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I scoff, shaking my head at the way she’s characterizing my choices.
“…and I might not have understood them, but I’ve supported you anyway. I’ve stood by you, regardless of how I actually felt about it.”
“You didn’t stand by me,” I say. “As soon as dad died, you were gone. Like you didn’t even care whatIwas going through. As if you couldn’t wait to be rid of this place, of his memory.”
“That’sexactlywhy I left!”
Her voice rises, and my head jerks back at the pain I see in her face, pain I haven’t seen in…years, if I’m honest. Since that night almost two years ago when she collapsed on the floor after finding out he was gone.
I’ve never known that kind of grief before. Not when my grandfather died, even though we’d spent years watching him deteriorate before our eyes. Not when Sarah said she wanted a divorce, even though I thought we’d be together forever.
Those both felt inevitable. Like I’d been preparing for them, somehow.
But the pain of that night, of the doctor saying he was gone, just like that, no warning, no preparation, no…hint that he’d be there one day and gone the next, no chance to say goodbye…
I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.
Which is why it’s been even more painful to watch my mother gallivant around the globe like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Like she’s completely fine, unhindered by grief, unwounded by the shrapnel of loss that has left me with many, many scars.
My mother glances around, her eyes welling with tears, her face flushed.
“My memories of your father are…everywhere,” she whispers, tears beginning to trickle down her face. “I see him in everything. In everyone. I don’t go a single day without grieving the fact that he’s gone.” She shakes her head, using her napkin to dab at her face. “So don’t youdarejudge me for trying to grasp at the things that might make me happy again.”
I swallow thickly, overcome with emotion at seeing my mother like this, seeing the true pain she keeps so carefully hidden behind that mask of hers.
She turns and looks at Vance. “I’m so sorry,” she says, giving him a soft smile.
He shakes his head, lifts one of her hands, and gives the back a gentle kiss. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Then he reaches up and lightly swipes away another tear as it falls.
“I’m gonna head to the restroom and clean up,” she says, looking at me. “And when I get back, I’m going to order a damn steak and enjoy the rest of my evening. Got it?”
I grit my teeth and nod, that same shame from earlier today creeping up the back of my neck as my mother leaves the table.
Vance and I sit for long minutes in silence before he speaks. And for the first time, I don’t cut him off.
“Next to you, your father is the most important man in your mother’s life,” he says, his voice quiet, his eyes focused on the table where his fingers play with the stem of his wine glass. “That will never change.”
I look out to the water, a swell of emotion brewing in my chest.
“But I love her, and all I want to do is to make her smile,” he continues. “Which is more difficult to do every time you make her feel guilty for…not living in the most painful part of her grief every second of every day.”
Gritting my teeth, I glare at Vance. “That’s not what I want.”
“Well, it seems like it,” he replies, his curtness surprising me. “Let her be happy. Let me try to make her happy. She deserves that, don’t you think?”
I sit in silence for a few more minutes, my mind at war with itself. About all of it.
Eventually, though, I look at Vance in the eyes and I nod. “I’ll figure it out,” I tell him, knowing if my mother and I are ever going to sort things, I’ll need to let my grievances with Vance fall by the wayside.
When she returns to the table, her makeup refreshed, a smile on her face, I promise myself I’ll really give it my best effort. This isn’t what I pictured for our evening, obviously, but maybe it was for the best. Maybe finally being honest with each other about things is what my mother and I need to do to get past this emotional chapter and on to the next.
As painful as it might be.
As awkward and uncomfortable as it might feel.
Peeling back the layers of a wound never feels good, but it’s the only thing you can do if you want to clean away the bad and let it heal.
chapter eleven
