Page 90 of Slow Hands Cowboy

“No. I wanted to love him. He was the man that my parents wanted me to marry, and I understand that. He’s been a good dad to you. He’s steady and stable, and I married him way too young. I didn’t know anything about myself, I didn’t know anything about what I wanted. I didn’t know anything about passion, so when I first encountered it I was blindsided.”

Her words were so uncomfortably like what Addison had just experienced.

“But you still left us,” Addison said.

“I know,” her mom said. “And I’m very sorry. I don’t regret leaving your father, but I do regret leaving you. I regret the way that I did it. I regret that I let my shame keep me away from you. Shame is such a powerful tool.”

Addison felt so guilty, because she was only rubbing that shame in, and she knew it.

But she wanted to yell at her mother and tell her that her entire life was shaped by that decision that she had made.

That Addison had shut down her own desires, everything that she was, everything she had ever wanted, because of her mother.

Because of her fear of turning into her.

Because Addison wanted to yell about the fact that her mother had the luxury of letting her shame win.

And Addison had suffered for it.

And had had that shame rolled downhill onto her. So that her mother could feel her own a little bit less.

But it felt futile. Because she didn’t really know her mom, and her mom didn’t really know her.

“I’m a lot like him, you know,” she said.

“That’s not a bad thing,” her mom said.

She felt bad, because at this point, she knew her mom was just saying things to make Addison less angry.

And Addison didn’t even really know what she was angry about. Sparks were flinging around inside of her. Erratic and unlabeled.

She was angry that she’d been abandoned. She was angry that she’d been left to carry the shame, she was angry that she had run away from passion for so long, and that she had nearly repeated her mother’s mistake because her mom hadn’t been around to honestly share with her what that first marriage had been for her.

“I just... I would have married Alan,” Addison said. “And I never would have left him. I would have just been Dad. In a marriage with somebody that I didn’t love, who didn’t love me. Forever. Because you couldn’t tell me this. Because I was afraid of myself. Because I was afraid of you. And being you.”

There, she’d said it. The very poisonous thing.

“I was afraid of you being me too,” her mom said. “And I really thought that if I left, you wouldn’t be. I thought I could protect you from my influence.”

It had never occurred to her, not the whole time, that her mom might believe some of what had been said about her. All this time, she had imagined that her mother had tripped lightly off into a field of hedonism and simply enjoyed herself. That her not being there was her not being remorseful. That it was her not taking responsibility.

But what if her mom hadn’t just felt the shame from other people. What if she had also been trying to outrun the shame directed at herself.

Maybe she didn’t regret leaving Addison’s dad. But it didn’t mean she didn’t feel like what they said about her was true.

“I’m just sorry,” her mom said. “And I can’t go back and change anything that I did. But I do want you to understand that I loved you the whole time. Even if I didn’t know how to show it.”

Addison nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see. She didn’t have the strength to say that she knew, or to say that she loved her back. Knowing that Jackson forgave her, that made her feel even worse. Knowing that it gave her mom reason to hope that Addison would feel the same, but Addison felt differently, and it was complicated.

Because she felt like both of her parents, and she couldn’t work out which part of her was wrong or bad. Almost like neither of them were, or everything was, and she was the person who always held it together, and she just didn’t feel like she was holding it together now.

“I’m glad that I called you,” she said, even though she wasn’t sure she meant it. “I’ll make sure not to leave it so long next time.”

“Okay. I just hope you’re doing okay.”

“I don’t know,” Addison said. “Bye.”

She hung up just as she got out of town, as soon as red brick buildings turned into mountain views.