WORK IN PROGRESS: Guy and Reason

Chapter 9 (Eden/Reason): He's Talking About You

My mother wasn't funny even though she thought she was hilarious.

That made one of us.

And if she made one more crack about my so-called felonious life, she and I were going to dance.

"Mom," I explained for maybe the thousandth time, "I don't have a record. I was never arrested. No mug shot exists. I was never behind bars. And stop saying you had to post bail because you didn't!"

"Well, I had to go down to the police station to get you released. Same thing basically."

I bet my dentist was going to love her once I'd ground all my teeth to dust. "Not even close, Mom."

It was only the morning after I'd embarked on my life of crime, as my mother described it, and I could already tell I was never going to hear the end of it. Mom was getting too much mileage out of it, and I knew, despite what she'd said, that the Christmas letter would have a picture from Orange Is the New Black and my head photoshopped over one of the character's.

"So, some of us were texting last night after it all went down and were thinking about forming a support group for those of us who have daughters who've turned to a life of crime. Sarah said she'd bring a charcuterie board for the meeting -- she knows how to twist cold cuts to look like roses -- and Pam promised a dessert selection. I'm good for the wine."

"I can't even with you," I said.

My mom waggled her hand at me in excitement. "Oh, we've got the first few meetings planned out. One night we're going to learn how to make shivs from razor blades and a lighter, another night how to smuggle utensils from the cafeteria --"

"You're going to get shanked if you keep this up," I glared at her. 

"Oh, the shanking how-to isn't until the third meeting."

"Mom!"

"Fine. I'll stop," she sighed, then she looked at me so seriously I dreaded what was coming. "I hate this, Eden. I hate that you've been so heavy-hearted since you found out he got back."

"Mom, what do you expect?"

"I expect his presence in town not to make a difference to you."

"It doesn't."

Her look called me out as a liar.

"I think you need to talk with him, honey." Her voice was silk over steel.

"I already talked to him. It didn't change anything."

"I was hoping it would," she said. "I was hoping that just throwing your pain at him would help you, give you closure. But it hasn't. So I think you need to carry this through to the end."

She was brewing, I could tell, about to bubble over...and she did.

"You only half talked to him. You told him how you felt, but you didn't get any answers, Eden. It's three years later, and you've told yourself you've moved on, but you're closing up like a poppy at sunset with him being in town."

"What do you want me to do? Listen to all the horrible things he did?"

"You already did when he told you about each instance. What you didn't ask was all of the whys you have running around in that head of yours. And don't tell me they aren't still there because that was the only word out of your mouth for weeks after it happened. Why? Why, Mom? Why did he do this to me? What happened was devastating to you, Eden, and you turned your back on it without getting any answers. I was so proud of the way you held your head up and got on with things. But you never got your answers, and I think that's been holding you back."