“I said I got it because I wanted to feel him. I know it seems dumb to get a tattoo of my ex-husband’s initial, but I didn’t care. I’ll never marry again and I won’t find a love like him.”
“I understand. Sometimes we do things that others won’t comprehend.”
“Yeah, my sister thought I was slow for getting it, but I wanted it.” She gazed at her tattooed finger, finding no regrets.
“How did your conversation end?”
“I apologized and told him how much I regretted hurting him. He then hung up in my face. That’s how we got off the phone. No clarity. No forgiveness. Just resentment.”
“He’s allowed to feel emotions just like you are.”
“I know.” She cleared the emotion from her throat. “I don't blame him.”
Cali swiftly wiped her face. Discussing Rio made her soul weep. She was determined to have a good day without falling deeper into the melancholy hole.
“I’m gonna go. I don't want to feel bad right now. I thank you for listening.”
“No problem, Calia. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
“I appreciate that. Goodbye.”
Cali hung up and grabbed her purse. When she stepped out of the booth, Irish sat on the bench, holding her iced latte in her hand.
“How did it go?” she asked right away.
“It was… cool. She was nice and I appreciated her feedback. I just can’t take anymore sad shit. Please tell me you have something fun planned for us?”
“I do. Let’s go furniture shopping. I’ll even treat you to a new bag.”
Cali grinned. “And this is why you’ll always be my best friend.”
Eighteen
Normally, when Irish went to see her mother, she always had to give herself a coaching session. She’d recite reminders on how to control her emotions. Typically, her body was a haven for anxiety. Heart palpitations, bubbling guts, and sweaty armpits always plagued her. Somehow on this day, Irish was cool. There were no thoughts of dread or any physical manifestations of anxiety. Stepping out the car, she ambled through the courtyard until she approached Daisy’s door. Ringing the doorbell, she waited patiently, noticing someone had come and cut the grass.
“It looks better,” she mumbled to herself.
Seconds later, the door opened and Daisy appeared. Half of her rotund body hid behind the door as she reached and opened the screen.
“You finally came.” She snorted.
Irish didn’t respond as she entered the home. Looking around, she noticed nothing had changed. The home was still a pigsty of papers, dirty dishes, and clothes.
“I’ve been in so much pain, Irish. Why is it so easy for you to ignore me?” She started her whining straightaway. “I had to call Ivory just to get some money for my bills.”
Irish went into her purse and pulled out an envelope. “Here is money for your expenses.”
Daisy humbly took the envelope and thumbed through the crisp bills. “Thank you, Irish. You don't know how much I appreciate this.”
“I’m glad you do because that’s the last thing you’ll ever get from me.”
Daisy’s hazel eyes bucked as the room grew eerily quiet.
“W-what do you mean?” she stammered, shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Daisy. You have used and abused me for over half my life.” Irish stepped closer to her. “You have never been the mother me and Ivory needed. In the recent months, I’ve had a lot of time to think about the nature of our relationship and guess what? I no longer want to be in contact with you.”
Irish grilled her mother, noticing water filling her eyes. After years of neglect, being groomed, and disposed, she wanted to cut the cord. She’d avoided it for years for fear of snatching her blessing out of her life, but she couldn’t do this dance with Daisy anymore.
