Nebraska Stars

Chapter Eighteen

She threw herself into my arms and clutched me so tightly I thought she might knock both of us over onto the grass. She was sobbing, her back heaving. She couldn't even speak. I looked over at Hank, who had stepped back and was watching us intently. Ben and Fiona were standing on the porch watching our reunion, too. Ben had a serious look on his face and Fiona was crying.  

"Mom?" I said, pulling out of the hug and trying to see her face. Her head was hung and she wouldn't look up at me. "Mom!" I said, more forcefully, shaking her a little and grabbing her chin, pulling it up so she'd have to meet my gaze. Her eyes were red and swollen. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her hair was matted to her forehead. She wasn't crying audibly anymore, but tears were still streaming down her face. I looked over at Hank, then at Ben and Fiona, silently asking for help, and for answers, but none of them made a move.  

"Mom, what's going on? Is everything ok?" Finally, Fiona descended the porch steps and came over to us, putting an arm around my mom and guiding her back toward the house, whispering in her ear the whole time. 

"Why don't you come with us, Mae? We just want to have a word with you," Fiona said, looking over her shoulder at me. I glanced at Hank, who was still frozen. I wished he would come over and grab my hand. Who cared if they found out about us? That secret didn't seem important at all now. But he just hung back and followed us as we walked inside, Fiona helping my mom along like she was an old woman who couldn't steady herself. 

Fiona told me to wait in the study, and when I walked in and sank down into the overstuffed armchair that had been my favorite spot to sit and read all summer, she shut the door behind me and I was alone with Ben's ticking desk clock. They found out we had sex, I thought. But no, my mom wouldn't be that upset about it, would she? I heard muffled voices through the wall but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Anger surged inside of me and I ran over to the door; my hand hovered over the knob. They were going to tell me RIGHT NOW what was going on. I had waited long enough. But I couldn't bring myself to open it, because on the other side of the door was the truth, and I didn't know if I wanted to face it, not if it made my mom cry like that. I felt like I was in one of those little rooms that are attached to hospital waiting areas, the rooms that they try to make homey with cheery lamps and more comfortable couches, the rooms that offer privacy for families whose loved ones are probably not going to make it. I was in the bad news room, I could feel it. I paced around, studying Ben's framed photos of storms. There was one of him and Fiona, standing on top of a bluff, the sky ominous behind them, billowing black clouds heading straight for them. He had his arm around her waist and they were both laughing. It could've been a honeymoon picture if not for the threat of imminent death. But then again, the threat of death, and the way they seemed to laugh in the face of it, their fearlessness, their happiness in spite of it, was what made the picture special. 

The door creaked open and I spun around to see Ben, Fiona, and my mom slipping in. Ben quietly closed the door and we all just stood there for a few long seconds. 

"Why don't you sit down, Mae?" Ben said, gesturing toward the armchair.  

"No, I think I'll stand," I said, my anger bubbling up again. I felt a tightness in my chest, like I had a rubber band inside me that was stretching and getting ready to snap in half. I narrowed my eyes at him, remembering the night of the festival when he came home drunk. Whatever they were about to tell me, he and Fiona had known for weeks.  

"Mom?" I said, turning to her. She was sitting on the edge of the armchair, looking slightly more put together now. Her hair had been brushed off her forehead and though her eyes were still swollen, she wasn't crying anymore. She had a mug of something hot in her hand, probably tea or coffee, but she wasn't drinking it. She was just holding it, like it wasn't even hers, like someone had given it to her to hold and she was waiting for them to come and reclaim it. She hadn't actually spoken a word to me yet. "Mom, this is ridiculous. Whatever is going on, just tell me. I can handle it. Are you and Alan getting a divorce? Is he going to jail? Are you taking him back? WHAT? God DAMN it!" I walked over and knelt down in front of her so we were face to face. She was completely expressionless, and her eyes were dead; she looked like she'd been drugged.