“And for the record, if it’s Coach Clay you end up dating, that would be fine with me too. He’s a cool guy. I like him.”
I almost choke on words but swallow them instead, looking at her and acknowledging her thoughts. That’s one less thing to worry about.
23
DOOMED TO LIVE IN THEIR SHADOWS
Ronan (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift
Holden
Another dayI’m at the hospital, trying to get more answers. I had a long session yesterday afternoon with my therapist. We talked extensively about what I want to take from this newfound relationship with Jerry. In the end, we reached the conclusion that I may want a lot of things I can’t really have. But above all, I want answers. I want peace. I want to know the whole story, or at least his side.
We also talked about all the anger bubbling inside me. My mom could do no wrong. She was as close to perfect as they come. Absolutely brilliant, kind, fair, and honest. So why did she lie about this?
I posed the same question to Patricia, the therapist, but she said we can only speculate why she did. We can form an educated guess, but we will never know why. I need to find my peace with that.
But it’s hard.
I miss her.
I’m mad at her.
I love her.
Why?
So many whys.
But overall, we decided Jerry needs to know the truth about Liz. It’s probably going to break him. He didn’t even get to know her. I don’t know if that’s worse or better. To know Liz was to love her, and to miss her feels like taking a shot straight in the heart.
Jerry’s always sleeping when I get here, no matter what time. He says it makes him tired, so he tries to sleep so afterwards, he can have some energy for whatever activities they have at the senior center. Does he have goals beyond that? He still has so much life in him, and although he seems happy there, he’s the only family I have left. I do wonder about it. It does make me feel less shitty to know he has a good place to live.
I always let him sleep. There’s no reason to wake him. He always stirs and finds me, and the reaction is always the same. Surprise.
Just like now, when he opens his eyes.
“Son.” It’s always the first thing he says, no matter how many times I’ve told him not to call me that. I won’t fight him this time; instead, I slide my computer into the bag.
“You came back.” Another thing he always says.
“I did.” My usual reply. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” He shivers, and I grab the extra blanket, covering him up. He said nothing helps him feel warmer, but maybe today is the day it will. So, I cover him up.
“Is there anything I can do?”
He shakes his head. “No. Some days just suck harder.”
Yeah, tell me about it.
We sit in a suffocating silence for longer than usual. I don’t want to ask questions; I want him to offer information willingly, but it doesn’t feel like it’s going to happen, so I start talking instead. “The other day, you said Mom had another child, and you assumed she was married.”
“Brenda was a good woman, a great wife and mom. I wasn’t surprised she found someone else to love her right. I was pissed at myself because I couldn’t get my shit together enough for it to be me.”
“She didn’t.” His eyes widen. “She didn’t find someone else to love. She died single. She was too preoccupied with us to date, and if I’m being honest, I think she was worried it would happen again. She was happy, though. A little lonely, but happy.”
He swallows hard, questions bouncing between his eyes.
