19

Bianca

The next few days were a blur. Jager came home that first night and cooked up a storm for dinner. He laughed and teased, and I saw a lighter side of him I hadn’t seen since we were kids. I loved it. And I loved him. He was so patient with me. He gave me space when I wanted it, and comfort when I didn’t even know I needed it.

But later that week, after we’d returned from seeing a few properties with my realtor, he sat and stared at me across the kitchen table. His brow furrowed and his hands clasped in front of his face. I knew he had a question on his mind. “Just spit it out, Jager,” I laughed. “Your eyes are weighing heavy on me.”

“You’re probably going to tell me to fuck off and mind my own business, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

“All right. No promises, but go ahead.” I leaned back in my chair with a grin on my face.

“I think you should talk to your mother.”

The grin fell fast. “What?”

“Hear me out.”

“I’m trying to, but it’s hard right now.”

“You inspired me to talk to my brothers and get to the bottom of my guilt and anger. I think your issues with your brother stem from the issues with your mother.”

“I agree.”

“You do?”

“Yes. But there’s no fixing the issues with my mother. I’ve tried. She doesn’t listen.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, too. “Shit. I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized you’ve tried talking to her already.”

“I’ve tried so many times. She pretends to listen to me, but she’s only waiting for her turn to speak. It’s as though I’ve recited the encyclopedia to her instead of pouring out my heart.”

He nodded. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was. And so were the weeks afterward.” I closed my eyes, recalling the last time we spoke and how it turned into a shouting match quickly.

“Just forget I mentioned it, then.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t do it.

For the rest of the night, no matter how many TV shows Jager suggested or dessert places he recommended, I was in no mood for any of it. I just kept thinking… ‘What if this time was different?’ ‘What if I gave it one more try?’

I would shake off the notion and try to focus on what Jager was saying, but my mind wandered. Maybe I was different this time. Maybe I was ready.

I was washing my face before bed Wednesday night when I turned to Jager in the mirror. “I think I’m going to call my mother tomorrow.”

He stopped brushing his teeth and stared at me. Spitting the toothpaste from his mouth, he said, “All right. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. I should go alone. And unannounced. Last time, she had my sister there for reinforcements. I just want it to be the two of us this time.”

“Do you think surprising her like that is a good idea?”

“The way you asked that makes me think you don’t believe so.”

“Being surprised like that might make her standoffish.”

“Maybe.”

He put his arms around my waist and kissed my neck. “If at any point you don’t feel comfortable or feel attacked, get out of there.”

“She’s never raised her hand at me.”

“Emotional wounds can hurt as much as physical ones, and last longer. Trust me, I know.”

I kissed him. “I’m proud of how you’ve dealt with what’s happened in your past and for sharing it with me.”

He kissed me back, slowly, pressing my body against his naked torso.

“Do you know that you’ve slept the whole night these past few days?”

He nodded. “I did. I don’t want to put too much pressure on it, but I think it’s the sex.”

I laughed and playfully smacked his shoulder. “You know it’s not. It’s the talk with your brothers.”

He tilted his head. “And… the sex.”

I laughed harder this time. “Fine. It’s the great sex.”

“Thank you for calling it great.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

He grabbed my hand and put it between his legs. “Too late.”

And just like that, thoughts of my mother disappeared until the next day when I climbed into my car to pay her an unexpected visit.

It took a few extra minutes for the car to start this morning. There was frost on the roofs of the houses, but no snow yet. I rubbed my hands together as I waited for the car to warm up.

My phone rang. It was Jager. “Hey.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“I’m sure. But thank you.”

“What’s that sound?”

“What sound?”

“That screeching sound.”

“Oh. I think it’s the car. It’s been making funny noises lately, but they come and go.”

I nearly missed the exit to my old neighborhood. “I’ve got to go, Jager. I’ll see you at the office later.”

I hung up and concentrated on the road. It wasn’t that the streets were unfamiliar, but I hadn’t been down in this part of town in a very long time. I wished I could say it looked the same, but it looked run down. The economy had been tough the last few years, and this was always a working-class neighborhood.

I slowed down as I approached the red-bricked house down the street. Several shingles were broken and the peeling paint on the garage doors was visible from the street. My mother and father purchased the home brand new when they first married. My mother got to keep it in the divorce. My dad left us and never looked back. I wished I could ask him about it, but I hadn’t spoken to him since I was five years old.

My heart raced in my chest, beating so hard I thought it would break through my rib cage. I massaged it while taking long, deep breaths.

Calm down. She’s only a woman. Flesh and blood like me.

I knew she would be home at this hour. My mother never left the house before ten, even though she was up by seven. She took her time getting her hair and makeup on for the day. She worked the afternoon/evening shift at the grocery store for the past thirty years.

