Mikey and the Chickadee

Chapter 19 - Part 2

After a moment, when we had both calmed down a bit, she gripped my arm within her small hands and said, "Wyatt, I have something I need to tell you. But first I need to say that I know I haven't been very emotionally available."

"Come on, Mom, you've been—"

"No, just let me say this now. There have been times when you've wanted to talk about something and I've been distant with you, because whatever you brought up was making me encounter my own problems and I didn't like it. You want an example of selfishness—well that's it. All I can tell you is that I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for that, Mom."

She shook her head. "Yes I do. You won't change my mind. Wyatt, the last time we talked about your career was before it ever started—your senior year of college, over the winter break. You had some considerable doubts, and I told you to stick to it. I don't think I really said anything else. It destroys me because..." She paused and looked for a moment like she was about to cry again. She let go of me and straightened herself up. "It destroys me now because I had doubts about my own career back then, but made up my mind to ignore them. My only way to hold onto that conviction was to tell you to do the same. I feel responsible in that way, and it's very painful for me."

"It's not that simple," I told her. "I respected what you told me then. I still do. And besides, you aren't the only factor when I make those decisions. You must know that."

"I do know that. But I still feel responsible. I'll get over it eventually, but right now I just need you to know that I'm sorry. I put myself before you at that time. It's the worst thing a parent can do to their child."

"That's overdoing it a little. You gave me advice, that's all."

"I gave you self-interested, and therefore bad advice."

I managed a laugh. "Fine. If that's how you really feel, then I accept your apology."

She smiled at me. "Okay, well I'll keep this brief, because it's not about me right now, but next week will be my last at the hospital. I'm taking your advice and pursuing my passion. I'm doing it for me, and no one else."

"Oh my god. Are you kidding me? That is such good news, Mom."

"I wanted to tell you right away, yesterday, when I finally went through with it, but I figured with everything you have going on that I should wait."

"No you shouldn't," I said. "I'm so happy for you."

"Well, thanks, sweetie." She gave me a hug and then sat back. "I can't believe I actually did it. Your little old mom takes care of business." She laughed, but before long some of the excitement had faded from her face. "You know, I really don't like to see you cry, Wyatt. Not like you did today. I just can't stand it."

"I know. This makes me feel better, though."

"So, will you think about it?"

"Think about what?"

She paused, laying her hands in her lap. "Think about what I did to make myself happy, and be sure that whatever you choose is going to make you happy."

I sat very still, staring at her for a moment. "Alright, Mom, I can try to do that."

She begged me to stay for dinner, but I insisted that I wasn't hungry.

"You're just like me," she said. "Your appetite vanishes when you're stressed. It's okay."

I promised her I would eat something later on.

That night I didn't cry. I didn't feel much of anything. I packed meticulously, tetrising over half of my belongings with great care into boxes and milk crates, following a methodical order of importance which would aid future retrieval.