“I’ve been hoping for this day.” She said, her eyes searching mine for a response.
“Really?” My words sounded bitter and full of disbelief.
“You sound like a man.” She smiled again, this time her confidence was noticeably wavering.
“As opposed to the little boy you left behind?” I stared back at her with a straight face.
“It wasn’t easy.” I looked down and noticed her hands were trembling.
“Sure.” I looked away then, somehow able to break her gaze. My eyes caught those of Clementine’s. She was staring at me with an expression full of love and hope. She wanted this to go well. She wanted me to get my happy ever after with my mother. I could read it in her eyes. I could hear it in her brain. It was all she’d ever wanted for me. I wanted to walk away and never look back again, but I knew that Clementine wanted me to give my mother a chance. “So where have you been?” I turned back to my mother and asked her a question. Even though I was no longer looking at Clemmie, I knew that she was smiling, happy I was making an effort.
“I kinda lost it when your dad cheated.” My mom’s face looked like a little kid. “I went to a house…” Her voice trailed off.
“To drink?”
“Among other things.” She nodded, her eyes wide. “But I got sober.”
“You’re sober?”
“I went to AA. And a man friend of mine, he paid for rehab.” She touched her lips and then licked them furtively. “He wanted me clean.”
“A boyfriend?”
“No, he wasn’t a boyfriend.” She shook her head and her eyes widened again. “So I went to rehab. They got me off the coke.” She nodded and smiled at me again, as if waiting for praise.
“That’s good.” I bit my lower lip and tried to remain calm, but I was starting to feel sick inside.
“I haven’t taken any drugs in a long time.”
“That’s really good, Mrs. Madison.” Clementine walked over to us and gave me a smile. “That shows you’ve really been trying.”
“I wanted to see you.” My mom looked at me and I could see a glimmer of some unknown emotion in her expression. “You were always my little boy. You loved me so much.”
“Most sons love their moms.”
“My blue eyed boy.” She gazed at me and patted my hair. “I thought once I had my blue eyed boy, my life would be perfect.” She paused and sighed. “It didn’t stop your dad from straying though.”
“You should have left him.”
“I just wanted him to love me.” She looked at Clementine then. “You know how it is. You just want them to love you. To see how perfect you are. To know that there is no one for them but you. But they just don’t see it. They’ll never see it. Don’t waste your time like I did. Don’t be a fool.”
“What are you talking about?” My voice was high and angry as I spoke to my mom. “Don’t try and project your life onto Clementine’s. Clementine is not a drunk.”
“It’s okay, Rhett.” Clementine touched my arm and shook her head.
“It’s not okay.” I said angrily, a volcano bubbling in my stomach as I looked back at my mom.
“You’re mad at me.” My mom’s eyes narrowed and I saw her lips trembling. “Don’t be mad at me, Rhett. I didn’t mean to…” She paused and took a big gulp. “I always loved my blue eyed boy.”
“Really? From what I can see you only loved dad.”
“Does he ever talk about me?” She asked hopefully.
“No.” I said it emphatically. “No.” I said it again, wanting the rejection to sting her as her leaving me had stung me.
“At least I have you.” She reached out and touched my arm. “You came to see your old momma.”
“What happened to you?” This time my words were as sincere as the pain in my heart.
“Do you really want to know?” Her eyes focused then and she looked lucid. “It’s not a nice story.”
“I want to know.” I nodded.
“Do you have any money?” She asked softly and then looked at Clementine. “It’s just I ran out and I really need a bottle of…” She stopped and played with her fingers. “It will help me tell the story.” I felt Clementine tense up next to me. I knew, just as she knew, that my mother wasn’t clean, not at all. I didn’t even respond then. I walked straight to my car and got into the driver’s side and started the engine. I put the car into reverse and was ready to leave, with or without Clementine. I heard her tapping on the window as I stopped and I waited for her to get into the car and then pulled off again. We drove in silence for about five minutes and then she spoke.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t to know.” I didn’t look at her. I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I didn’t care. The pounding of my heart felt like the constant downpour of rain against a bedroom window. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, pitter, patter. It was continuous and non-stopping and I didn’t mind because it stopped me from thinking too hard.
“I thought it would help you.” She sighed and I heard her voice catch. “I wanted you to get answers. I wanted you to understand why…” She stopped. “Love isn’t always a bad thing.”
“It’s isn’t always a good thing, either.” I grimaced. “Love means seeing what you can get from someone. It’s never about doing what you can for the other person just because, it’s always about doing something for the other person and hope you repay them for whatever you did.”
“It’s not always…” She began and I cut her off.
“It’s about loving someone so much that you hope they repay you with gifts or money, or even more love back. When people say love is selfless, it’s a crock of shit. People love because it makes them feel good because they get something from it. People who don’t believe in love are more honest. They are letting you know straight up. I want this or I want that. No bullshitting. No, I love you, so please give me your virginity. Or I love you, lend me $10,000. Or, better yet, I love you so take care of me now I’m sick. Take care of me now I’m an alcoholic or a cheater or a f**king bitch.” My voice rose as I shouted. “I don’t say I love you because I don’t mean it. When I tell someone, I want something, it’s true and it’s valid and it’s not because I want anything other than what I want.”