Fuck it. Just go.

I turned off the car and climbed out. My heels clicked on the concrete pathway leading to the house.

I think I’m going to throw up.

My stomach turned as I raised my hand to knock on her door.

Why did I come here again? I should just turn around and leave.

But I tightened my fist and knocked on the door instead.

As I crossed my arms, the breeze picked up outside, and a chill ran through my body. My teeth started to chatter, most likely from the cold, but if I was honest, a little from my nervousness, too.

Finally, someone unchained the lock from the other side of the door and my mother’s face appeared through the crack.

When she recognized me, she opened the door wider, but didn’t say a word.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

She looked behind me. “Is it just you?”

“Yes.”

She cleared her throat and opened the door. “What do you want?”

My heart beat so fast, I could hardly catch my breath. “I wanted to talk. Do you have some time?”

“I gotta work, but sure. Don’t you have work today?”

I took a couple of hours off this morning from work, but I didn’t think it was worth mentioning that to her. “Not this morning.”

“Fancy job, getting to pick your hours. I never get time off unless I schedule it weeks in advance.”

I ignored the jab and looked around. The brown furniture and burgundy carpet were all the same. It had been nearly ten years since I left, but at least thirty years since she bought them. There was a stuffy smell, but nothing strong. She never threw anything out, only brought new stuff in. There was a new China cabinet, adding to her three in the living room already. This one was just as full as the others with knickknacks, Royal Doulton dolls, and gifts to herself over the years. There was also a new armchair that didn’t match the other furniture, and I wondered if she could even recline it with so many other pieces of furniture around.

The clutter in the house always annoyed me, but today it was suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. I unbuttoned my coat.

“Are you staying long?” My fingers froze at my coat.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

“Oh really? What do you want, Bianca?”

I closed my eyes and tried to answer that question as honestly as I could. “I want to see if we can fix this rift between us.”

“I see. Well, you know what it will take to do that, but you’ve never wanted to do it before.”

My stomach tightened, and this time I was certain I would lose my breakfast. My mother wanted me to apologize for many things, including running out on her.

“We both made mistakes. I’m hoping we can move past them and start fresh.”

She laughed, but her face remained hard. “How convenient for you. You hurt me, Bianca, and I need you to apologize for it.”

“Mom, I’ve apologized already. Several times. Lisa was here. I don’t know if that’s really what we both need. I think we need to just make a conscious effort to move forward.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to let you back in without an apology. You left me and I was humiliated. What have I ever done to you to deserve such disrespect? Nothing.”

This was the bone of contention between us. In my mother’s mind, she had never done anything to hurt me. She called my upbringing strict, but I thought it was controlling. She said she had always been there for me, but I couldn’t recall ever receiving a hug or a kiss from my mother telling me it would be okay. That I had done enough. Whether it was at school or home, it was never enough. It was so difficult to pinpoint exactly what my mother had done to me that, in a way, I could almost understand her confusion. Exceptduring our last argument, she said I wasn’t contributing enough to the family and all the money I earned at my part-time job should go to her, just like my sister Lisa’s wages. I said no. She did not like that, and told me if I didn’t like her rules, I could get out. So, I did.

That was when her campaign of hate began. She told anyone who would listen how ungrateful I was. How I never contributed to the household, even though I was the one who bought groceries, paid our phone bill, and cooked dinner for the whole family every night while my mom was at work.

Could I have done more? Maybe. But it was never enough. So, I had to get out. And she had never forgiven me for leaving.

I took a deep breath. “At the time, I needed more from you. But I don’t anymore.” I understood what my mother was capable of giving and I’d decided it would have to be enough for me.

She ignored what I said and continued, “You felt nothing for me then. You didn’t even care that I was working a minimum wage job to raise a family all by myself. I never had any time for myself. I never went on dates. I never did anything for myself!”

Yes. I knew this. She reminded us of it every single day. Even though there was always a new Royal Doulton doll for herself in the cabinet. She always had new clothes and was the first to eat dinner before she left for work. But none of this would have mattered if I ever felt that my mother loved us. That she was leaving to go to work for us, and not for herself. It was hard to explain. I even felt guilty thinking about it now when she was the one who stayed to raise us when my father had left. I should be more grateful. It was the reason I was standing in her living room today.

“I know, Mom. That’s why I’m here. I want to start over.”

“Well, it won’t be easy for me to forgive what you’ve done.”

“Why? Why won’t it be easy? If you love me, that’s all I need to hear.”

“This isn’t about love, Bianca. It’s about respect. You disrespected me.”

I was trying. I really was. I was trying to understand her perspective and be patient because I had hurt her. But fuck! Would she ever care about how she made me feel?

