“Why did you walk out on us?We needed you.Ev cried himself to sleep for a month.”
“What?He never said.”
“None of us have said.You didn’t give us a chance.You didn’t want to know.”
“So you reserved this lovely terrace table with a view of the southern waters to tell me what?I’m a terrible mother?Is this advice from your therapist?”
“I don’t have a therapist.”Unless he considered the past month with Scottie O’Shay therapy.“I invited you here to tell you I’ve missed you, Mum.Very much.You may have walked away from us without a backward glance, but we vigilantly looked forward to your return.”
She sighed, glancing down at her lap, a tense line along her lean jaw.“Did you?Really?I thought I could go.Leave you in your father’s, and Cross family’s, safe care.”
“Yes, and we were well loved, but he’s not you.The family is not you.We only have one mother,” Michael said.“Remember when I rode my bicycle to Pratt Printing?I was twelve, I think.”
“How could I forget?You frightened the wits out of me.Fifteen miles through neighborhoods and one very dangerous stretch of busy motorway?I shudder now to think what might have happened to you.”
“Yet you picked a row with Dad over it.To me you were angry that I frightened you.That I bothered you at work.We hardly saw you, Mum.That’s why I came round.”
“I was angry, but you never, ever bothered me.”
“How was I to know?You never attended football matches even when Dad insisted I leave you messages of dates and time.The irony being that your flat looked down on the Cross PF Youth League pitch.Even now.Evan and Finn are there every week.”
“I never put myself up for Mum of the Year.My career…the family business…fell on me.I was a woman in a man’s world.I had to work twice as hard.”She scowled at Michael’s expression.“Why the look?You know it’s true.”
“Mum, you were the boss’s daughter.And I’m sorry, but the 1990s were not the dark ages for women’s advancement.Plenty of fathers left work to watch their sons on the pitch.Dad included.”
Mom chucked her napkin down on the table and scooted away, then rose and walked toward the window, arms folded tight around her torso.“All right, I could’ve come, but it was too painful.I knew what I’d done and decided to stick to it.Believe me, I had no advantage of being the boss’s daughter.I had to prove myself all the more.”
“Painful?Mum, did you ever consider the pain two little boys, without mature emotions, might have felt?”
“Of course I did.But Antone, your father, gave me no choice to…” She spoke to the glass, to the city scene beyond the window.“Knowing you could never come home with me… That we’d never celebrate a victory… It was just easier to stay away.”
“What do you mean he gave you no choice?Dad invited you to dinners and outings, to school functions, to parties.You never came.We saw you on holidays and birthdays.Maybe.”
The waiter came round, and Mum returned to her seat.But Michael only stared at his plate, his belly full of the confession clinging to him since that day at the chapel.Since Emmanuel’s touch.He had to say it.Get it out.
“Any other complaints?”Mum said, stabbing her salad, her fork tinging against the white china bowl.“Care to list more of my shortcomings?How am I doing?Am I taking it like a woman?”
“All right, here it is,” Michael said.“I hated you because nothing mattered but Pratt Printing.You stopped being our mother.Purnell pushed me to forgive you, but in my mind, you didn’t deserve it.”
The waiter paused on the edge of the terrace with a fresh basket of bread.When he caught Michael’s eye, he turned away.
“I should get back to the office.”Mum shoved her bowl forward but didn’t move.“I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Mum.”Michael scooted his chair closer to hers.“I’m sorry for hating you.”There.He said it and instantly felt a release.“Please forgive me.Hating you is why I never considered working for Pratt.Plus, honestly, Mum, it’s too corporate office and quarterly reports for me.”
“I’ve always known you were a Cross man through and through.I’ve always known you hated me but—”
“You were the only topic Purnell and I ever had a row over.”
Mum deftly caught the solo tear that dripped from her chin.“I’m the one who’s sorry.”She raised her gaze to Michael, her blue eyes resting in brimming pools.“I was so mad at your father because he was right.I couldn’t be your mumandtake over Pratt.It wasn’t in me to be divided.Some women can have a career and be a great a mum, but I was not one of them.In my early days, I was never a candidate to take over.I was sure Cousin It would rise from his drunken drool and charm Grandfather, Dad, and the board to give him the helm.”The fire in her voice dried her tears.“I couldn’t bear to see it.Then, one day, Dad came to my office and said, ‘How’d you like to be Chief Executive?’I thought he was having me on, but the board voted me in, and I was so humbled and thrilled—” She reached for her wine goblet.“Does that make me a horrible human being?”
Michael’s low laugh shook off his final crustations.“No, Mum, you’re just human.Does Cousin Shrieve know you call him Cousin It?”
“Yes, and he hates it.”She tasted the wine and smiled.“Can you forgive me?I know it’s too late, but I never meant to abandon you and Evan.Never.You were always, always in my heart.”
“It’s not too late, Mum.I forgive you.It hurt, not having you round, and still hurts sometimes.But I had no right to hate you.Every breathing human needs forgiveness.Please forgive me.”
“Oh, my dear boy, yes, of course.”Mum slipped from her chair, took Michael’s face in her hands, and kissed his forehead.“Do you know how awfully proud I am of you?”
