Page 40 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
The word lands like a slap. Mistake. Me. I try to steel myself against the hurt, but it finds its way in.
“But I was drowning,” Mom says, gesturing sharply with one hand. “Just drowning. Working two jobs, never even finished high school, taking care of a whiny kid. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
I swallow hard. “I know it must have been difficult.”
“Difficult?” She barks out a laugh that makes several people turn to look at us. “It ruined my life. And then I ruined Mom’s retirement, too. She should have been relaxing, enjoying herself. Instead, she was chasing after some brat, working herself to death at that restaurant.”
Each word is a small cut, precise and painful. I want to defend myself, to point out that I never asked to be born. That Grandma had constantly told me how much she loved me. But the words stick in my throat.
Mom’s gaze drifts to where Uncle Peter stands talking with the minister, his arm around Aunt Charlene’s shoulders. “I guess you’ll start sponging off him next, unless you decide to grow up and stand on your own two feet.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” I hiss, keeping my voice low.
For a moment, something like regret flickers across her face, but it’s quickly replaced by that same hard bitterness. “You’re better off without me, trust me on that. I did you a favor.”
“Is that what helps you sleep at night?” The words escape before I can stop them.
Mom flinches as if I’d struck her. Then she straightens, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Why did you?” I ask, genuinely curious despite myself.
“She was my mother,” she says simply. Then she turns on her heel and walks away, weaving through the crowd toward the front door without saying goodbye to anyone else.
I stand frozen, trying to process what just happened. My throat feels tight, and there’s a pressure behind my eyes that threatens tears, but I refuse to cry. Not over her. Not again.
“You okay?” Rachel appears at my side, concern etched on her face. “I saw you talking to… her.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, then amend: “I will be fine.”
Rachel squeezes my arm. “What did she want?”
“To remind me I’m a burden and a mistake, mostly.” I try for a light tone, but my voice cracks.
Rachel’s face darkens. “That absolute—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I cut her off. “She’s gone. Again.”
“Good riddance,” Rachel mutters, but I can see the worry in her eyes. “Come on, let’s get some air.”
“No, I just need…I need a little time alone.” I tell her. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.
“Are you sure? We could…”
“Please,” I tell Rachel, walking away. “I just need a minute.”
I slip out the back door. Outside, Grandma’s garden is still bright with the last of the summer blooms. I sit on the steps of the back porch and stare blindly into the distance. And think.
I’m still there when Uncle Peter finds me a few minutes later. “Heard your mother had a few words with you.” He sits next to me on the steps.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Caitlin… whatever she told you, you know it’s not true, right? You’ve never been a burden, not to Mom and not to us. We love you, honey.”
“I know.” I whisper, convincing myself I believe it.
“Your mother…” he hesitates and then continues, “there was always someone else to blame for the problems in her life. Right from the time she was a kid. Everything was always someone else’s fault.”
He slips an arm around me and pulls me close. “Grandma adored you. And so do Charlene and I.”
