“I mean, my husband wouldcertainly be appreciative if you did stay. He’s a big Cowboys fan. I hope youwon’t be offended when I say that I’m a Giants fan. That’s my team. But I’mmore into college football anyway.” She giggles. “Oh, God, and now I’m justrambling. I’m sorry. I have to say, this wasn’t what I was expecting today. I wasjust reading this series. The main character’s a warrior in another universeand she fights demons and falls for one, and I sort of felt like that just tookme off to another place, and I feel that way even more so now that I’m herewith you two.” She laughs again. Even louder this time. “I’m so sorry. I justdon’t know how to respond to this. Can I get either of you some sweet tea or something?”
“Sweet tea?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m from Alabama initially.Born and raised.” She looks as though she’s about to go on, her mouth hangingopen as she glances between us. She laughs again. “Oh, please. Sit down. Let’sgo into the living room. I just got this new couch that you should see.”
She leads us into the adjoiningroom and presents it to us. The couch and the recliner don’t match. By itself,it’s a nice couch, but it seems like she could use a little help from someonewith a little design experience.
Bryce and I sit beside each otheron the couch while she sits on the recliner across from us. She beams. Consideringhow happy she seems, I feel bad about shifting the conversation to such a sadsubject.
“I just…um…with my mother.”
Her expression turns serious in aninstant, and it assures me that this isn’t going to be a fun conversation foreither of us.
“Oh, how stupid of me,” she says.“I’m sorry. Of course. I knew that’s what you wanted to ask about, but I shouldhave…” She rises and heads off into another room. “Just give me one moment.”
Bryce’s expression is serious. Ican tell he’s nervous about whatever we’re about to discover and how it willaffect me. During the plane trip, he kept reminding me that whatever we findout doesn’t change anything about me.
I don’t feel like I’m asking formuch. Just some assurance that my mother, distracted as she was by her mentalillness, really did love me.
He sets his hand on mine andsqueezes gently, once again reminding me that I don’t have to be alone in anyof this.
Sandra returns with a thick photoalbum. She hands it to me and sits back down in the recliner.
“That’s from my days at Judy’scompound. Beth…I mean, Ariel, was a good friend of mine. She was from Alabamatoo, so we sort of hit it off right from the get-go. Good ole southern gals, wecalled ourselves.”
Pictures of my mother shortlyafter she left fill the pages. She doesn’t look like the tired, jaded womanthat I was so used to seeing. She wears a cheerful smile and beams in everyphoto. It’s like she couldn’t be happier without me. But knowing how she endedit, that can’t be true.
“I’d moved from Los Angeles a fewmonths before her. I went to LA to be a singer and a movie star. It was easy toget lost in dreams that just didn’t happen. Gradually, as I found that I wasjust a disappointment to my family, I guess I needed something to soothe thepain. For me, it was coke. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, Iwas homeless and jobless. Desperate for answers. A friend loaned me these CDsthat she said would cheer me up. That was the first time I ever heard JudyKline’s voice. She was like a sweet melody. So reassuring. Like the comfortingmother I never had. She told me all the things that I’d always wanted to hear.That I was beautiful and perfect and wonderful. Things my own mother neverwould have said to me. And her words convinced me that I didn’t need coke orpot to be happy.”
The wide-eyed expression onSandra’s face looks like how she might appear after eating a delicious dessert.I can see why this Judy Kline had such power over my mother. She was clearlyincredibly charismatic.
“I got my job back and saved upmoney so that I could go to Judy’s compound in Washington. They had all thesetents where they let us stay if we needed a place. And it gave me time to finda waiting job in the town about thirty minutes away. I met Ariel at one of theregular meditation sessions. She was new. This bright-eyed woman with so muchexcitement and eagerness to learn. We used to stay up working on exercises in notebookstogether. We were just both so excited. We thought we’d found the secret oflife. But despite how invested I was in the teachings, nothing in my lifeseemed to improve. Then when Ariel’s body was discovered by the lake, where she’dslit her wrists, I realized maybe things there weren’t all that they seemed tobe. I started looking around at everyone who was smiling—those whom at one timeI’d envied for how happy they seemed—and I realized it was all a con. I wasn’tany happier and neither were any of them. We were all just working so hard atpretending to be happy to convince each other that these teachings were reallyworking.”
It’s comforting to hear about whathappened to Mom but also hard knowing how much she suffered. And there’s stilla singular, burning question on my mind.
“Did she ever mention me? Sayanything about her son?”
Sandra’s gaze drifts. She smiles,but her smile turns into a frown. “My gut instinct tells me I should sayyes.For you. But I was pretty sure that she had never married. Or had any kids. Shenever led me to think otherwise, either. She told me she had been livingoutside Austin, Texas, on her own for a few years. Even when I saw her pictureon Henry Mason’s website, I was stunned because I was sure that if she’d hadany children, I would have known about them. It made me a little sad, honestly,that she wasn’t open with me about that. Shows how much you can really know aperson, I guess. Or how much you can think you know a person.”
My chest constricts as Sandraforces me to face the cruel reality that my mother may never have really givena shit about me. Or wanted nothing more than for me to be out of her life.
I came out here for a shimmer ofhope. I wouldn’t have needed much. Just hearing that she had talked about me orsaid once that she had missed me would have been enough, but knowing I didn’teven get that much consideration from her is devastating.
Fifty-Six
Bryce
The hum of the plane engine fills the otherwise quiet cabin.Most of the passengers on this red-eye flight are asleep.
Tad hasn’t spoken much since weleft Sandra’s. We stayed long enough for him to offer a friendly meet-and-greetwith her kids and husband. I figure he thought it was the least he could doconsidering how much she told him. I encouraged him to leave sooner, but heinsisted, and I wasn’t going to start a fight. Not after what he discoveredabout his mom.
He has a picture of her from JudyKline’s compound in his back pocket. Sandra had offered him the entire album,but Tad just took one picture of his mom—one she was smiling in. He said he’drarely seen her that happy. It seemed a sort of masochism that had drawn him tothat particular picture. There’s only one thing it could be used for. To beathimself over the head with. To remind himself that she could never look likethat around him.
I can’t imagine I’m doing much inthe way of soothing him right now, considering his own experience reminds me ofwhat assholes my parents and foster parents were. How they never really caredabout me. We were both rejected in such dramatic ways by the people we thought shouldhave loved us. Although, at least Tad has Kiernan. And even though Kiernan canbe a real asshole, since our last conversation, I believe he loves Tad far morethan he lets on. I just wish he was better at fucking expressing it.
“You’re amazing, Tad,” I say,hoping to keep him from dwelling on his mother’s opinion.
He shakes himself from hisdistracted state and turns to me. “What?” he asks, clearly thrown by my words.
