Page 82 of From This Moment (After We Fall 4)
I swallowed more scotch. All the scotch.
“I don’t know what she said to you or whether she was right or wrong. But I do know that she loves you the way she wanted to be loved, and her children were her entire life. Are her entire life. Her validation.”
“I’ll have another,” I said to the bartender.
I went home for dinner.
My mother had made smothered pork chops, which I saw as a peace offering. I’d also had two drinks, so I was mellow, if cautious. The three of us sat at the table, my mother serving us all with a nervous smile on her face.
My parents talked easily about whatever—the weather, his retirement, friends, neighbors—but I stayed mostly silent. Even though I felt I understood her better, I still wanted an apology. A tough childhood didn’t mean you got a free pass to be mean to others.
After dinner, my dad retired to his chair in the great room, and I helped my mom with the dishes.
I wanted to open a dialogue between us, but I wasn’t sure how. Drew, help me out here.
As if my brother had heard, my mother broke the silence. “Are you still mad at me?”
“I don’t know,” I said, loading plates into the dishwasher.
“I upset you, and for that I’m sorry.” She spooned leftovers into a plastic container.
“Just for that?”
She snapped the lid on the container and took it to the fridge. “How can I be sorry for wanting the best for my son? For wanting to protect him?”
“You can’t,” I agreed. “But you said some hurtful things.”
She stuck the container in the fridge and shut it. “I’m sorry, Wes.”
I looked toward her. She was still facing the fridge.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she went on. “That’s the last thing I ever want to do.” She turned to face me, her expression terrified. “You’re all I have left.”
I exhaled, feeling the weight of being someone’s only hope settle heavily on my shoulders. “Mom, that’s not true.”
“It is,” she insisted, starting to cry. “All my life, I couldn’t wait to get married and have my own family. I was going to do everything right, give my children every advantage, make sure they never lacked for anything.”
“You did.”
“But I couldn’t save him.” She sobbed openly, and I couldn’t resist going to her, taking her in my arms. “I couldn’t save him and I miss him so much.”
My throat tightened as she wept, the second time tonight I’d comforted a crying woman. It was hard to measure a loss—which was greater, the loss of a twin, a child, a spouse? All of us had suffered so much. We had to help each other.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m not mad anymore.”
“Are you sure?” She pulled back and sniffed.
“I’m sure. Look, this is rough on us all. We need to find our way in a world without Drew, and it’s strange.”
“It is.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I think he’s just going to walk through the door, like he always did, his voice booming, his eyes so bright. Always laughing.”
But it’s only me, I thought, wondering if she, or Hannah, for that matter, was ever disappointed once the truth sank in.
“Oh, goodness.” She scooted around me and reached for a tissue from the box on the counter. “I’m sorry, darling. This is the last thing you need.”
I ran a hand through my hair, exhausted all of a sudden. “It’s fine, Mom.”
“You look so tired. You’re working too much.”
