Page 184 of Break Away
I opened my eyes.
She continued before I could speak. “You don’t have to show up at her door with a miracle. You don’t have to forgive everything tonight. You don’t have to be healed before you speak. You do have to be honest without being cruel. That is the part grown men struggle with when they think anger makes them safer.”
I looked toward the window. Rain blurred the weak streetlight outside until the world looked smeared. “What do I say?”
“The truth.”
“That narrows nothing.”
A tiny laugh warmed her voice. “Tell her forgiveness isn’t the clean line you thought it was. Tell her you are angry. Tell her you love her. Tell her you need to know whether the two of you are willing to rebuild trust without using sex, silence, jealousy,or cruelty as weapons. Tell her acceptance scares you because it means living with the truth instead of punching at shadows.”
I swallowed. “That sounds like a speech.”
“It is. Mothers get one free script per crisis.”
“You’ve had more than one.”
“I am very good at motherhood and poor at rationing.”
A laugh broke out of me, tired and rough.
Her voice softened. “Easton, listen to me. You are not your father.”
The laugh died.
“Mom.”
“No, you need to hear it. You are not your father. You are not the girls’ father. You are their brother. You are my son. As much as I love how you show up for us, as much as I know your dad would be proud of the man you are trying to be, you have been carrying too much that was never yours to carry.”
My throat closed.
“I have Vivi,” she said. “I have Skylar. I have the bills. I have the house. Maybe I’m tired. Maybe it’s hard. Maybe I cry in the laundry room sometimes because the dryer makes a sound your father used to fix and I hate calling someone else. But I have it, Easton.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“No, I shouldn’t. Neither should you.”
I pressed the phone harder against my ear.
“You send money home and act like breathing is selfish,” she said. “You work until your body is held together by tape and stubbornness. You take every problem in this family and shove it onto your back like if you bend low enough, the girls won’t notice the weight. They notice. I notice. And I love you more than I love what you can provide.”
My breathing went uneven. “I don’t know how to put it down.”
“I know.”
That hurt worse than if she had told me to try harder.
“I think Aura was the only place I ever put it down,” I said, the words escaping before I could decide whether they were too much. “And then she made me feel stupid for needing that.”
My mother was quiet long enough for the rain to fill the line.
“Then tell her that,” she said. “Not as a weapon. As the truth.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.
“And Easton?”
“Yeah?”
