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“I couldn’t have those lying around for someone to find. I threw them in the open log fire when we arrived home.”
“You did what? Didn’t you think we may have this out at some point? That I’d want to know those details? What was the name of the organization you dealt with?”
“Good grief, Patty. That was thirty years ago, how could I be expected to remember that?”
“How could you be expected to remember?” Tricia’s voice sounded almost hysterical. “How could you not remember every detail of signing away the parental responsibility for your granddaughter? I had an excuse, Mom, I was young and ill.” I heard the anguish and exasperation in Tricia’s broken voice as emotion clogged her throat.
“You almost died after having that child, why would you want to remember? And what good would this do? You had better get a handle on this and contain it, Patty. Your father isn’t a young man anymore. If he ever got wind of this, it would kill him.”
“Funny that you should turn this back on me again. What would kill him, Mom, me getting pregnant, or you arranging to have his grandchild adopted and hiding that fact for thirty years? Who do you think he’d be most angry with? Which of those two situations would kill him?”
“Look, I’m sorry—” Betty began.
“Are you? Jesus, Mom. Thirty years I’ve waited for those words to come out of your mouth, but I’d envisioned them heartfelt and with much more sincerity than they sounded. But what is clear to me is you never gave a damn about what happened to my baby or the burden I’ve carried since then. I need to tell you if it hadn’t been for Dad, you’d never have seen me again.”
“He must never find out, promise me,” she pleaded.
“Sorry, Mom, I can’t make promises I can’t keep, but I’m giving you the opportunity to tell him before I do. But believe me, this is going to come out… Marnie needs to know too. Then what will you do? Do you know why they need to know?”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t what? The wheels are already in motion Mom, and Karma’s a bitch. My child is looking for me. She hasn’t found me yet, but I believe she’s found Marnie—Fuck. James, get in here.” I bolted into the sitting room and found Betty passed out on the couch.
“Oh, dear God, I’ve killed her,” Tricia shrieked, clutching her hair in her hands with a haunted look in her wide, shocked eyes. I dropped down by the couch and felt for a pulse on Betty’s wrinkled neck. Relief washed through me when I found a slow steady rhythm.
“She’ll be fine, she’s passed out, but I can’t say she didn’t have what you said coming,” I mumbled, sounding unsympathetic toward Betty as I tended to her and rolled her onto her side.
“That didn’t give me pleasure, James,” Tricia confessed. When I looked up, worry etched her beautiful face and clouded her eyes. I must have looked heartless to Tricia, but the only feelings I had cared about in that moment were Tricia’s.
“It wasn’t much fun for her either,” I remarked dryly. “Get her a glass of water, she’s a tough old bird, she’s not going to die, but I think when she wakes up and remembers the ass drilling you gave her, she’ll wish that she had.” Tricia grimaced at my comment, and despite all she’d been through I saw love and hate, a truly tortured soul, with the look she gave her mom.
* * *
When Betty came round, she looked horrified the second she saw me. “I’m fine,” she said shakily, trying to sit up but had needed support to sit straight.
“Patty, you had no need to call, James,” she remarked. I chuckled because of how fucked-up, as well as stuck-up her mom behaved. Even after a faint she had still been hell-bent on impressing someone.
“I’ve been here all along,” I told her, “in the bedroom.” I nodded at the bedroom door and the look of horror on her face would have been laughable, except for the fact she was a woman in her mid-seventies, and she was still Tricia’s mom. If anything had happened to Betty, I felt Tricia would never have forgiven herself.
Unlike her daughter, Betty recovered much quicker from her faint. That fact alone told me her depth of feeling for Tricia’s plight was barely skin-deep. With both women sitting quietly, I poured us all a stiff drink; a vodka, lime, and ice for Tricia, a cream sherry for her mom, and a single malt whiskey for myself.
Betty looked mortified I had put her on the spot by my presence, but since she knew I’d heard everything they had said, I had a few things to say for myself.
My fingers itched to sit close to Tricia to hug away some of her pain, but had I done so I felt it may have weakened her resolve, so I kept my hands to myself in order to help her stay strong. Strategy was key in negotiation my father had taught me. That, and to have a plan and work it in my favor. I also knew if the conversation were to progress, I had to be seen as an arbitrator, even if I was on Tricia’s side.
“Betty, I think Tricia has been very brave in asking you here today.”
Her mom bristled in her seat and folded her arms, defensively. “I just don’t see—”
I held my hand up to stop her. “I’m doing the talking right now and I need you to listen. You can say what you want when I’m done, and Tricia has had her say. This way we’re all heard and all of our opinions matter.”
Cocking her eyebrow, her eyes then narrowed as she stared me down and I saw how difficult she found it not to reply.
“Having heard what you said, I believe you were ignorant as to how tortured your daughter has been for all these years. I’m also concerned that when she told you, you were dismissive of her feelings. People’s perceptions shouldn’t matter in family situations… they don’t matter, Betty. I believe you fainted when you were touched by the thought your husband, Tricia’s father, may find out about the skeleton in your closet, not because of any distress for Tricia’s plight back then. What you don’t know is your daughter passed out just telling me her secret. Contrary to how you thought I may react to Tricia’s confession, Betty, I adore your daughter for all her flaws. I am very proud of her for facing that traumatic time in her life. Talking aloud is the first step to finding some peace in the shame of it all.”
“It was traumatic for me, too. I had—” I held my hand up again.
“My turn,” I said sternly, but with a gentle smile to soften the blow of shutting her up. It was clear she’d been used to taking more than her turn, but I felt determined to show Betty she wasn’t the important party in this situation.
