Where the Wounds Bloom

Chapter Fourteen: Tommie.

Kari lay in bed, her eyes fixed on the shadows that stretched across the ceiling. She tried to focus on her breathing, to ground herself like she’d learned to do, but her thoughts kept dragging her back to earlier that evening. Their mother, Tommie, standing on the doorstep, the familiar scent of cheap perfume and stale cigarettes clinging to her like an old, unwelcome memory. The shock on Skye’s face, the glass slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor.

That sound—the sharp, brittle crack—echoed in Kari’s mind, and before she knew it, she was back in time, slipping into a memory she hadn’t revisited in years.

---

She was seven years old, standing in their small kitchen, her hands shaking as she tried to hold the glass of iced tea. But her grip faltered, and the glass slipped through her fingers, hitting the floor with a loud crash. Iced tea splattered everywhere, pooling around the shards, and Kari’s breath caught in her chest as she stared down at the mess she’d made.

Tommie stormed in from the living room, her face flushed with annoyance. She took one look at the broken glass and the tea soaking into the faded linoleum, and her expression twisted into a scowl.

“Kari, what did you do?” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the air. “Do you know how much that glass cost me?”

Kari shrank back, pressing herself against the counter as her mother’s anger washed over her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, Mom. It was an accident.”

Tommie didn’t seem to hear her. She bent down, sweeping the broken pieces into her hand with quick, irritated motions. “Accidents don’t pay the bills, Kari. Do you know how hard I work to keep this place going? And you just... break things like it’s nothing.”

To her mother, everything always came down to money. The value of things, the cost of mistakes. Kari watched as Tommie tossed the glass shards into the trash, her expression still tight with anger. And even at that young age, Kari understood that her mother’s frustration wasn’t just about the glass. It was about everything—every missed bill, every gamble that hadn’t paid off, every moment where life felt like it was slipping out of her control.

Kari clenched her little fists, trying to swallow the lump that formed in her throat, knowing that there would be no comforting words, no reassurance. Just the weight of her mother’s disappointment settling over her like a heavy blanket.

---

The flashback dissolved, but the feelings lingered, settling uneasily in Kari’s chest. She rolled onto her side, staring at the faint glow of her alarm clock. The night felt too quiet, too heavy. There was no way she’d be able to sleep, not with everything that had been dredged up tonight.

She pushed back her covers and slipped out of bed, padding down the hall toward Skye’s room. She knocked lightly on the door, but before she could wait for an answer, she heard her sister’s voice from inside.

“Come in,” Skye said, sounding as restless as Kari felt.

Kari stepped inside, finding Skye sitting up in bed, her back against the headboard. Her expression was tight, her arms wrapped around her knees, and she looked over at Kari with tired eyes that mirrored her own.

“Can’t sleep either?” Skye asked, a humorless smile tugging at her lips.

Kari shook her head and leaned against the doorframe. “Not after that. I just... I keep thinking about everything. And I keep wondering if maybe we should give her a chance to say whatever it is she wants to say.”

Skye’s eyebrows knitted together, and she looked at Kari with surprise. “You want to talk to her? After all this time?”

“I don’t know,” Kari admitted, her voice small. “I don’t expect it to change anything. I don’t think she’ll suddenly become the mother we needed her to be. But maybe... maybe if we hear her out, we can put it behind us. Maybe we can get some kind of closure.”

Skye considered her sister’s words, the skepticism clear on her face. But after a moment, she let out a long breath and nodded. “Okay. Let’s try it. But I’m not expecting anything, Kari. Not a damn thing.”

Kari nodded, grateful for even this tentative agreement. And so, they reached out to their mother, setting up a time for her to come by the next day. Kari could hear the nervousness in Tommie’s voice when they spoke, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the small hope that this might help them move on.

---

The next evening, they sat in the living room, the air thick with tension. Skye and Kari sat side by side on the couch, their hands folded in their laps, while Tommie took the chair across from them. She seemed smaller somehow, like the years had worn her down, but she still wore that same familiar perfume. The faint smell of cigarettes lingered on her clothes, and Kari had to fight the urge to wrinkle her nose.

For a long time, no one spoke. Tommie fidgeted with her purse, glancing around the room as if searching for something familiar to cling to. Finally, she pulled out a bottle of wine from her bag, pouring herself a glass with shaky hands before taking a long sip. Skye and Kari exchanged a glance but said nothing, waiting for their mother to speak.

Tommie cleared her throat, trying to smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You girls... you remember the old house, don’t you? With the pink bedroom? You both used to love playing in there.”

Kari’s jaw tightened, and she felt a cold anger flare in her chest. “It wasn’t pink, Mom. It was purple. And yeah, I remember. I remember crying myself to sleep in there every night while you were out drinking. I remember holding Skye’s hand, trying to keep her from hearing all the yelling from the other room.”

Tommie’s face paled, and she looked down at her glass, her fingers trembling slightly. “I... I didn’t know it was that bad, Kari. I thought... I thought I was doing the best I could.”

Kari’s voice was sharp, but there was a tremor underneath it, a vulnerability that she hated showing. “You didn’t know because you were never around to see it. You left us, over and over, for your own escapes. And now you’re here, thinking you can just walk back into our lives and talk about pink bedrooms like it changes anything?”

Skye placed a hand on Kari’s arm, a silent reminder to steady herself, but she could see the anger burning in her sister’s eyes too. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation; they both knew that.

Tommie looked up at them, and for the first time, there was a crack in her carefully maintained composure. Her eyes glistened, and she set the wine glass down with a shaky hand. “I know I hurt you both. I know I was selfish. But I’ve been trying to change, to make things right. I just want a chance to be better.”

Kari let out a shaky breath, the words swirling in her mind, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe them. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t. But the years of pain and abandonment wouldn’t fade with a few words and a glass of wine.

She glanced at Skye, who met her gaze with the same mix of anger and uncertainty that roiled inside her. They weren’t sure where this conversation would lead, but for the first time in a long while, they were facing it together. And that, Kari thought, might be enough to take the first step toward finding the closure they’d both been longing for.