be. And then Jeremy came storming in…and all that changed.
Despite all the bad he’s done to me, I can no longer deny the good. And I don’t have to. I’m not afraid of it anymore.
Jeremy opened my eyes to the true nature of the world. What is that nature? It’s indefinable. It’s ever-changing, constantly in flux, and never, ever what you expect. To try to put your finger on it would be like trying to stop a river with nothing more than a handful of twigs.
It can’t be done.
But that’s not the point. The point isn’t to try to understand and define something so much greater than yourself. The point is to acknowledge your place in the world, to realize how little you can ever truly know, and to make peace with that understanding.
People will surprise you. Events and circumstances will surprise you. The only way to ready yourself for it is to become infinitely mutable. To forge ahead on the untrodden path. To trust in your ability to lose yourself and to accept it, once you do veer off-course.
Because stability, truth, and expectations? They’re not lies, exactly, but they will never be the anchors you want them to be.
Jeremy showed me that. He showed me that forgiveness is possible. My mother and I are but the latest examples. It would have seemed inconceivable to me that I would be lying down, about to fall asleep, under the same roof as her, after having made peace… if you would have suggested it to me while I was still at Yale.
But here I am, about to do just that. She gave me her bed, despite all my protests. But they were half-hearted, at best, given how tired I was when it finally came time to call it a night. Tomorrow—or whatever day it’ll be when I wake up—I’m going back to Jeremy. I’m going back to Jeremy, with full control and confidence in my mind. And there, I will demand answers from him: about Hugh, about the video, about his driver. We’ll see what face he shows me then.
Chapter Sixteen
When I wake up, mom’s gone. I find a note from her in the kitchen:
Meatloaf’s in the fridge.
I smile. It’s been a long time since she’s cared enough to feed me at home.
I look through a window. It’s dark outside. A freshly fallen, white, fluffy snow covers everything. It makes me think of the holidays, even though they’re past. For a few nostalgic moments, I reminisce about the Christmases of my childhood.
Those are memories I haven’t recalled in a long time. Good memories, of my mother and me. No matter how poor we were, no matter how much she struggled just to put food on the table, I never felt it. Not as a child. Every Christmas, she would delight me with boxes of chocolate that I devoured and, sometimes, other little trinkets to let me know she cared.
They weren’t expensive. They didn’t have to be. For a child, every gift on Christmas feels like a little miracle. Mom never deprived me of that.
Not until alcohol took over her life, at least.
But we’ve moved past that now. She’s sober, which is a revelation I would have never believed. I witnessed it when she poured the Johnny Walker down the drain. Liquor still has its pull on her. I saw the struggle play out before me. But she was been able to resist. That takes strength. Real strength, of the type I didn’t know Renee possessed.
I turn away from the window and look over her small dwelling. I live in a huge mansion, while she lives in…this?
Could I give her some money? Would she take it? Or would it—
I stop short, and wonder at the direction my thoughts have turned in disbelief. I’ve been in my position at Stonehart Industries for less than two weeks. I’ve been the recipient of a real income for less than two weeks. Not that I’ve even checked the bank accounts that Jeremy opened for me after I signed the employment offer. I haven’t had time. Still, it’s astounding to think that I have enough money to consider offering a portion to my mother.
But do I really want to get her involved in anything to do with Jeremy Stonehart? No. Not yet, at least. It’s still too early to consider doing that. Hell, I don’t even know where I stand with him. Or how on earth I’m going to get to California without having to swallow my pride and tell him I’ve been robbed.
That is a conversation I want to put off for as long as possible. I shudder to think of the damage it’ll do to his impression of me.
But I cannot allow myself to be childish. My need to get back to California overpowers everything else. The need to get revenge, to see Jeremy pay for the things that he’s done to me hasn’t been forgotten.
Yet the problem is: I can feel that desire slipping away. I rely on Jeremy for pretty much everything in my life. If I, somehow, bring him down, what will I have left?
No! I shake my head wildly to dispel the notion. I’m a survivor. Always have been, always will be. I’ll find my way. Didn’t I just prove that with my mother? I just need to trust in myself…to believe in my own abilities…enough to overcome whatever weakness I’ve allowed into my life since that watershed phone call from Fey. Granted, I lost some confidence in myself. But I think, finally, that it’s coming back.
I look around once more. Today is already lost. Judging by the clock, I got nearly fourteen hours of sleep. Tomorrow, then, I’ll call Jeremy and ask for a return flight. It keeps this trip on its original, intended schedule, that way. And it wouldn’t feel right to simply leave mom without saying good-bye.
I might not be ready to give her money. But I sure as hell can surprise her with something I used to do all the time.
I can tidy up her place.
***
By the time I’m done, six hours have flown by.
I wipe the sweat away and look around in satisfaction. When mom comes home, she won’t recognize the place.
