Her words didn’t sink in at first. I stared at her, mouth hanging open, trying to make the words clear in my head. I needed a translator. I needed someone to explain to me what the fuck this bitch thought she was saying to me. Then the words, one by one clicked in understanding for me, and I felt the literal tear in my heart as it ripped in two and climbed up my throat. “All this time,” I said, my voice in utter anguish. “All this fucking time, I’ve been paying for things, and you just let me. You let me think that I was unwanted. That I was trash. That he didn’t want me. And you were saying what to him?”
“It ain’t had nothin’ to do with you,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders.
What? How was she able to say that? Think that?
“What did he think? What did he think I was doing? Where did he think I was?”
“It don’t matter none now,” she grumbled. “That bitch wouldn’t even let me go to his funeral. Cunt.”
“Do you realize how crazy you sound? You did the same thing she did,” I was screaming, hands fisted against my chest, holding them back from throttling her. “You kept his daughter from him. You kept me from him! From someone that wanted me. You never wanted me, so why? Why didn’t you just let me know him?” I said, collapsing onto the chair in tears. “You ruined me.”
“Nah, Livie. You were always so much stronger than me. You didn’t care if you were alone, baby girl.Itaught you that.Itaught you how to be alone and take care of yourself. Not needin’ anyone. If I didn’t you’da turned into me.” She crumpled up the letter and tossed it into my lap. “I wasn’t giving that bitch my kid, neither. She got him.”
My eyes blurred with tears, and I couldn’t wipe them away fast enough to see clearly. “You fucking, selfish bitch. Did you ever think about what I needed--what I wanted?”
She stared at me blankly.
I swiped my sleeve across the bottom of my nose. “Did you ever love me? Did you ever want me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Olivia Rhys, you’re the best thing that’s come out of my pathetic life. I didn’t want her to get her hands on you. I didn’t want his hands on you.”
Her words felt like a slap across the face. I continued to dry my eyes, desperately wanting a clear view of her face. I felt my heart accelerate. “What do you mean:You didn’t want his hands on me too?”
Her eyes fluttered over the hospital sheets, her irises doing their jerky alcohol-ruined movements.
“Mom? What do you mean?” I asked, cautiously. “Why did you say that?” I whispered, trying to control the trembling in my voice.
“I was only fifteen when he got me pregnant, Liv.” Her voice was just a whisper. “He was thirty and married. He promised me the world. He lied. He just liked little girls.”
I winced at her words, but I didn’t know if I could hold any weight to them. Was she lying to me again? Was she making up stories again? Would I ever find out the truth? I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my eyes. It didn’t matter, did it? I was who I was because of all of their choices. I needed to leave. But, God, if she was that young and went through something bad, she needed help.Real professional help.
“Liv, I really need something to drink, my throat, it’s parched,” she pleaded.
“There’s ice water right next to you—”
I was instantly wet.
It all happened so fast that I didn’t register her swinging her arm until the cup of icy water slammed against my chest and splashed up over my face. Cold water dripped from my hair, nose, chin, and down my neck.
“I just need a fucking drink,” she hissed, “and I don’t mean water.” Her wild empty eyes narrowed at me.
“Don’t you want to get better, Mom? We can fix things—”
“For what?” she demanded. “You can’t fix it. You can’t. Just get out of here and stay away from me.”
“But you’re the only family I’ve ever had,” I whispered.
“Pretend I’m dead, then,” she snapped, flailing her arms at the rest of the objects on the able next to her. They flew across the room and clattered and clanked over the floor. “Because if I don’t get a fucking drink soon that’s what I’ll be—dead. Dead! Dead!”
Until that moment, I never thought that a heart could be completely shattered and so irrevocably broken. I was utterly alone in this world; all there was around me was the absence of love.
And that was the way it always had been.
Except when I was with the Furys. The Furys always made me feel like family.
I hesitated on my way out the door, looking back at the sick woman sitting alone in a hospital bed. Over the years, I heard stories about my parents’ relationship from my mother. To me, they were all a bunch of over-romanticized stories. Could someone pine for another for years? Slowly deteriorate from the lack of him in their life? I had always doubted it, until now.
“Goodbye Audrey,” I whispered and turned to leave. I had a long journey home, with the promise of an empty apartment ahead of me, and absolute lack of guilt to look forward to. My mother had always made her own choices, and I was going to make mine. She’d be going away to the best place I could find for substance abuse and whatever therapy she needed to be able to live a better life. I had the bankroll for it now. I’d be in Vermont, knowing I did the best thing I could, and I’d live my life for myself—no guilt—no regrets.
