by Allen, Dylan
My phone buzzes with a text from Phil. It’s my mother’s number.
I force my worry about Carter to the side and collect my thoughts. And then, I call my mother.
You Love Her. But You Don’t.
BETH
“We’re here, baby.” Carter nuzzles the side of my head. Reluctantly, I open my eyes.
“Already?” I ask, groggy from the fitful sleep that plagued me the whole journey.
I closed my eyes as soon as the train departed Paris - forgoing the chance to watch the scenery go by. I wasn’t looking forward to the journey and had a knot of dread in my gut that swelled with foreboding that’s plagued me since I spoke to my mother. I need answers to the questions that have plagued me since our DNA test results came back. Answers only she can give me. I’m prepared for whatever truth she has to say. But my feelings about her are confusing and volatile.
We’re pulling into the station and I eye the open air platform.
“Hey, are you okay?” Carter prods and squeezes my hand. He’s been holding it the whole way and I lace my fingers tighter into his and nod without looking at him.
He didn’t blink when I asked if we could delay our return to New York to see her. In fact, it shook him out of the funk he’d been in since he found out about the property.
We’re meeting at a hotel rather than her home. We’re only here for one night. I asked for the meeting to be there rather than her house because it was convenient and she agreed.
“You know we don’t have to do this. We can get off and take the next train back to Paris.”
I shake my head, trying to clear it of the anxiety that’s trapping my thoughts in a viscous web and turn to him, a smile that’s more optimistic than I feel plastered on my face.
“No, get it over with and go home, okay?” I glance at my watch and gasp.
“Shoot, she’ll be at the hotel in an hour. I want to shower and freshen up first,” I say and he nods, his expression still worried, but he returns my smile and stands up to pull the small carryon we’re sharing from above our heads.
The hotel is a quick ride to the train station and I find myself momentarily sidetracked by the majestic view of the Swiss Alps and the beautiful, clean, modern city as we whiz through traffic.
We step into a lobby full of dripping chandeliers, magnificent flowers arrangements, gleaming marble floors, duck egg blue pillars lavishly trimmed in gold gilt. We pass the hotel restaurant where I’ll be meeting my mother and my stomach clenches.
By the time we’ve made it our room, the beautiful surroundings have receded to a fuzzy background for my thoughts about our impending reunion.
Will we hug, or shake hands? Is she coming alone or bringing her husband? What if she doesn’t come at all.
Carter seems to not have a care in the world. He listens intently as the concierge shows us around our suite, laughing or expressing his awe as the young woman regales us with the history of the hotel. The room is beautiful, even more opulent than our room in Paris. I can’t enjoy any of it. In fact, I think I’m going to be sick.
“I’m going to shower,” I tell them before I walk into the bathroom. I shut the door, sit on the toilet, and try not to hyperventilate.
The quick, perfunctory knock is the only warning I have before Carter walks in.
“I’m okay,” I say, staring at the white knuckles of my linked hands.
“Hey, why are you hiding from me?” He drops to his haunches his hands gripping mine and pulling them apart. He holds them in his, like he’s trying to warm them. I stare at them until they blur from my tears. A hot trail of them runs down my cheeks and drops onto his hand.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I say gulping air and trying to make my throat work so I can swallow the lump in it.
“Look at me, baby,” he says in a firm voice. I raise my head and look into his loving eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. She’s your mother. But, she’s not. You love her. But, you don’t. She’s a huge piece of the puzzle that you’re trying to solve. But you’re afraid to see what the entire thing looks like. If you weren’t messed up by it, I’d be worried. This is normal. Just remember that you know who are you. Whatever she has to say, won’t change a single thing about you.”
Hearing him articulate my fears and hopes so co clearly is just what I needed. A small knot of my anxiety loosens. I’m not doing this alone. This man, who loves me, is here.
I look into his eyes, the green anchors of my happiness and remind myself that this is my future. My nerves don’t disappear, but they ease and I lean against him, accepting the strength he’s offering.
“Okay,” I say, and this time I feel it.
He’s right. No matter what she says, what’s between us won’t change. He kisses me and I feel the solemnity of our covenant in the reverent caress.
I draw from his strength and give him mine. This love is like a torch in the dark. It didn’t save me, but it gave me the light I needed to find my own way. I’ll never be sightless again.
When I’m finally ready to head down, doubt flares one more time and I grab Carter’s hand and give myself a final pep talk.
“I want to know the truth and I want to find out on my own terms. And not wait for someone else to pull my chain or use it against. All this has taught me that lies and secrets never stay hidden. So, this is good, right?”
His eyes flicker with something like fear, but it’s so quick that I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it.
Before I can ask, his lips curve into a reassuring smile. “It’s very good, and you’re ready.”
New Beginning
BETH
I spot my mother before she sees me. She’s sitting in front of one of the large windows that line the iconic Le Bar de Bergues, gazing out at the amazing view.
From here, she looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world. As I get closer I can see that her hair isn’t pulled back, but cut short like mine used to be. Otherwise, she hasn’t changed at all. She’s the same stunning beauty as she’s always been.
