14. Lacy
14
LACY
I see Mom crowding around the laptop, finishing up her online consultation with Melody. The amazing specialist from LA and Hudson’s former sister-in-law. I joined quickly at the start to say hello, asking her a few questions about it all, before I left Mom to talk privately. She’s stunning. Connor’s words from earlier in the week ring in my mind, about how she looks identical to Hudson's late wife, and again the stab of jealousy in my gut rises. Like I conjured him, my cell vibrates with a text from Hudson.
I enjoyed seeing you at the office the other night. Hopefully no more rose thorns have found their way into your hands?
My lips twitch as I look at the message. Just as I’m about to reply, I pause. I can’t. I shouldn’t entertain it. Instead, I push my cell to the end of the counter and start scrubbing the sink, the dishes from today already done, but the need to do something with my hands even greater.
“All done, dear,” Mom hollers as she walks into the kitchen. She’s looking so good lately. Becoming more independent. I like these days and weeks. The ones when she isn’t tired or nauseous. It feels almost like how a normal family would be. Ones that aren’t plagued by sickness. But I don’t really know that reality.
“Great. How did it go?” I ask. We share everything, Mom and I, but it’s her medical situation, and I need to be mindful that she gets the privacy she needs.
“It all sounds fine. She looked over my file and talked to Hudson. She seems to think that we’re doing everything we can at the moment. She wanted to run some updated blood tests and things, which I will get sorted for her today or tomorrow,” Mom says, and I nod, admiring how she can be poked and prodded so much. It would drive me mad.
“Okay…” I say cautiously. I don’t want to get too excited.
“She’s flying in to talk with us face-to-face, hopefully next week,” Mom says, and I nod as I take in all the information. “Lacy, honey. Remission is great; it’s what we have been striving for, but we know there’s no cure…”
“I know.” I nod as my eyes start to water, sniffling, trying to act like the mature adult I need to be, yet feeling like the young girl who doesn’t want to lose her mom.
“We have known about this for a long time. I have lived well beyond what any doctor has ever said,” she reiterates, and I hate this conversation. We have it regularly. Like a reminder to us both that we are on borrowed time .
“I know,” I say, not able to form any other words.
“That’s why I’m open to trying anything and everything. For you, sweetheart. For us. But at some point, I know that there will be nothing left to try, and I’m at peace with that. You and me always, right?” Mom grips my hand on the kitchen counter where I rest mine.
“You and me always, Mom… but it doesn’t make it any easier,” I murmur as I swallow back another wave of tears.
“No, maybe not. But seeing you flourish at work and smiling and happy is what really brings me joy,” she says, and I give her a tight-lipped smile.
“I need to go to New York for a week,” I tell her, watching her to gauge her reaction.
“That’s fantastic! The city that never sleeps. Hopefully, you have just as nice a time as you did on the last trip there. Ohhh, you might meet a handsome man…” she coos, and I huff a laugh as I quickly brush away a stray tear that fell before she can see.
“Well, I’ll be researching day spas and treatments so I’m not sure how many men hang around those places.” Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together.
“What about at nighttime… you can maybe meet a man at a bar or something. Or maybe… Hudson can meet you there? Show you around the city a little more? I’m sure he knows some nice places to go,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows at me, and I roll my eyes. I feel my cheeks heat at her comment, my lips still tingling from our kiss at my office.
“So you will be okay if I go?” I ask her, my body feeling weary, not wanting to entertain her about Hudson. My mind is a swirling mess about him enough as it is.
“Of course. I feel great at the moment, and I have the support of many friends. The last thing I want is you saying no to opportunities because you think you should be here. Go, Lacy. Go and see the world. As I said, maybe Hudson—”
“You are clearly reading too many romance novels,” I mumble.
“Oh, just imagine if he swept you off your feet!” I look at her, deadpan, and see that she’s almost glowing with excitement.
“Not going to happen, Mom. But I promise that I will thoroughly enjoy the spa treatments and be nice and relaxed when I get back.”
“Just promise me that you won’t hold back on finding love, Lacy. Not on my account. Life is too short. We both know that.” she says, squeezing my hand again, and I nod as I swallow down the bile that rises. I remain quiet, not able to promise her anything.
My shoulders lower slightly as she shuffles across the kitchen to put something in the trash as I finish what I was doing at the sink.
“Lacy, what is this?” she asks, and I look up, smiling, before I start to feel sick.
“Oh. Nothing. Just something from college. Junk mail.” Walking toward her, I grab the letter I discarded earlier so she can’t read it. But I’m not quick enough.
“It’s a letter inviting you back…” she trails off, frowning as she reads it. “You didn’t pass?” Her face is laced with concern, and I hold my breath .
“I passed. I passed every subject with flying colors… I just didn’t pass it with him,” I start to tell her. Because I did. I passed with an A average in every single subject.
“Except… statistics?”
My palms start to sweat, and I grab the letter from her hands and scrunch it up. Every month or so, he sends a letter. It’s all formal, of course, all aboveboard, just like the text messages and the emails, all inviting me to repeat the very subject he teaches. Offering additional support to help me, saying that being in a classroom offers more to students than the online option I chose. He keeps them professional, not doing anything in writing that may link back to his behavior.
“Lacy? Please explain it to me.” My mom’s voice has changed. She knows I’m lying, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling her anything about this.
“It’s fine, Mom. Please, don’t worry. I passed. I graduated. I completed my studies and got my degree. I just did the statistics part here at home remotely with an alternative professor when I came back early,” I tell her, putting the lid back on the trash can and going over to the sink, wiping it down like a madwoman.
“So why is the professor inviting you back to complete it at a summer school program? The letter said that you are a star student who he would take great delight in having back for the summer,” she questions, and my body shivers at the words. Because he is infatuated with me . The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back.
“I think he prefers his students to do the class face-to-face. You know, one of those old-school thinkers who believe that, even though I covered the same topics and same workload remotely, I didn’t fully benefit from his teachings,” I explain, because that is the only thing I can say that won’t have her in tears and calling the police immediately. I don’t need that stress in my life.
“Sounds a bit odd,” Mom says, walking back to the dining table and taking a seat.
“It is. His office sends a letter every month or so. I have a feeling it might be tied to his bonus system within payroll or something.” I huff a laugh, trying to make light of the situation and position the letters so she understands what they are about if she ever sees another one.
“Oh, of course, that makes sense. Like they don’t already earn enough.” She huffs, pulling out her knitting that she started this morning. Making a new scarf for the winter already. I run my hands under the cool water in the sink as I take in a few deep breaths.
Those letters have been coming for months. Each one more persistent than the last. Then there are the emails, the text messages. There’s no point changing my number because I have a work cell, the number clear on our website, as is my email. Anyone just has to search online and they find my contact details.
I try not to think about it all. He’s a man of power and status, and I’m a young woman from a small town without many means. I’m not foolish enough to think that I would win in the situation if I was to go public. I swallow roughly as I think about the last time I saw him. When he locked me in his office under the guise of a meeting. The look on his face will haunt me forever.