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Ch. 23

I lived my whole life waiting for something close to a loving home environment. Some sliver of what they had. It was so close to my fingertips that I could feel the fringes of the fabric of life. My own true piece, one stitched just for me. So close I could taste the homemade recipes that were passed down from generations. And hear the anecdotes of long dead grandparents, or fun uncles. So Close.

—————*pb*—————
Who knew that life could be so rosy?
Who knew why they really needed a pocket full of posies?
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It had been two weeks since I had gotten the test results back. Two weeks I couldn't bring myself to open them.

I had spent a couple of days with Sheila after sending in for them, and she had stopped accidentally calling me Carly.

We baked cakes and made dinner, listened to Karen throw things in the basement to loud music. She had stopped calling me Carly.

I went on walks with her, a few steps farther every time with my encouragement. And she had stopped calling me Carly.

I never thought I would miss something that I never truly had but I did. That moment of recognition that I had once been hers, that I had been a crucial part of her life. It was comforting. But she had stopped calling me Carly.

I couldn't bring myself to open them and whenever she would ask I would say that I hadn't gotten them. That it was so weird because I had heard it never took this long before.

"Lyd." He said with his big blue eyes chasing mine. "You have to open them."

"What if we're wrong? What if—"

"What if she's not your mom?" He asked. I stared at my toes for a minute. Gently he lifted my face and held my gaze.

"If she's not, fuck it."

"Fuck it?" I asked incredulously. "What do you mean, fuck it?!"

"I mean. Fuck. It. So what if she isn't your mom? I know you want her to be. I want that for you too. But, who you come from doesn't have anything over who you are. I mean, look at me! I'm Frank fucking Gallagher's kid! Who they are doesn't define us. You don't need them to be yourself."

I stared at him before sighing. "You're right. I know you are. I just... something tells me that I'm wrong. And if I'm wrong I just... I will have killed part of this woman. Part that she's just getting back."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Lip if I'm wrong, I may have fucked up her life. Hers and Karen's."

"Baby, their life is already fucked up. As I see it right now, you have helped that woman more than any fucking therapist could."

"That's not—"

"Yes it is. It's true. Not even Karen will get out and walk with her. She doesn't want to cook with her, she doesn't even try. You are breaking her out of her shell. And she deserves to know the results, just like you do."

It was odd, the house that always seemed a mite too small felt huge in that moment. It felt like the letter waiting on the desk on the other side of Lip's room was miles away.

"Will you do it?" I asked him. He took a deep breath, searching my face. Trying to gauge how badly I needed someone else to tell me, and he stood. The second or two it took him to reach the letter felt like minutes. Then all too quickly he was back by my side.

The tearing of the envelope sounded so loud in my ears I was worried it would wake Liam, who was asleep in Debbie's room. The rustle of the paper as he unfolded it sounded like a harsh wind passing the windows of the house and all I could do was take deep gulps of air.