Ain't No Mountain High Enough

"Sweet Dreams"

TW: Abuse, Addiction

"Randall?" my mother said, twisting around in the chair she was sitting in so she could see me better.

I cringed. "Um...hey."

She got up and started towards me. I couldn't do much to stop her, but I had to admit I was a little curious about how this would go. That didn't stop my hands from shaking and my mouth from running dry.

"I've been thinking about what you said." She crossed her arms over her chest, and for once she was meeting my eyes. "About proving myself to you."

I paused before saying, "And?"

"The only way I can prove that I want to make things up to you is by not giving up, I guess," she said after a moment. "I know that before, I'd say the very same things I'm saying to you now, but then by the next day, nothing would change. But that's not going to happen this time."

"But that's what you've got to prove," I said, wringing my hands so she couldn't see they were shaking. "How do I know it'll be different this time?"

She studied me, then stepped back over to her chair and dragged it over to me. She plopped down on it and thought through her words before speaking again. "I haven't had a drink in two years," she said, a faraway look coming into her eyes. "I've been in therapy for four. After I left...I had never felt so disgusting in all my life. I wanted to change things."

I looked away from her. There was a sore lump in the back of my throat, but I refused to let myself cry in front of her. I couldn't help but think about how pathetic I was, crying all the time over stuff like this. But could anyone face this with a straight face? "Why did you leave?" I finally asked, looking at her again.

"Because I was afraid," she replied. "After your father died, I...felt myself falling apart, more than I had been before. There would be moments where I was terrified I was going to take it out on you. So I left. But I fell in with the wrong crowd after that. I thought I could just...forget about everything if I tried hard enough. Eventually I couldn't stand to be like that anymore. So I went to rehab."

I sat there in silence for a few minutes. I couldn't figure out what to say to her. If she had tried to get better, and succeeded...what did that say about her willingness to mend things with me? Was she going to try harder there, too?

"I know you don't believe me right now, and I don't blame you for that," she said. "I'm not even going to apologize, because I know that's pretty meaningless. So I'll just show you."

"Then show me," I said, locking eyes with her. "All I've wanted for the longest time was to have you be my mom. Ms. Harlow can play the part of being my mom, but even when I was little, it wasn't enough. I wanted my real mom. Do you know what that's like?"

After a brief pause, she nodded slowly. "Yes...I do."

That made my heart skip a beat. When I was little, I had met my grandmother once. My grandfather died before I was born (my dad's parents lived in a different country, so I never met them). But my grandmother...there were two memories of her that stood out in my mind. Christmas morning at her house- the one good memory; the other was the bad memory, when she had overdosed on some kind of drug. I was seven then, and I remember being upset, but not fully understanding what was happening. But now I realized that my mother must have had a lot of the same experiences as me with her own mother. I frowned at her. "If you knew what that was all like- what it's like now- then why did you let it happen?"

My mother stood, wringing her hands. "We are the products of our parents," she said, almost numbly. She turned to me. "But...maybe you can break that chain. You're already doing better than I was at your age, and my mother, too."

I narrowed my eyes. "Only because I tried early on. I swore I'd never be like you, especially if I ever became a parent." It wasn't likely that I'd ever be a parent now, but still.

"I'm proud of you for that," my mother said, a slight, sad smile on her face. "Hold onto that." She came up to me, and after a brief hesitation, she touched my shoulder. "You're so grown up...so mature."

Because I had to grow up and be mature, even when I was little. I had her and my dad to thank for that.

"I promise I'll prove to you that I mean what I say. I'll be your mom before I die."

Despite everything, tears pricked my eyes again. Geez, I was such a baby! I bit my tongue and stayed silent, then watched her walk past me and back into the building. Now I was just more confused than ever. I wanted her to prove to me that she could be my mom again. But man, I really didn't want to go through that disappointment again. I didn't think I could handle it this time. But if it did work out, then I would have her back in my life. I decided I would just talk about it to Ms. Harlow and get her advice, since my brain felt too full of my foggy judgment.

After sitting outside a few moments longer, I headed inside and up to Valerie's apartment.

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Thanks for reading!

Listen to "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics!

Peace✌️~ A.J.