She doesn’t say a word. Just drops them on the coffee table and leaves like she can’t stand the air in here.
“I want to be your mom again,” my mother whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t put you first. That I let you down. I was just so fixed on trying to make our lives better that I forgot to live it with you.”
“I can try to forgive,” I whisper, placing my hand on her knee.
Her hand rests over mine. “Your forgiveness will be my salvation,”
My chest aches from saying it. “I can’t forget the past, but I am starting to heal.”
“I want my baby girl back in my life. I’ll do anything. I won’t let you down again. I promise. Not like your father did.”
I pull my hand away and frown.
“H-he didn’t let me down,” I whisper.
She blinks at me, tilting her head. “Do you speak to your father still?” she asks, carefully.
“Yes.”
“I bet he’d hate you seeing me,” she mutters.
My spine snaps straight. “No,” I say firmly. “He told me to see you.”
Her eyes go wide. Her mouth drops open. “Wait, you actually speak to him regularly? I thought…”
“I’m living with him,” I say, and watch the shock ripple through her. “We reconnected recently.”
Silence swallows the room.
I set my coffee down deliberately. I’m not here to talk about Dad. Not today. “So… how’s the new cleaning company?” I ask, changing the subject.
She blinks at me. Completely blank. The same empty expression she had when she stared at Charlotte. Then she smiles again, like she’s slipping a mask back on.
“Yes. Fine. I hate cleaning, but it makes okay money.” Her mouth tightens. “Not enough.”
I lift my coffee, forcing my hands to stay steady.
I really hope Dad wasn’t right.
“Are you still part of that cult or whatever? The one you ran away with years ago.” I ask, trying to sound light, like it doesn’t bother me.
I’d always pictured her dancing around fires, singing, laughing at the world.
Something flickers in her eyes. It’s something dark. Like my mom is gone in a heartbeat. Then she laughs, and goosebumps ripple over my skin. “It wasn’t a cult, Lily. ”
“Riiiiight.” I arch a brow. “Well, it sure as hell sounded like one when you told me about it. You tried to get me to join, remember?”
That was one of moms crazier fazes. She turned up at my house, telling me about her savior. At first, I thought she was drunk. But then I realized that she wasn’t. I was only eighteen at the time, and she’d been gone for almost a year. I point-blank told her no, and by the morning, she was gone.
The next time I saw her was a few years later at my ballet. I always invited her to them, but she never came. Except that final time.
She licks her lips slowly. “I remember.”
“Oh, good,” I mutter. “They didn’t wipe your memory then.”
Nothing. Not even a smile. “The cult ended when Sasha died,” she says, voice lower.
“Shame,” I mutter without thinking.
