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“Yeah.” I let out a long breath. “That’s not the point, though.”
She turns in my arms. Brings her hands to the sides of my head. Combs through my hair with her fingers. “You know, when I was in my session a couple of days ago, Dr. Calder and I talked all about Mia. How finding me like that was going to affect her. When she gave me a list of possible reactions she might exhibit, the concept of role reversal hit me like a ton of bricks.”
“I don’t understand.” I stare into the pools of her eyes. Wise beyond her years. It’s always been that way.
“Mia is exhibiting behavior where she says and does little things to make me ‘feel better.’ She’s used those exact words. I think she’s still little enough that she doesn’t know about the custody shit. Or about the Xanax, per se. But, she knows something’s off with me and probably has her entire life. I’m sad. Stressed. All these things.” She smooths my hair. “So, she’s sassy and funny, and yeah—it’s a lot like me when I was a kid. But also, it’s a defense mechanism reaction to her environment. Just like my behavior was in reaction to mine.”
I want to tell her she’s off-base, but what she says rings true. “Sure, okay …”
“Mia should never feel emotionally responsible for her mother.” Fee states this definitively. “Just like I shouldn’t have felt responsible for my mom. The difference is my mom essentially has spent her life telling me Iwasresponsible for her well-being. That’s our dynamic. When I break that cycle, she lashes out. Or leaves. I haven’t heard from her. It’s made me realize, I’ve got to course correct before it’s too late. I would die before I did that to Mia. Or any kids we’ll have.”
I lean down and kiss her. Because she’s talking about our future kids. “I love you. You’ll never be like Faye.”
“You need to work on it too. So do I with you.” Fee twirls one of my curls with her finger. “We need help to figure out how to break some of our patterns.”
“I don’t …” I protest.
“Yeah, you do. Not always, but you often feel responsible for my well-being. “ She squints at me. “As Dr. Calder explained it to me, it’s normal for adults in a relationship to want to help their partner and provide emotional support. That night in the elevator, you felt responsible to make me love my body the way you love it. We had a whole conversation about my inability to love you …”
I shake my head. “Fee, it’s different …”
“No, it’s not. You felt responsible to come find me when Faye moved me to Bellingham. You forced a relationship with Carter to get to me.” She tilts her head. “Not that I’m complaining, it was a sweet and beautiful gesture. I’m grateful for you, Zaney.”
“I would do anything for you, babe.” I scan her eyes. Looking for acceptance. Understanding.
She loops her arms around my neck. Pulls my head to hers. “It’s an observation, not an accusation. Because, as you well know, I have my own bullshit ways of manipulating things to fit my own internal narrative. I want to fully trust you again. It’s not your fault. We’re the product of what happened to us as kids. Somewhere deep inside me, I’ve always worried you’d leave me. So, I push you to fulfill my fear and then I get mad at you. There are so many examples. Just like you said. I lied to you about dating football players. The love hack. When I made you move out during the custody battle. Using Xanax to manage my anxiety, instead of dealing with my shit.”
“You’re oversimplifying.” I press my lips to hers again. “But I get what you’re saying.”
“I am. But … when we add in all of these complicated layers. Faye. Carter and Lianne, and whatever the hell’s going on there. You and Carter. Now Ty and Carter … you have a brother, Zane. He’s your family. We have a daughter. He’s having a son. Let’s go to Arizona and do the work.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “I’m ready.”
I squeeze her as tightly as I can without hurting her.
Looks like we’ve got to make some calls.
As scary as it all seems to dig into this shit, we’ll be doing it together.
Who knows what miracles might happen.
Chapter twenty-five
FIONA
One Month Later
Arizonaisoppressivelyhotin September, who the hell could live here year round? Not me, that’s for damn positive.
This year, though, it’s the best place I could hope for.
Our rental in Desert Mountain is in a private, gated community on six acres with stunning views of the mountains. We have six en-suite bedrooms and a casita. A huge modern pool. Amenities we could only begin to dream up. Aside from the heat, it’s the perfect place for healing.
To compensate, us Northwesterners keep the AC turned up as high as it will go. The misters are working double-time on the patio. All in all, it’s comfortable for our family.
Me and Zane. Mia. Olga. Zoey. Carter and Lianne. We’ve been here for four weeks with three to go. Ty is living at the facility, mainly because he’s doing extra work to learn how to cope with the severe trauma he endured as a child. It’s his story to tell, but learning some of the details has been devastating. Particularly for Carter and Zoey, but it’s part of our family history.
No one is shying away from anything. It’s hard, emotional work.
Well, except for Faye. She isn’t here. I received a horrible, ranting voice mail raging at me for even inviting her. It’s something I’m learning to cope with. She’s not ready or willing, I can’t force her. I’d love to have a wonderful relationship with my mother, but it takes two of us. What’s been freeing is realizing I don’t need to feel guilty for distancing myself from people—or behavior—that isn’t healthy for me.
