A Neat Mess

46 Mother's Love

The woman who opened the door wore a grey suit jacket over a collared blouse, her short, neat blonde hair highlighted, and high heels clicking softly on the floor. Everything about her screamed "real estate agent in her sixties." It seemed like they were too late.

"How may I help you?" she asked.

Pip stepped back and said, "Sorry, I think we're in the wrong place."

Ben stopped her. "We're here to talk to Mrs. Christina Hay, or anyone who can direct us to her," he said.

"I might be able to help you if I know what this is about," the woman replied eloquently.

"It's about her daughter," Pip said.

The woman's polite smile went cold. "She's dead?" she asked.

Ben quickly clarified, "No, she's fine. You are Ms. Hay?"

"Hay was my married name. I changed back to my maiden name after Sam finished school. If she isn't dead, then you must be the police. I haven't heard from her in the past ten years," Christina said.

"Ten years? That is odd," Ben remarked. "I'm Ben, Sam's husband." He reached out for a handshake. "And this is Pip. We'll explain why we're here if you give us half an hour of your time."

Christina scanned them for a second, perhaps trying to understand what was going on. She finally gave up and let them in. The interior of the house was vintage with a modern touch in the kitchen—neat and inviting, more like something out of an interior design magazine. They sat down on a white lounge, both surprised by the contrast to what they had expected.

"Sorry, I was getting ready to go to work, so we have to make it quick," Christina said.

Ben began, "Sam talked about you—not very much. I always pictured you as a typical Christian white lady."

"My mother was more of a 'God's person'; I'm not much like that. There was a point when I hit a dead end and prayed as a last resort—a lot. And guess what? As I expected, it didn't help. So I pulled the trigger on God and took matters into my own hands. What else has she told you to justify my total absence from her life? You still haven't told me why you're here."

She was a sharpshooter for sure. It sounded like she had been preparing for this day.

"She has no idea we're here. We came to ask you about..." He was interrupted by Pip again. "Family history—specifically yours and her father's, regarding her condition, which we believe she's been dealing with from a very young age. We need family history, and what she's provided doesn't make sense. Can you tell us about her father? How did he die?"

"Sam's father isn't dead—at least not until a couple of nights ago when I saw him at the RSL. He's a good man, but given Sam's condition, I had to choose a side. Sam needed me more."

"Was that why you divorced him, or did he play a significant role in her condition?" Pip asked, aware that she was treading on uncertain ground. She hoped to shift the blame onto Sam and her lies. "Sam blames her father, and we need to know more about him."

"That's news to me. Compared to his brother—a paranoid schizophrenic with a history of drug abuse who accidentally killed himself—Sam's father was a decent man. But war breaks people. He was calm and kind, but maybe joining the army, given his family history of mental illness, wasn't the best decision. He was tormented by nightmares and panic attacks. He was adamant about not having children because of his family's mental health history and his own post-traumatic stress. I begged him to have Sam, and he finally agreed after I promised we could overcome nature with nurture. But I was wrong. I left him because I couldn't expose him to what Sam was becoming—it was a gradual unraveling, something dark and dangerous that I feared would destroy him. Sam always blamed me for my selfish decisions, as she said countless times. Now she's blaming her father?"