Oh, God.
They’ll never forgive me. Either of them.
“Why would you do this?” I struggle to get the lid on the box. “Meddle in my own life because-because you think I’m—what? What the hell is this?”
She says nothing.
“I—God, Mom,” I say through a groan. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“I wanted to help.” She slips her glasses back on as she stands across from me. “I lived through missing Rueben, and I didn’t want that for you. Thought if you gave it time, you’d want to—I don’t know—find him. Let him grow up. But then you never talked about it and the postcards kept coming and I didn’t want to upset you, so?—”
“For eight years?” I shriek. A clatter from the store reminds me Bennie is out there. I think of her random mentions of him over the last days—there’s no possible reality that this ends well. In a harsh whisper: “This will crush Bennie.”
“She’s a smart girl, Rue.”
“Smart?” I repeat. “You thinksmartis enough to handle the fact your mother has lied to you about your father being dead?”
She says nothing.
“Were you going to let me marry Jonathan without telling me?”
“I was waiting for the right time. But you’ve been so stressed about the money and?—”
“We’re getting married next month!”
Her mouth snaps shut.
“And, what? I’m supposed to go find Nash and say, ‘Hey, Nash, thought we were divorced. Sign here. Oh, by the way, you have a kid’?” My knuckles go white around the box as bile rises in my throat. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Maybe if you meet your own father, it will help you make a different choice. Maybe it’s fate them being in the same city. Maybe you and Nash still?—”
“And maybe you should have brain surgery.”
It lands so heavily between us I swear the walls tremble.
“Mom.” I blow out the longest exhale of my life. “I love you. But even if I wanted to go to Charleston—even if I wanted to meet this dad who doesn’t know me or go tell Nash everything, I’m not leaving you—not knowing you have a tumor that has you acting insane and needs to be operated on. I don’t care if the doctor says you’re fine, I won’t do it. And we need money. Fast. This isn’t the time for—” I look at the box holding the mess of my life. “Any of this.”
“I’m not insane,” she says simply. “But maybe—” She looks at the box. “Bennie’s been asking questions and maybe you need to have better answers. And Nash hasn’t sent a postcard in a while, and this one is different—like maybe he’s done.”
At this, I laugh. Fully psychotic. “Mother, he wasdonethe day he drove away.”
“He only did that because you told him to.”
I clamp my teeth together so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t turn to dust. I may have told him to leave, but all he had to do was fight harder than he did to stay. He left because it was what he wanted to do.
“There’s nothing wrong with playing it safe and not buying every crystal ball you want to buy.” I march toward the door. “Just because you aren’t happy with your life, doesn’t mean I can’t be happy with mine.”
I’m done here. With her and this conversation.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to go have a nervous breakdown.” I pause in the doorway. “And then I’m going to come up with a plan to fix all this.”
Before she can respond, I’m down the hall, stomping out of the store and racing down the road without telling Bennie goodbye.
Seven
The papers scattered across Jonathan’s tidy desk are as jarring as a faux patina finish on an old silver tea set.