It’s spotless. Everything is in order, from the living room to the bathroom to the tiny kitchen. I dusted and vacuumed and washed the floors. I worked out the old stains in the carpet, cleaned the grime off the window screens, and washed the counters. I folded her clothes, stacked them in neat piles, and organized her closet. I scrubbed the mold out of the tub and tried to disinfect the bathroom counter with baking soda and vinegar.
It felt good to clean. To lose myself in mindless busy work. Maybe that’s because it diverted my attention from more pressing matters, or because I’ve simply been deprived of the opportunity for so long. With Rose taking care of all domestic needs at the mansion, I’ve never been given the chance.
The only thing left is to take out the trash. I pull the overflowing bin out from under the counter, tie the bag up, and pull it loose. Something hidden behind it catches my eye.
I kneel down. Wedged behind the trash bin in a dark little inconspicuous corner is an old cardboard chocolate box, about the size of a small notebook. There’s an elastic band around it that tells me it’s not something that just missed the can. It’s something that mom hid.
I take it out. There’s a layer of dust on top. I blow the dust off, then shake the box gently, trying to judge the c
ontents. Whatever is inside is not very heavy. Photographs, maybe?
I bite my lip. I know I probably shouldn’t…but curiosity gets the better of me. I slide the elastic off, slowly, and lift the lid.
What I find there surpasses all my expectations.
The box is filled with…all of my school stuff. Report cards I’d gotten in high school. Copies of the newsletters announcing the honor roll students. Medals and ribbons I’d been awarded at science fairs, math competitions. Assignments and tests from my sophomore, junior and senior years with proud markings of 100%, 98%, A+, and so on.
At the very bottom is a single photograph. The colors are washed out, and the edges are dog-eared. There are three people there, two of whom I recognize right away.
My mom. Grinning like a lunatic from the backseat of a car. My dad—Paul—with his full lumberjack beard, one arm around Renee’s shoulders, his attention all on the little bundle in her hands.
That’s me. Only the top of my head is visible, peeking out from under an excessively bundled, tiny body.
A tear falls from my eye. It lands right in the middle of the photograph. I hurry to wipe it away with my thumb, not wanting to ruin something this precious.
I cement the photograph in my mind and lower it, gently, to the bottom of the box. Seeing that photograph means so much to me. It’s a snapshot of the life that never was.
My parents both look so young, so… happy. Paul… no! I can’t think of him as Paul—not anymore. Not after seeing that picture. My father…I can just feel the pride radiating from him, frozen in that moment in time. Maybe I’m being stupid, or sentimental, or whatever, but I truly believe that I can see the love my parents had for each other. From the way my dad holds my mom, to the completely unburdened, genuine, and full-of-life smile that lights her face, and yes, even to the way he looks at me, it all…it all cements things, in my mind.
Here is the family I could have had. Here is the life that was taken away from me. But, it’s not even about me. I’ve managed. I’ve survived.
No, this picture is a representation of the life that was taken away from my parents. Of the one they should have lived. Of the one that could have been so much better, for both of them.
It fills my heart with sadness, how two people who were so clearly in love with one another could not make things work. There’s no third party to place the blame on. I can’t say it was Jeremy’s fault, which has been the natural conclusion for almost everything that has gone wrong in my life recently.
No, this picture was taken before my family was even on Jeremy’s radar. Imagine. If my dad had never left, if he’d never found his way to California…
But such thoughts are foolish. I can’t long for a life I never had. All I can do is focus on the present. I’ve repaired things with my mom—maybe not completely, but much more than I could have hoped for after a single day together. Next, I have to turn the focus on my dad.
The man I met in the mental institution is a far cry from the person I see in the photograph. I don’t know how much of that is Jeremy’s fault. But I swear I will get to the bottom of it. Seeing the photograph really made it sink in: Paul is my father. Right now—though perhaps not permanently—Paul’s mind is broken.
At least, I can hold out hope that it’s not permanent. I remember the way he looked at me with utter lucidity when he retold the story of our past. He was not crazy then. He was not insane then.
But that moment came only after Jeremy gave his permission. And Paul knows Jeremy as someone else. A doctor. Why?
I hear the doorknob rattle behind me and curse. I try to stuff all the high school memorabilia back into the chocolate box, but the door opens before I can. A draft of cold air hits my neck.
“Lilly?” my mom calls out, walking in and closing the door. “Wow, look at this place. Did you do all that while I was gone? You shouldn’t have—” Her eyes find me. She freezes. “What are you doing down there?”
Her voice is cold.
Suddenly, I feel as guilty as a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, standing up and trying to hide the box by scooting it back with my foot. “Just taking out the trash, mom. That’s all.” I try to change the subject. “You like what I did?”