“You hurt me too, Mom.”

“How, Bianca? How did I hurt you? Did I ever hit you? Lock you in your room? Do you know what my mother did to me? I never did anything like that to you.”

I inhaled sharply. “I know that. But I felt like you never loved me.”

My eyes welled up and I couldn’t believe I’d finally said it to her. My heart exploded at the truth, and I waited for her to reach across the living room and reassure me that it wasn’t true.

“Are you kidding me? That was your problem? Oh, for fuck's sake. You’re too spoiled, that’s the real problem. You had it easy your whole life. Even when you left and I warned River not to help you. He did.”

“I would have ended up on the street. Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes. You needed to know what it felt like to be completely on your own. To know what it’s like to suffer like I did. Then you’d realize what I’ve sacrificed and crawl back to me on your belly, begging for forgiveness.”

The room fell silent. The only sound was my heart beating in my chest and the blood rushing through my ears. I tried to wrap my mind around her words, but it was as though my brain wouldn’t let me process them. They were too cruel, too malicious.

My body shook. “You may have never slapped me, but your words have always cut me to the core.”

“Oh, please—”

I put my hand up. “No. It’s my turn to talk and you will listen. This is what I can’t handle. Your vitriol. You want to continuously punish me, break me so that I will understand you. But I could never understand you. I can never understand how a mother would want to see their child suffer if they could end that suffering. I could never understand how you’re incapable of telling me you love me or care about me or fucking don’t want to see me crawling on my belly through the streets. I wouldn’t want to see anyone in that kind of despair, but you wish it on your child to satisfy your ego.”

My chest rose and fell, and I thought my heart would break through my ribs. But I wasn’t finished.

“I didn’t know what I would say today or how things would turn out. But I should have known that it doesn’t matter how badly I want things to change. They won’t until both of us do.”

“I don’t need therapy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I don’t know what I’m asking anymore. I don’t know what I want from you. But I don’t want this.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her face contorted into an ugly snarl. I would never forget that look as long as I lived.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Her face remained blank, and she was right to be cautious. “I want to thank you for giving me clarity. For helping me put into words how you’ve hurt me. And before you say anything else,” I raised my hand again to stop her, “know that it will fall on deaf ears. I will not allow your words to trouble me anymore. I will not replay this conversation over and over in my head, wondering if I could have said something differently, apologized for the tenth time, or said I love you first. It won’t matter because I will never be a priority for you. And I’ve finally realized that. As much as it hurts, it will help me move on.”

A red blush rose from her neck to her cheeks. “You are so selfish,” she spat. “All you care about is yourself. You just abandon your family when things get tough. How was I supposed to do it on my own, huh? If I made mistakes, it’s not my fault. I did my best.”

I nodded. “I’m gonna go or we’ll just continue to hurt each other with our words. I don’t like who I am around you and I think I bring out the worst in you, too.”

“You’re just like your father,” she snarled. “Go on, run away.”

It hit me, then. I reminded her of him the most. It should have made me feel better that I was erroneously blamed, but it didn’t. “At least now I know why you hate me so much.”

“I hate what you’ve become.”

“Goodbye, Mom. Take care of yourself.”

I buttoned my coat to the top and walked out the front door. She slammed it behind me, and I jumped from the sound. My heart was still racing, and a headache formed at my temples. I knew the tears were about to fall but I prayed to God I could hold them back until I was far away from this place. I would not let her see me cry. I would not give her the satisfaction of knowing she finally broke me.

But she did.

I’d only ever wanted her love—her unconditional love—not because I’d cooked dinner or finished some chore she’d asked me to do, but because I was hers and she would want to protect me at all costs.

Fuck . This hurt so much.

I pulled over when the tears started falling on the freeway. My chest felt as though it was tearing itself apart.

I parked the car on the side of the road and dropped my head onto the steering wheel. My shoulders shook as I sobbed and sobbed until my voice cracked and spittle formed at the sides of my mouth.

It hurt so damn much.

I had wanted to heal this hole in my heart that I’ve had since I was a teenager. I thought I could ignore it, but that hadn’t worked. I thought talking it out with her would help, but it made it worse. I didn’t know how to deal with this anymore. Maybe therapy wasn’t right for my mom, but it could help me. I pulled out my phone and started searching. So many listings came up, I didn’t know where to begin. I typed ‘help with issues with my mom’ and a bunch of names came up with a specialty in family therapy. I chose one and booked an online appointment for this week. I couldn’t do this on my own anymore. I wanted to be better for myself and the people in my life. I thought of Jager and how I didn’t want my issues to mess up what we had right now. I would fight for myself and my happiness anyway I knew how.

I would fight for love—especially when it was me I needed to love and forgive first.