I approach our table and clear my throat
“J’attend ma fille, merci,” she says without looking away from the window. I don’t know what that means, but I know she doesn’t realize it’s me she’s talking to.
“Mother?”
She lets out a startled gasp and turns to look at me. Her hand is at her throat, her eyes are wide with surprise. Her expression goes from surprise to unadulterated joy. She stands, her smile growing as she circles the table, her arms outstretched. She hugs me without saying a word.
Surprise freezes me for a second and then, I return her hug. It’s been at least ten years since we embraced. I close my eyes and try to recall if this was how she used to smell. But, I can’t and even though it’s not uncomfortable, it’s not intimate either. It’s like hugging an acquaintance.
“Oh, chéri,” she breathes, squeezing harder for just a moment before she lets me go and stands back. She scans me from head to toe. “You look so beautiful, darling. I’m so happy to see you,” she says and her eyes mist a little.
I’m not sure what to make of the warmth in her greeting. Our phone call was brief. She’d only said, “It will be good to see you,” before she hung up.
I’m not sure how I feel about seeing her but it feels weird to say nothing, so I say the only thing that I’m certain of. “You look beautiful, too. Thank you for coming to meet me.”
We settles in our chairs, and she signals for our server before she looks at me again.
“Is your home close by?” I speak first.
She nods, her eyes warming as if just the thought of home makes her happy.
“Yes, it is. We’re in a lovely suburb of Genève called Carouage. It’s fifteen minutes away by car. Let’s get dessert, The tiramisu here is really worth the calories.”
The server approaches and she orders. I watch her and listen, my heart lodges in my throat.
Her voice is beautiful, just as
it had been when I was a little girl - her French accent is more pronounced now, that lilting, slightly husky quality was, at one point, the only thing that could soothe me.
If I close my eyes, I could pretend I was a little girl again, listening to her reading French children’s stories to me, and stroking my hair while I drifted off to sleep.
When the server leaves, she turns back to look at me and I smile blandly, pushing away that little moment and the nostalgia it conjured.
“You were in France? Did you come to Genève alone?” she asks.
I shake my head. “My…man is upstairs,” I don’t know why calling Carter my boyfriend feels like such an understatement.
She smiles, deeply enough that twin dimples appear in her cheeks. “Of course, I saw the very romantic moment you shared with your very handsome musician. My heart could not have been more full. Love like that is the most life sustaining gift you will ever receive. How did you meet him?” she asks.
“He’s the son of Andrew Wolfe and Susan Kendicott. He and Phil are brothers,” I say, getting straight to the point.
Her smile disappears and the blood drains from her face. Her eyes widen with shock and presses a trembling hand to her lips
“What? How?…” she asks in a gasp that trails off as the desert she ordered arrives.
I wait for our server to walk away before I answer.
“You were married to him when he took Phil from Susan. You were married when Susan got pregnant again. So, you can’t say you didn’t know. I’m assuming your surprise is that I know?”
She leans away watching me, not responding, but the calculation that creeps into her eyes tells me everything I need to know.
The stab of disappointment in my chest catches me off guard. I didn’t realize, until now, that I’d hoped she would be clueless. That she wouldn’t have left her daughter with a man she knew was capable of the kind of cruelty he’d shown Susan.
“If he’s Susan’s son as you say…that would mean he’s your brother,” she whispers in horror.
My patience runs out. “Mother, cut the shit.”
She blinks, and if I didn’t know better, I’d believe the confusion that furrows her delicate brows.
I scoff.
“It would mean that, but our DNA says different. We were tested and we don’t have a single marker in common. That is very rare. So no, mother we’re not related at all. He and Phil are full siblings, though,” I say casually, and pick up my fork to take a bite of the dessert while I watch her squirm.
She sits back her chair. Her hands fall into her lap and the last traces of calm she’s been wearing completely gone. She shakes her head, her expression stunned, her face grows paler as she stares unseeingly past me.
“Mother,” I snap, and slam my hand down onto the table and she flinches and bring her stark eyes back into the focus.
“I don’t know what to say,” she breathes.
“Why don’t you tell me the truth? Who is my father? And why did you leave me with him?”
Her swallow is audible and her eyes fill with tears.
“He wouldn’t let me take you. I begged him He told me the only way I could have you in my life was to stay. I couldn’t do that. He was always so angry… and when he would take it out on me. On my body, in places were only I could feel the pain. I would bleed for days. I was afraid one day, he’d kill me. ”
My gut twists and my throat tighten at the terror and shame in her expression.
“Oh, God,” the words are a choked sob.
“I had nowhere to turn. No one to turn to. In that town - he was the law. Still is. There’s no hope for anyone who wants a life contrary to his wishes…If I stayed, I would have died But Elisabeth, I wasn’t… didn’t know, not for sure until just now, that you weren’t his.”
“How? How is that possible? And who is my father.”
“Michael … Elisabeth. It must be…he’s your father.”
