The thing she said that made the most difference, however, was when she told me, “Understand that there’s nothing wrong with you, and that it isn’t your fault.”
Before I heard that, there’d been a sharp sliver at the heart of me, constant pain and shame, because I just couldn’t be normal. I wasn’t trying for that anymore; I just wanted to be happy.
When my mom asked me to go with her to a work thing because Stuart was at a conference in Lincoln, I said no problem. I didn’t know many of her coworkers and I could remember a time, not too long ago, when I’d be hunched over in a bathroom, horrified by the idea of meeting so many people, making small talk, dealing with their looks and wondering if they could tell there was something wrong with me. Tonight, I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I was okay, stronger, like I’d hoped.
“Thanks for coming along last minute. I know you prefer to have some mental prep time for stuff like this.” Mom looked beautiful in a fitted blue dress, wearing a lapis lazuli necklace Stuart had bought for her in Hawaii.
“It’s fine. I’m doing better.” Before, I never would’ve said that, never would’ve admitted to her that there was a problem. I’d have deflected with a joke and changed the subject. To me, it felt like progress. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you snap out of it?”
“The depression?” She fumbled the keys for a few seconds.
“Yeah.”
We never really talked about things like this. Like Avery and Jillian, we had more of a don’t-ask, don’t-tell policy. So I thought maybe she wouldn’t answer because she got in the car and after a few seconds, I did the same.
But as she put it into Reverse, she said, “I got help. It’s not something I enjoy admitting, the fact that I didn’t have the energy to do anything. Or that I was thinking maybe the world would be better off without me. But I couldn’t go on like I was. It took me a while before I didn’t feel like there must be something seriously wrong with me because I couldn’t pull myself up by my bootstraps and snap out of it. Some people can. I wasn’t one of them.”
“I’m seeing someone, too.”
“I thought you might be. But it would be hypocritical of me to make you talk when I don’t. So we muddle along.”
I thought about that as she drove to the retirement dinner. A senior staffer was retiring after forty years of service, so the company was throwing a party to honor him. For me, it was such a welcome change not to have the whispers in the back of my head about everything that could go wrong. That wasn’t to say they were gone for good, but I knew how to manage them better now.
“Maybe we should try harder...to be honest with each other.”
“Maybe. It’s hard to know where to start. Possibly with Rob?” She cut me a look as she parked, and I didn’t bother to hide my flinch.
His name still had the power to tie me in knots; though I didn’t regret sending him off to see what he could do in Toronto, I hated the fact that I’d hurt him, even more when I contemplated how much I still loved him. The pain was still sharp—nothing about it had faded, and matters weren’t improved by living in the house we’d restored together. I’d never told my mom the whole story, only that he got a job out of town, and we were done.
So instead of the usual chitchat over dinner, I told her everything, including what I’d done and why. She’d obviously been taking communication lessons from whoever she was talking to professionally because she didn’t tell me I was stupid or that I didn’t have the right to make that decision for him. Because the thing was, if Rob hadn’t wanted to go, deep down, he never would’ve let me drive him away. I knew how stubborn he could be. So I stepped into the villain’s shoes and gave him a way to go without feeling bad for leaving me behind. Which sucked for me, but I didn’t doubt it was right for him, even now.
“Do you miss him?” she asked.
“Every day. At this point, I’m used to it. But...in a way, I was using him as a crutch, hiding from life. Running home was an avoidance tactic, not a coping one, and I was really in no shape to sustain a relationship.”
“I’m glad you said it.” She offered a half smile and raised her wineglass. “But you’re into your third semester here, making excellent grades, still working at the dealership, no problems living on your own. That’s fantastic.”
I sighed. “I don’t need you to pat me on the head, Mom. Verbally or otherwise.”
“Then why are we having this serious talk?”
Leaning over, I whispered, “Because the people at our table are boring?”
She glanced around and conceded with a shrug. Before I could say anything else, the guest of honor appeared onstage and gave a rambling speech of thanks, wherein he reminisced about the old days and asked four times for someone named Connie. Then they gave him a gold watch and helped him down the steps.
“Huh. And to think Stuart missed all of this,” I muttered.
Dinner was decent, though, and we were out of the hall by nine. Mom dropped me off at the house—with Rob gone, I still didn’t think of it as home. Avery was still up, watching TV with Happy.
“Have you finished carousing already?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Is there rabble to rouse?”
“Not much, even on Saturday night. You grew up here, you know the drill.”
Nodding, I collapsed on the couch and kicked off my heels. “I did okay. No flares, no sweating, no nervous vomiting or heart palpitations. You?”
“No urges to trash cars or punch men who ogle me.” We fist-bumped, and then I got up.
“I’m making hot chocolate. Want some?”
“Sure.” Avery had gained a little weight since we started living together, maybe ten pounds. Before, she didn’t eat as a silent protest to her father, but since he’d rather have a compliant, starving daughter, he didn’t care about her food issues. She was working on that with Dr. Reid, too.
To celebrate another good day, I put marshmallows in the cocoa. We toasted and I sipped at it, watching the last of whatever movie this was, something violent, my definite preference. To look at me, you’d think I loved girlie films, but give me action or sci-fi any day. Once it ended, I stood up and stretched.
“Has Happy gone out recently?”
She considered, then shook her head. “Not since five or so.”
“I’m on it.”