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Please notify me of any mistakes so that I can fix them!
You probably won't be seeing things from Maya's mother after this. I only used her narrative here because I wanted people to see what Maya does to people, and for you all to understand how Maya's mom feels. You might hear from her perspective once more after this.
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> Chapter Sixteen <
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Ruth Todd
My jaw nearly drops as I watch my daughter leave the room.
And just like that, it's over.
I stare at the now empty space where she had stood. Then comes the slam of her door, and my heart sinks. I shake my head, disappointed and hurt and confused, all at once.
The television show that my husband is watching from the living room has become hardly audible as her words ring in my ears. They sting.
As I turn around I gasp, taken by surprise as I nearly bump straight into my husband. His tall figure looms over me, smiling with some sort of proud look in his eyes.
"Ruth, you'll never believe the great news!" He exclaims, his arms wrapping themselves around my waist. His hands rest on my shoulder blades.
I remember when his hold was comforting and warm. Now I lay in bed at night, concerned about the ridiculous number of business trips he's taken in the past six months.
"Babe?"
I blink, looking up into his grey eyes. It only hurts to see them; Maya's eyes are the exact same. I take a deep breath. I clear my throat, shaking the thoughts from my head. "Sorry," I murmur. "What is it?"
He grins wide, just as he did when he was sixteen and playing on the football team. When they'd win, he would run to me and hug me, reeking of dirt and sweat, but still warm.
He looks young again. He sounds young. And here I am, feeling like someone who has dementia and can't think straight.
"My boss just texted," he begins. I lift a brow. Another business trip is all I can imagine.
He asked me the first three times, and after that, he went without anything besides a yellow sticky-note on the table for me when I woke up the following morning. My secret is that every last one of those notes is in my bottom drawer, alongside all the condoms that have probably expired.
"Oh?" I still have to tip my head up to see his eyes. Our height is one of our many differences.
"I got a promotion!" He lets out one of his excited man-giggles, and I feel my eyes rounding, my heart trying to lift itself. He stares at me, awaiting my equally excited response.
But I feel nothing.
Between ages ten and eighteen, I auditioned for five plays at our local theatre and didn't get into any of them. This is the one memory that keeps me from pretending I am overjoyed.
"Oh, honey, that's amazing." I smile, praying he doesn't notice that my lips are quivering. "I'm so proud."
He smiles and scoops me into his arms, holding me against his chest like he used to all those nights we spent curled on the couch watching movies until I dozed off. He'd carry me to our bedroom and hold me as he fell asleep, and when I woke up he'd be there, cradling me.
His embrace is the last thing I want. Maybe it's what I need, but how should I know?
He plants a delicate kiss on the space between my shoulder and my neck, setting my feet back on the ground. His hands are on my hips, his eyes against my own, a force of grey against light green, before he realizes that tears are spilling down my cheeks.
I think he notices it before I do. But the moment I feel them, I wipe my cheeks with my palm and shake my head.
"Jeremy, I'm fine--"
"Baby, what's wrong?" He sits down on one of the kitchen chairs and pulls me to sit on his lap. I fight against him, but he's still much stronger than me, so eventually I let go and allow myself to curl into a small, defenceless ball on his lap. "Talk to me." He frowns, trying to meet my eyes.
I refuse to see the grey hue of his own. So to avoid it, I push my face into his neck.
"Ruth, talk to me." He murmurs. I sniffle and try to stop my shoulders from jerking everywhere, silencing my sobs. I don't want Maya to hear me like this, and it isn't easy to avoid given that her bedroom is beside the dining room.
"Maya." I state. Jeremy leans his face to me, trying to hear my voice. "She... she's not herself, Jeremy..."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks. "Wait- did she have sex? Is she pregnant? Did a boy break her heart?" All of his fatherly concerns start spilling out at record speed.
I shake my head. "No, no, it's none of those." I sniffle before continuing. "Pregnant? Boys? Jeremy, she's a lesbian." I send him a glare, angry that he would forget.
His eyes widen and he gulps. "Yeah. Sorry." What type of father forgets his daughter is gay? "What about her, then?"
"She's just not the same," I explain shakily. "She doesn't talk as much as she used to. I used to know all of the school drama and now I know nothing." I sigh, swallowing another round of tears and trying to hold the rest of myself together.
"Then maybe a girl broke her heart." He suggests, acting like he knows this situation like the back of his hand. He doesn't have all the answers, but I'm fully aware he wishes he does. Those business trips surely didn't make him any smarter.
"I'd have known if there was a girl in the first place," I shake my head. "Do you think... do you think it's Georgia?"
He tenses, staring into the distance for what feels like forever. "I think she needs space."
Of course.
He's using the same excuse. The one that's gotten him out of every situation lately. Saying that we need space, or that he has paperwork. In reality, he just wants to plan more of those darned business trips.
He stands up, holding me so that I can do the same, standing in front of him.
"Just give her time, Ruth. She's a teenage girl. God only knows what she does with her spare time." He shrugs and starts walking back to the living room. "Heck, maybe she has too much spare time."
I stare after him. And here comes that feeling that can only be described as drowning. It's like I'm falling, but not one of the two people I live with can figure it out. None of my friends can understand what it feels like.
I inhale deeply, a shaky breath that only conquers half the tears trying to come out of my eyes.
And then it hits me.
What if I'm the reason?
What if all along, it's been my fault? Because I failed as a mother? As a wife?
Was there something at the beginning of my marriage I forgot? A paper we didn't sign because we married in such a hurry?
Did I miss something when Maya was conceived? Or maybe it was later, when she was born?
I feel helpless. Lost. Broken. Scared. Confused.
I feel like I'm drowning.
