When I finally go downstairs, I find Tina sorting Halloween candy to leave outside in little bags on the stoop. She appears frazzled, and I chuckle at her.
“You’re not going to be home, but you have to make sure the neighborhood kids are taken care of,” I say teasingly to her.
Tina smiles sweetly. “I hate to miss it, but we haven’t seen Reed perform in years. I still don’t know what to wear,” she says, an obvious fluster in her voice.
“Reed won’t care,” I say. “He just wants you guys there.”
She looks back at the last few bags she’s putting together and holds up the full-size candy bars. “Color coordinate or random?” she asks.
“Random,” I reply.
Tina goes back to sorting. I make myself a cup of coffee and sip it in silence as she finishes, my phone out on the counter to scroll through social media for a few minutes.
When I’m on my second cup, thoughts of the other night at the old house, the words that had run through my mind as I walked around that space. I’d thought of so many things to say to Tina, and now, standing before her, I feel like a child again.
I shift in my seat and hug the mug to me, feeling myself tense.
I have to get this out.
She needs to know.
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say, and I don’t know why I’m so nervous.
“What is it?” Tina asks, still sorting.
“I just… I wanted to apologize,” I say as I feel my heart thud in my ears.
Tina stops fidgeting and finally looks at me. “For what?”
I clench my jaw, fighting back the emotion I don’t want to spill. “For the chaos you and your boys had to endure because of me. Through all of those years.” My voice is sticking, breaths coming in too short. “If my mother hadn’t been around, they would never have been exposed to—”
“Whoa.” Tina comes around the bar and grabs my hands. “No, Andi. You never have to apologize for that. That was never your fault.”
“No, I know— I mean, I know that now,” I force out. “It’s taken me a while to realize it, but I still wanted… I wanted you to know that I am sorry. For everything. And I want to thank you.”
Tina frowns, her eyes glistening. “For what?”
“For treating me like I was yours,” I manage as a tear slips down my cheek. “You could have told Dad to kick me out so that your boys never had to endure any part of my mother, but you didn’t. You helped, and I never… I never thanked you for that. And I’m so sorry you had to deal with it.”
I’m a puddle as I look into her eyes again, as I feel my jaw quake with the last sentence.
“And I’m sorry that I never… I’m sorry I never called you ‘mom,’” I say. “Because you deserved it. You deserved better than me calling you your name all these years. You were always my mom.”
Tears spill from Tina’s eyes, and she throws her arms around me.
She hugs me for a long few minutes, long enough that I spend my tears. When I nearly feel myself coming back to normal, when I feel her stop shaking, Tina pulls back and brings the candy bowl closer.
I choke on a laugh but take a Twix from the bowl anyway.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You never have to apologize to me for anything, Andi,” she says as she wipes her face. “What brought this on? Is it just being back here? Is that why you haven’t been home?”
I wipe my face harshly and take a deep breath. “I drove by the old house the other day,” I answer. “It brought back a few things I hadn’t dealt with.”
Tina sinks into the chair beside me. “Gosh, I haven’t been over there since we sold it,” she says. “Randall has. He occasionally takes Mrs. Lawry dinners when he’s helping out the food bank. But I…” She sighs heavily. “I think I tried to put it behind me as much as you have,” she adds as she takes my hand again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was why you weren’t coming home.”
“It’s not the only reason,” I say.