“Michael? Your husband? You did have an affair?” I ask, remembering my father’s accusations about her when she left.
She shakes her head vehemently.
“No. Michael and I - when I was married, we were together just once. When I left, I was on my own. Michael found me again. When Drew found out about us, all hell broke loose. Those charges came out of nowhere and it was either stay and fight them, or leave. He has so much of law enforcement in his pocket So, we left. We came to the one place where we could live without fear of being pulled back to the United States. But your fa— Drew, all of that was his doing.”
My mind is reeling. I take a deep breath to center myself and force my mind back to the questions that still needed answers.
“So you knew about Phil.”
She nods, her eyes pained. “We were still in France, newlyweds. He said he had an emergency in Winsome. He was gone for less than a week …with the little boy. He told me he’d had an affair with a girl that was too young…and she had given him the baby to keep. I accepted Phil. It wasn’t his fault and I was already pregnant with James. When we moved back to Winsome, no one had a clue that he wasn’t ours. I loved him like he was. But it was the end of my love for your father. What happened with Susan wasn’t just a one off.”
“You mean he had other children?” I ask in horror.
“No, I mean, at least I don’t think so, but he had affairs. He was more careful about where he spilled his seed from then on. But she…Susan, she was different. Her husband came to work at Wolfe and soon, he was sleeping with her again. When Susan disappeared and her husband was found dead in their house, Drew changed…he had been an unfaithful spouse before, but he now he was cruel and distant. His visits weren’t just about sex. He started beating me. He never left visible bruises, but over the course of a year, it escalated and one night he lost control. I was bruised, broken in places that wouldn’t heal on their own. And, I couldn’t hide it with make-up, so he sent me to his mother’s. She was still in Austin then, and he told everyone I as there for some R &R.” Her lips twist bitterly.
“That’s where I ran into Michael. He used to work at Wolfe in Winsome and had moved on to work for the Foundation in Austin. I’d always known that he loved me. But, I’d held him at arm’s length because to even think of having an affair was courting disaster. One night…he came to the house and Agnes wasn’t there…I was struggling badly. He was kind, and patient. And I let him comfort me, It was just one night, but it was the most beautiful night of my life. And that’s when we made you.”
She gives me a tremulous smile and places a hand on the table palm up. I only hesitate for a moment before I put mine on top.
“So, how didn’t you know?”
“When I got back to Winsome, Susan had returned, and your father came unglued in the months between her surrender and her sudden change of heart about her plea. He came to me every night for weeks. I found out I was pregnant a month after she pled guilty. I was sure you were his. He became obsessed with the idea of another child. I decided that if a child could be conceived in the midst of all of that…ugliness, that maybe it was God’s way of telling me to try harder. I was a shell of a person, convinced I didn’t deserve anything good. And I was determined to hold on to the one beautiful thing I had, besides the boys - I tried to focus on our family and my marriage.”
Her eyes become cold, and hard and her mouth puckers as if she’s tasting something bitter.
“Phil and James were so very much their father’s children…but you were mine. I thought you were perfect. He left me alone for the most part and I got to spend my time making our home a happy one for you. For a while, things were fine.
When his father and brother died, he became the head of the company we moved into that house… And everything changed. The darkness grew and he made my life miserable. I was so afraid I would die without knowing what it meant to have control over my body. Or my mind. Or my soul. I had to leave. I was dying. I never dreamed that I would leave my own children. But, I was no good to any of you. I wanted
to live. I know it’s hard to understand, when you’ve never been completely at someone’s mercy.”
She says that and I realize she has no clue what my life has been since James’ death.
“I understand completely, Maman.” I call her by the name I used to before she left. Her eyes fill with tears and she covers her mouth to stifle her sob.
“Oh my darling, he made you suffer.” She says it, but there’s a thread of hope in her voice and in her eyes that praying I’ll deny it.
I nod, my own sob clawing its way up my throat as I replay the months I spent locked in that house horrors.
“I wish he was dead. He is not a man who deserves to draw breath.” She radiates with anger, and I think about my own act of selfishness in search of emancipation.
“I left Cameron with him,” I admit, feeling sick when I remember my vehemence about never leaving my own child. But I left her.
She covers my hand with hers and shakes her head vigorously.
“Her mother is not weak like yours. I think in her, Drew has met his match.”
“I don’t think so. He’s terrible to her and he cheats on her. And she takes it.”
“You cannot save anyone until you’re able to save yourself. I am lucky. The man I’m with, he loves me. But Andrew made coming back for you impossible.”
I study her, seeing her clearly for the first time ever.
She’s not my mother in anything more than name. But I can see how she might have been if my father hadn’t driven her away. I understand the need to draw breath that’s not tainted by someone else’s desires. I’m gripped with a fierce conviction, give it voice before I lose my nerve.
“We have a lot of time to make up for, but I don’t want to spend another minute of it as strangers.”
“Oh, God, Elisabeth. Do you mean it?” She asks, tears falling down her face.
“Yes. And if Michael is willing. I’d like to meet him, too.”