Where the Wounds Bloom

Chapter Fifteen: Mommie.

As the tense silence stretched on, Tommie’s demeanor shifted. She took another sip of her wine, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked between Kari and Skye. Her voice took on an edge, the vulnerability slipping away. “You know, you girls never appreciated what I did for you. I worked two jobs. I put a roof over your heads. But all you remember is the times I messed up. You never think about how hard it was for me. You’ve always been so... ungrateful.”

Kari’s hands tightened into fists at her sides, but before she could respond, she felt Skye shift beside her, tension radiating from her sister’s frame. Skye’s face flushed with anger, and she finally snapped, her voice rising as she leaned forward in her chair.

“Ungrateful?” Skye’s voice was sharp, laced with disbelief and anger. “You left us, Mom. You’d disappear for days, sometimes weeks, and when you did come back, it was only to use the little money we had on more booze or to throw some party with your friends. We were just kids, trying to survive on our own because you couldn’t be bothered to stick around. And you have the nerve to call us ungrateful?”

Tommie’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find words. But Skye was far from done. She stood up, glaring down at her mother with a fury that had been buried for years.

“You want us to feel sorry for you, like you were the victim?” Skye’s voice shook with the weight of everything she’d held back. “You weren’t the one who cried herself to sleep at night, wondering why her own mother didn’t want to be around. You weren’t the one who had to hold Kari’s hand and promise her that we’d be okay, even though I didn’t believe it myself. You didn’t see what your disappearing acts did to us, how it tore us apart. So don’t you dare try to make this about you.”

Kari could see the tears welling up in Skye’s eyes, could hear the raw hurt in her voice. It struck a chord deep within her, but she knew she had to hold steady. She took a deep breath, standing up beside her sister, and faced their mother with a calmness that belied the storm inside her.

Tommie sat frozen, her expression a mix of indignation and something else—something that almost looked like guilt, but Kari didn’t trust it. She clutched her wine glass tightly, as if it could anchor her through the whirlwind of accusations, but the words hung heavy in the air, too real to ignore.

Kari took a step forward, her voice steady and cold. “Skye’s right. You can’t rewrite the past, Mom. And we’re done pretending that any of this was normal, or that it was okay. You made your choices, and you have to live with them. But we’re not going to let you make us feel guilty for the consequences of what you did.”

Tommie’s mouth trembled, and for a moment, it looked like she might argue, might lash out the way she always did. But then, something in her seemed to deflate, her shoulders sagging as she realized she wouldn’t find the sympathy she was looking for here. She set down her glass with a clink, her gaze darting between her daughters, and Kari could see the bitterness creeping back into her expression.

“Well, I guess I know where I stand,” she muttered, pushing herself to her feet. Her voice was laced with resentment, but there was a hollowness beneath it, as if she knew this confrontation hadn’t gone the way she’d hoped. “If you don’t want me around, then fine. You’ve always thought you were better off without me anyway.”

Kari felt her chest tighten, but she refused to let herself waver. She met her mother’s gaze head-on, her own expression unyielding. “We needed you, Mom. But we don’t need this. And if you can’t see that, then maybe it’s best you go. Don’t come back unless you’re ready to actually be honest—with us and with yourself.”

Tommie’s lips thinned into a tight line, but she didn’t argue. She simply turned and walked toward the door, her movements stiff with anger and pride. Skye followed her to the threshold, and for a moment, the three of them stood in a strained silence, the weight of all their unspoken words hanging between them. Then, without another word, Tommie stepped out into the night, the door closing behind her with a dull thud.

Kari and Skye stood in the entryway, listening to the fading sound of their mother’s footsteps, until the night settled into a thick, oppressive quiet. Kari let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her shoulders slumping as the tension drained out of her. There was a sense of relief in the air—freedom, almost—but it was tinged with a deep, aching sadness.

Kari turned to Skye, and the pain in her sister’s eyes mirrored her own. “Do you think we did the right thing?” Skye’s voice was quiet, and for the first time in a long while, she sounded uncertain, like the little girl Kari used to comfort late at night.

Kari swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “I don’t know, Skye. But I think... I think we did what we had to. We can’t keep hoping she’ll be someone she’s not. It hurts, but maybe this is how we start to heal. By facing the truth.”

Skye nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to ward off a chill. They stood there together, both of them feeling the sting of what they’d just lost—what they’d never truly had in the first place. But there was also a small, fragile sense of hope, a hope that maybe now, without the weight of the past hanging over them, they could finally begin to move forward.

They turned away from the door, heading back into the quiet of the house. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough to hold onto.