Live, Laugh, Loathe

Chapter 22: Drew

I'm shaking as we enter the office. I knew I'd have to have this reckoning with my family sooner or later; I just really wanted it to be later.

But it's here now, and I need to just do it.

I can tell the moment she clocks our handholding. Her eyebrows shoot to the top of her forehead, and her breath hitches.

I haven't seen her in three years and haven't spoken to her in two, so I shouldn't be shocked to see that she has aged. But somehow, I am. I had her frozen in my mind and forgot that she wasn't this static evil being like my father was. He looked exactly the same to me until the day he died, and I'll never forget the monster he was. But my mom? She's still here, still aging, changing. Maybe there's hope for us?

She moves to get up, but I put my hand out and shake my head. I might be willing to talk to her, but I don't want physical contact. Surprisingly, she sits back down. Three years ago, she would have forced a hug. I almost don't want to acknowledge the fledgling hope growing inside me.

Damon and I sit across from her, and I finally speak.

"Mom, this is Damon. I'm sure he introduced himself as my boss, but he's also the baby's father." She nods to Damon but remains silent. I guess I have to keep going?

"Obviously, I'm pregnant. I haven't told you or the girls." I leave it at that; it's her turn to speak. She knows that we haven't been talking and why, so she should be able to understand why I kept them in the dark on this.

"I'm so sorry." She whispers so quietly I almost don't hear it.

"What?" I need her to repeat and explain what she's saying sorry for.

"I'm so sorry for everything. For pretending like your father didn't turn into someone, I didn't recognize. For trying to pretend that he wasn't a horrible man in the end. For never doing anything to stop it. For a long time, I didn't see it. I noticed some differences in the activities you did together, but he was so good at keeping his real treatment of you a secret at first. And then, you became this recalcitrant moody child, and I thought his anger and frustration was justified. I didn't realize that you had become that way because of him." She pauses and wipes her eyes. I stay silent; I need her to keep going.

"By the time you were in high school, I was starting to put the pieces together. But then you emancipated yourself, and I was alone with him. It was easier to go along with him than not. Which isn't an excuse; it's just the truth. And when he died, I was so lost at first. He had controlled everything, and I hadn't realized how much I relied on his control to function. So, I let Irene take over and drive the family. And you just kept slipping farther and farther away. I didn't see it then. And I'm so sorry."

She starts crying again, and deep within me, I feel some sympathy for her. But I don't let that show. Regardless of her realizations now, she still let me get abused and tried to pretend it never happened, even after he died.

"What made you decide to come to me now? You just had the annual memorial for that monster." She flinches at my tone; it's dead, flat. But it has to be that way because if I give in to my emotions right now, I'll fall apart.

"A couple of reasons. I started therapy last year, Olivia helped me. And with the help of my therapist, I began to unravel my life with your father and understand what it actually was. Not a marriage or partnership but a dictatorship. And then, at the memorial this year, I stood there listening to your sisters go up and, one by one, share memories about your father. Happy memories. And I realized he never did a single one of those things with you. He never took you to dance class or comforted you after a scrape. He never cheered you on at your fourth-grade spelling B. Nothing." She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"It was like I was struck with lightning. And when I tried to talk to your sisters about it, Irene completely shut me down. She didn't want to hear any of it. I didn't even know that she had spoken to you until then, and all Irene could say was how selfish you were being. A few days later, Olivia finally opened up about what she remembers and admitted that she feels guilty that she hasn't done more to repair things between you both. It took me a while, but I finally found where you worked and got up the courage to come and apologize. And then to realize that you're pregnant, and by the looks of it, I've almost missed it all. I'm just so, so, sorry. You were my baby, and I should have protected you."

For a minute, we just stare at each other across the room.

"What do you want?" I ask because I'm not sure what else to say. She frowns, clearly confused. "What do you want out of coming here? Are you hoping I'll just forgive and forget? That I'll welcome you and my sisters with open arms because you apologized? What do you want?" I can't help the anger seeping in now. It's white-hot. Does she think the words I'm sorry are enough?

"Oh, honey. No. I don't want your forgiveness. At least not until you're ready to give it. I just... I just want a chance to try to rebuild our relationship. Maybe help repair things with your sisters too. I want whatever you're willing to give me."

I guess that's the right answer.

Next to me, Damon shifts in his seat. I can tell he wants to talk but can't decide if it's his place or not. I squeeze his hand, silently communicating that I'm ok with him participating.

He clears his throat before speaking. "This comes from my complete outside perspective, but why don't we start by scheduling short visits? Maybe once the baby is born?"

My mom flinches at his suggestion, and I know it's because it would mean she'd not be part of this last stage of pregnancy and our kid's birth. But even if we saw each other every day between now and the due date, I wouldn't want her in that room. There's just too much to repair before I would ever let that happen.

"If that's what you want, Drew, I'll do anything." She looks at me pleadingly. I find myself nodding, agreeing to at least try. This doesn't feel real.

"Ok, once the baby is here, we can talk."

She asks a few more tentative questions about my life and how the baby is doing. It's like talking to a stranger that I've somehow known my whole life. After a few minutes, though, Damon can tell my energy is failing and offers to walk my mom out.

She tries to hug me, but I stand there stiff, unresponsive. She nods before quietly leaving, clutching Damon's offered arm like it's a lifeline.

When Damon returns, I'm still standing there, staring at nothing.

"Do you want to go home or stay here?" He asks, his hands going to my stiff shoulders, trying to rub out the knots.

"Stay here. I don't want to be alone right now." He nods and kisses my forehead before leading me to the couch and urging me to lie down. Somehow, he produces a blanket and covers my shivering body. I spend the rest of his work day drifting in and out, wondering what the hell I did to deserve this man in my life.