“I’m waiting.” Mark taps his fingers on the vinyl covered counter between us.
“You’re going to be waiting a while, then,” I whisper back, and my mom kicks my foot under the table.
“Jennifer,” she hisses, her final warning before she either leaps over the table and drags me out by my hair or runs out crying, claiming to be the victim.
I sigh. “My mom knows why I left.” I put it simply. “And if she doesn’t feel like sharing it with herhusband, then that’s something that the two of you need to discuss without me.” I go to pick up my bag and leave, but he puts his arm on my bicep to stop me.
“We’re not done. Sit down.” I roll my eyes. I watch as my mom flinches, her eyes threaten to well with emotion.
I don’t know if it’s because I could reveal the truth and she could lose everything, or if she’s embarrassed that he’s causing a scene. My guess is the former.
“Tell me where you’ve been while your mom has been struggling.” He slams his fist down onto the table, and this time, we both flinch. I hate that it scares me. I hate that my lip trembles in fear.
“I’ve been exactly where she wanted me to be: not with her,” I whisper, and hang my head, hoping it’s enough. Gripping my mug, I do my best to not break it with my bare hands.
“If you really knew how much your mother loved you, you would never have left her the way that you did.” He scoffs at me, and I let go of my mug, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. “Your Mom told me you guys were close,” he says, my mom’s head bobbing frantically beside him. When I look up at her, I see a single tear fall down her cheek. I’ve gone from confident and so sure, to a terrified, little girl again. All because a man raised his voice at me. Mark tilts his head at my reaction. “Is she wrong?”
I want to rise from my seat and scream.
I want to tell him he has no right.
I want to tell him she’s only with him because I cut her off.
But I can’t, because I know firsthand the things my mother is capable of saying and doing when things don’t go her way.
I might be a grown woman, but I’m still terrified of my mom and the hurtful things she has loaded in her ‘verbal gun’, patiently waiting to pull the trigger.
I don’t fight back.
Not this time.
I think the days of me fighting back are over.
I’m too tired.
Let her hurt me.
Let her break my heart.
Let her ruin me, piece by piece.
I can’t do it anymore.
“I’ve watched her every single day attempt to come to terms with her new reality.” He grips the cane resting on the side of the table that I hadn’t noticed until now.
I didn’t watch her walk through the door, or I would’ve noticed more of a change in her.
I give a weak nod.
“I’ve been by her side for every session of therapy. Blood tests, scans. You name it,I’vebeen there.” This time I give nothinguntil the silence lingers for a little too long, and he clears his throat. “Well?”
“So then, why are you here, Mark? Do you want some sort of trophy? Shouldn’t she still be back in California trying to focus on her recovery? If we’re talking about thingsyou’reresponsible for, how about we talk about how you took her away from her medical team all because you wanted to try your luck at meeting fucking football players?” I straighten my back, perching my elbows up onto the table that separates us.
“If youmustknow, herteamgave her the all clear to have a few days off, and I wanted you to take some sort of accountability. Your mother wouldn’t let me come to you alone,” he spits back at me, his voice raised ever so slightly, and I involuntarily look over my shoulder to make sure no one can hear us.
My mom hasn’t said a word this entire time. When I look at her, the expression she gives me is smug. Like she knows she’s fed him a web of lies, but is enjoying the way I squirm, knowing I could never repeat the things she’s said to me.
Not out loud, anyway.
