“Yeah. I am. This is honestly why I haven’t answered your calls or listened to your voicemails. I don’t have anything to say that you want to hear. You won’t listen to what I want. Iwantto be here. Iwantto have a relationship with my dad. Iwantto get to know the guys at the club because they’re good people.”
“They’re no-good bikers and I’m not going to get started on that whore—”
I cut her off before she has a chance to rant about the person she always saw as the other woman, even though there was nothing between my father and Rita until after he left Mom. “Iwantto have a friendship with Rita and the boys. They’re his family too. Iwantyou to make peace with that. I’m an adult and these are my choices. I’m here because I want to be here, not to hurt you or make you mad or be defiant.” I’m through with not being pissed. I can’t help myself. “You might have been cautious for a while. I could have accepted that. But keeping Dad from me for years? Not letting me tell him about the fire that I almost died in? Not giving me any of his birthday or Christmas cards? That was just so fucked up.”
Mom’s eyes bulge. “Don’t use that language, please.”
“I’ll use whatever language I want!” I slash my hand through the air, but it’s the one holding the cookie, so crumbs fly all over the kitchen. “Just like I’ll stay where I want. I’m an adult and you can donothingabout it. You aren’t going to change my mind by clinging to your own bitterness, fears, and brainwashedideas. Just because someone thinks differently than you do doesn’t make them a bad person. Youknewdad. Youknewthat no matter what happened, he never would have stopped loving me. He wasn’t going to corrupt me. You didn’t even bother to think!”
That’s a full stop, hard pause.
Mom is pretty quiet. The kitchen feels worse than a warzone.
Wordlessly, I fill the coffee maker and get it going. I dumped out the cold pot last night, so there’s no clean up this morning.
By the time I turn back around, Mom is sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. She has her knee crossed over the other. She’s upright. Defensive. We’re so far from finished with this conversation.
I keep my distance, leaning hard against the counter.
“All I ever did was think about what happened,” she says, her voice more calm and even than I thought it would be. “About your dad, about you, about all of us. I tried to reason. I tried toforgive. I tried to do the right thing. It wasn’t all about bitterness and prejudice, as you seem to think, in all your wisdom and experience of nothing happening to you in your very sheltered life.”
That’s a lose-lose for me,” I say carefully. “If I’m sheltered, it was you who kept me that way, and if I point that out, then I’m an ungrateful brat. I’m the bad daughter who lost her way. I’m just going through a rebellious phase. I’m the one too stupid to see the bigger picture.”
“You’re not stupid, Fawnie, and I know you’re not ungrateful. Maybe I was wrong. If you need to hear me say that, then I’ll say it.”
Okay, what?
Bomb blast number two. Or are we at three? Does Mom showing up here at all count as the first one?
“I want you to believe it, not just say what you think I want to hear.”
“I do believe it. I never meant to drive you away.” She covers her face with her hands and does something I’ve rarely ever seen her do.
She cries.
Her shoulders shake with her sobs.
I don’t know why she’s always felt the need to hide her emotions, but this is one of the first times that Mom’s ever cried that wasn’t behind a closed door. Other than the night of the fire, obviously. She held me andwept.
“Mom.” I pat her shoulder. I’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t know what to do to make any of this better. I don’t know how to be the parent. “You didn’t drive me away. It’s a big country and an even bigger world and I want to see some of it. Like I said, I want to get to know my dad again.” I rub small circles between her shoulder blades. “If you’re here and you can admit that you were scared and that what you did was wrong, and you want to rebuild, we can start. If you apologized to Dad and honestly meant it, I know he’d forgive you. I would too. Dad might have changed his life because he needed to, but he never changed the shape of his heart. It’s always been the biggest one I know.”
Mom raises her head. Her cheeks are tear stained and her face is flushed. I have no idea what to expect. This whole morning has been so crazy. This wholeweekhas been wild. I’ve heard truths and told truths. I’ve learned more about myself in a few days than I have inyears.
“I’d be so happy if we could sit down as a family, Mom, but don’t do it because you think that I’ll move back to Ohio. I’m not going to change my mind about staying here. I’ve already applied and been accepted at the community college. I’m making a life here. I’m here for at least the next two years while I finish my degree, and then we’ll see.”
Mom shakes her head, but it’s not ano. She brushes away her tears a little too aggressively. “I wish you would have told me you were going to do this.”
“How could I have done that?” I didn’t let her know what my plans were for obvious reasons. I told her at the last minute, which I’ll admit wasn’t great, or even very respectful, but I needed to maintain my sanity, and I was trying to help her do the same.
She bows her head and studies her hands, which she clenches between her knees. “I know that you felt that way. I’ve never given you a reason to believe otherwise,” she admits.
“Nothing’s holding you back home,” I find myself saying. That’s crazy too. Bomb blast number four. “You could sell the condo, quit a job you hate, and come here.” Right. And we could be a big happy family again. “Or move to Seattle. Or anywhere that’s closer.”
Mom’s head snaps up and her eyes flick right to my face. She studies me, but not with the same stubborn bitterness andanger that I’ve seen in her for well over a decade. It started before Dad was even gone.
My leaving was harder on her than I would have thought it was. She doesn’t just look tired and thin. It seems like she’s been grieving me too, and maybe doing some deep thinking about all of her thoughts and actions. What came out when she got here was likely pure anger and adrenaline. We’re past that. We can talk, hopefully as two adults who can share a meaningful conversation.
I have to push to the end of this, so that Mom understands. I think she’s going to listen this time, and it’s important to me that she hears me. “I’m not trying to pick Dad over you. He’s my family. He’s always going to be my dad.” I wait, and when Mom gives a tearful nod, I continue. “And… you’ll never guess what else. I met a few people here who are good at finding people. They’re just good with computers. I asked them if they could help me find the man who saved me.”
