Jessie
Iroll over and reach for Trey, only to find the bed empty. I’ve done this exact thing the past few mornings since I woke up, and he was gone. I breathe in, fighting back fresh tears—tears for Gran, tears for what I lost with Trey. Since he walked up to me in the cemetery, it feels like I haven’t been able to stop crying. Seeing him broke the dam inside of me; with him, I was safe to grieve the worst of the pain.
I open our text thread, rereading the text I woke up to the morning he left.
Trey
I’m always here if you need me. Never forget that.
He’s a good man, and I threw our relationship away before it even began. I didn’t deserve for him to fly back here, but he did it anyway. Now I’m the coward who hasn’t been able to text himback. I’ll always regret the damage my father has caused and continues to cause in my life.
I’m still not back at work and I’m not sure when I’ll go back. I took my five-day bereavement leave and now I’m using PTO. My stomach rolls at the thought of stepping back into that ER. With my monthly bills significantly lower, I can afford the time off, and I plan to take it. I don’t think I could make it through a shift, let alone provide high-quality care, and that’s not fair to my co-workers or patients.
I still haven’t decided what to do about Daryl, but my give-a-fuck meter is at an all-time low. Thankfully, I haven’t heard from him. I’ve decided to ignore the issue until I’m forced to do something about it. Mentally, I can’t handle anything else right now.
I’m rummaging around my mostly-empty fridge when there is a knock at the door. I’ve ignored every text and call for the past two days. I needed time to grieve, and I didn’t want an audience for that. But I guess they’ve decided that showing up is their next course of action.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumble. Yanking open the door, I look into a pair of hazel eyes identical to mine—because standing at my front door is the woman who gave them to me.
I haven’t seen my mother, Sheila, in years. The last time I saw her was outside a gas station several years ago. I walked right past her, and she never registered who I was.
Taking her in now, it’s clear substance abuse has aged her past her years, but her eyes are clear. Her hair has gone gray, but she has it styled, and she’s dressed in nice clothes. She looks clean. Put together, even. “Hi, Jessie. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m your mom, I’ve—”
“I know who you are. Gran didn’t leave you anything in her will.” I start to shut the door on her, but her next words stop me.
“I left your father a year ago. I just got out of rehab.”
I stop the door, holding it halfway closed, giving her the opportunity to continue.
“I know you don’t owe me anything, and you can slam that door in my face, and I wouldn’t blame you. I just— I came here to apologize and give you my condolences. I know I wasn’t a good mom or a good daughter, but my mom really wasthe best. I’m sorry you lost her.”
I open the door enough that she can see my face. “You’re right, you weren’t. You were never a mother to me. She raised me and everything good about me came from her.”
“I know. I let drugs ruin everything good in my life, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize that. I’m clean now—for over six months.”
I nod. I don’t have anything else to say to the woman who left me to sleep in the garage and starve.
“I don’t deserve it, but not mending my relationship with my mom will be one of my biggest regrets of my life. I’d like the chance for us to do that someday, if you might want that, too. We could still have a relationship, make new memories together.”
I scoff. “Memories? I have one good memory from those early years, and it wasn’t even with you. Daryl took me to the park and got me an ice cream cone. He let me get sprinkles, and for a few minutes, I got to feel what it felt like to be a normal kid getting ice cream with her father. As I got older, I realized he didn’t take me to the park. He took me to a drug dealatthe park. The ice cream was a distraction. How fucked up is that? You were nonexistent my entire childhood. Even when we were in the same room, you were too high to realize I was even there.”
Tears build in her eyes, but she waits patiently for me to finish. “I know. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Jessie. I was so addicted. I have years of my life I don’t even remember, but I know Daryl was horrible to you. That’s why I never came looking for you—you were better off with Mom.” She brushes her hands down herpants, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. “Your father tried to get me to come back, but I won’t do it. I know he takes money from you, and I want you to know I’m working with the police to help build a case against him. If you ever wanted to—”
“No,” I snap. “I don’t want anything to do with that. I can’t. I understand you’re sorry, and I’m glad you went to rehab. I am. But while you’ve figured your life out, mine train-wrecked. If Daryleverfound out I talked to the police, you know exactly what he would do.”
She nods with understanding.
“Gran loved you,” I tell her. “Even after everything, she loved you. She told me stories about you, from when you were little, and never once said a bad word about you. Losing that relationship should be the biggest regret of your life. So, I understand you want to reconnect or whatever the fuck, but I . . . I can’t right now. It’s too much.”
She wipes a tear away. “I understand. Can I leave you my number? Then, if you’re ever ready, you can call? I’m staying clean, Jessie, I promise. If you’re ever ready to give me a chance at a relationship with you, please reach out.”
I pull out my phone and enter the number she gives me. Before I close the door, she adds, “I’m going to keep working with the police. Daryl deserves to be in prison, where he can’t ever hurt you or anyone else again.”
I’m lying on my couch, staring at the ceiling, still trying to process my mother’s surprise visit.
Knock, knock.
I ignore it.