“Yes, it’s all very nice,” she says, coming closer. She cranes her neck to one side to try to look around me. I step that way to block her view.
“I got us some groceries on the way back,” she continues, still trying to see what it is I’m obviously hiding. It’s just a charade. Both of us clearly know what the item is. The pretense of normal conversation is merely a delay tactic. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be staying, so I got some things that used to be your favorites: Lucky Charms, blueberry muffins—say what’s that by your foot?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. When she crosses the space between us, I change my tune. “Mom, I wasn’t trying to pry, I swear—”
She bends down and picks up the box. “You found it,” she says softly.
I give a guilty nod.
“And you looked inside?”
Again, I nod.
“Oh, Lilly,” she sighs. “I’m sorry. I had no right—”
“Wait. What?” I stop her short. “What are you talking about? Why are you apologizing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asks. “This little box…is full of your stuff. Things you intended to throw out, and probably never wanted me to see.”
“I didn’t…Huh?”
“Well, you never shared them with me. But I couldn’t just have you throw away your accomplishments like that. You saw what’s inside. Things I found in the binders you discarded, in the recycling.” She sags onto an empty chair. “I don’t know what you must think of me. It was stupid, Lilly. But I wanted to share in a little bit of your success—even if you didn’t want me to.”
“Mom...” I say. I’m speechless. I walk over and sit beside her. She turns her head to me.
“The only reason I didn’t share them with you was because I never thought that you cared.”
“I know,” she says. She dabs a palm at her eyes. “Stupid contacts,” she mutters. “They always make my eyes water in the cold.”
I smile and put my hand on her arm. “But you did care,” I say.
“Always,” mom replies. “I never stopped caring about you, Lilly. I just lost my way of showing it.” She gives a weak smile. “So I did it in secret, hidden from you.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I know. But I did. And I’m sorry.”
“So the whole time I thought you were absent—all the years in high school I assumed you didn’t care—you were keeping track of what I did?”
“Yes, of course,” she says. “And I couldn’t have been prouder.”
“And now I know,” I say. I hug her. “Thank you, mom.”
“No, Lilly. Thank you. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for forgiving me. I know I’ve been a damn shitty parent. But I’m ready to change that, now…” She trails off. And then finishes in a small voice, “…if you’ll let me?”
“Yes,” I nod. “I will.”
We hug again.
“Hey,” I say. “I found something else in that box. A photograph…?”
“Really?” She looks at me. I expect recognition to show on her face, but it remains blank. “What of?”
“You and dad,” I say. “And me.”
She frowns, lifts up the lid, and rifles through the sheets. When she finds the picture, she takes it out, and mumbles, “Oh, wow. I forgot I even had this in here.”
“Really?” I ask.
Mom nods. “Really, really.” She gives a quick laugh. “Look at us all. So full of life.” She shakes her head. “If only…”
“Do you have more?” I ask. “Photographs of you and dad?”
“If I did, I would have shown you last night. No, Lilly, the second time we broke up, I knew it was for good. There’d be no recovery. I had to purge him from
my mind. All the photographs I had I either burned, or threw out.”
“That’s…understandable,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment.
“No, it’s not. It’s another in the long list of screw ups I’ve made in my life.” She looks sad for a moment, but then she shrugs. “Oh well. Conner tells me to live in the present, not get hung up on the past.”
“Conner?” I ask. “Who’s Conner?”
Mom gives a wry smile. “My current boyfriend. Who do you think?”
I laugh. “I don’t know. I guess that’s what I should have assumed.”
“You don’t mind meeting him, do you? I kind of let it slip that you showed up here last night. He was very eager to introduce himself.”
I squirm in my seat. After all my past experiences with mom’s boyfriends, I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect.
But, I force a smile. This is all about reconnecting, right? “Sure,” I say, through gritted teeth.
“Oh, great,” mom exhales. She looks back over her shoulder and yells, “Conner? You can come in now, babe!”
“What, now?” I hiss. “He’s here?”
She pats my arm with affection. “He followed me home. Isn’t that cute? Sometimes I call him my big puppy dog.”
The door opens. In walks the last man I expected to see.
Chapter Seventeen
I bolt upright. “You!” I screech.
He takes a surprised step back. ‘Me?” Going from the dark to the light, his eyes haven’t had a chance to adjust yet. Or maybe he’s just playing the fool. “Baby-doll, this is your daughter?”
“Lilly, what’s gotten into you?” Renee hisses. She tugs at my arm. “Sit down!”
“No!” I say, ripping away from her. “Mom, this is the asshole who robbed me!”
“Oh, shit,” Conner mutters. He’s closed the door and come inside.
Renee stands up, holding me back from trying to attack Conner. I’m ready to claw his eyes out.
“Lilly, calm down!” she stresses. “There’s got to be some mistake.”
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 68