Page 63 of The Other Side
“What was your secret?” he threw the question back at me softly.
I chewed my lip nervously, debating how much I wanted to share. But Chance had been so vulnerable, it only felt fair to let him have a peek behind the wall that I kept built so high around my heart. Maybe a small part of me wanted to test him too. Would he judge me, like others before him?
“Growing up, I was responsible for a lot more than most kids my age were. My mom has always dealt with depression, and some years were better than others. But nobody knew how bad things were, because I was terrified that if they did, I’d be taken away from her, and I didn’t know what she’d do without me.” I folded over the table, resting my chin on the tops of my hands, but keeping my eye contact with Chance.
It was as if talking about my complicated relationship with my mother and everything I had gone through in my youth continued to physically exhaust me, even though it had been years since I’d been subjected to the worst of it.
Chance reached out, when I couldn’t with him, and rested his hand on my arm to comfort and encourage me.
“I had to get a job at fourteen, the second I was eligible for a work permit. I worked every hour I could get, bagging groceries for minimum wage, which was pennies back then, just to try to keep the electricity on. We got checks from the government, but they rarely stretched far enough to cover everything without my mom being able to hold down a job.”
Chance’s lips parted, as if he wanted to apologize, but he closed them and said nothing, letting us sit in a comfortable silence for a while.
“I almost didn’t go to college. I was worried she’d hurt herself. But she encouraged me to go. Despite it all, she was always supportive of everything I did; she did the best she could.” I bit my cheek, hating that I was always protecting her, even now. “When I left, I couldn’t afford to support her as much because I had to cover my own bills, so she got a reverse mortgage on the house. Those assholes are so predatory,” I spit.
Chance nodded in agreement.
“Every cent I get paid here that doesn’t go to pay off my mountainous student loans gets sent to the bank to pay them back for taking advantage of her at her weakest moment.” I closed my eyes. “The house is too big, and she really should sell it, but it’s all that’s left of my dad. I can’t take that away from her. She wouldn’t recover.”
Again the stillness surrounded us.
I opened my eyes to find Chance watching me, a melancholic expression upon his face. I wondered what he was thinking, so I asked him.
“What am I thinking?” he repeated. “That it’s a lot for someone so young to take on. That it must have been painful to try to work through the contradiction of loving your mother so deeply but feeling resentment for not getting to be a child and not having been taken care of the way a child ought to be.”
I let out a quiet sob. I had never had someone put it so eloquently before.
Chance leaned forward, his fingertip gently wiping away the tear that was trailing down my cheek. “You’re not alone, Violet.”
