I reminded myself of all of that repeatedly, but it doesn’t make the guilt of leaving any easier.
But what if it happens again?
What if Mark leaves her, and she has nobody?
What if the doctor’s got it wrong, and the physical therapy won’t actually help her?
I hated that I felt a deep sense of heaviness inside of me for her wellbeing, when she and I both knew she didn’t deserve it.
She’s your mother,my bruised and battered heart kept reminding me.
But my head? It was telling me I was doing the right thing.
When I’d gotten back to Grangewood Creek, I threw myself onto my couch, with no intention of leaving it, until my TV just wouldn’t turn on.
Robbie came over, fiddled with some cords, and it came to life. I walked him out my front door, saw Cole walking toward the elevator with a bag over his shoulder, and I panicked, quickly shutting it behind me, only to open and close it once more when I’d seen him.
I plopped myself back down on my couch, and mindlessly flicked through the options on Netflix until I found something I wanted to watch.
Mean Girls.
And when Cady said, “The limit does not exist,” I knew I needed to cry, and I knew I needed Cole to tell me it was OK to do so.
But I couldn’t bring myself to hit ‘send’ on the text, even though it was typed out and ready to go.
This is new territory for me. It’s the type of text I’d usually send Cassandra, but without wanting to disturb her while she’s on her honeymoon, he was the next best option.
Thesafestoption. Because that’s how he made me feel.
Safe.
I’ve hardly been alone with him enough to even warrant feeling that way, but I just knew he would give me the comfort I was so desperately craving, even after I’d convinced myself I was fine, and forced myself to believe it.
He blocks out the noise, quietens the static in my head, and allows me to feel every little emotion I’d accumulated over the last twenty-six years, and he watched as it just…overflowed.
I had spent hours pacing my apartment when the movie finished, trying to fight the devil on my shoulder that told me being in Grangewood Creek was where I belonged, while the eager little girl on the other one begged me to go be with her mom.
But the devil won out, and for the first time in my life, I putmyselffirst—something I have never, ever done before.
Once I’d accepted that I was my own priority, I got comfortable in my bed, kindle in hand, only for my eyes to feel the weight of a thousand books, barely able to stay open. I took it as a sign that sleep was about to crash over me, and I welcomed it with open arms, but I waited for something that would never come.
I tossed and turned for hours.
My back.
My side.
My stomach.
My back again with a pillow over my head, but nothing seemed to work.
I just couldn’t shake the decision I’d made by coming back here. Jobs come and go…but she…God, she’s my mom, and that’s something that will never change.
So, instead of impulsively booking a flight back, I tried to make myself remember anything good with her, so that I had a valid reason to stay in California, and show up for her physicaltherapy. But I scraped the walls of my brain until they bled, all while searching for a single memory.
The bad times were the only ones I could recall.
How I got the tiny scar on my chin.
