Chapter 26 #2
“I can’t stop, Saylor, because you’re my daughter.
And as your mother, my job is to want more for you than I’ve had.
I want better for you. I’ve worked hard so you can have any dreams you want.
Don’t limit them!” Her face is red, and I know she’s flustered by me.
I’ve never been like her, and she can’t understand that.
I’m not suddenly going to change personalities, either.
“Mom, social work is my dream. Making an impact on a human being’s existence, even if it’s one at a time, on a molecular level, is what I want to spend my time on earth doing.
It’s not a waste to me in the least. If anything, it’s the most valuable thing I can give and get in return.
I’ve never felt more certain of my path in my life.
” I hold her stare, stomaching the shades of disappointment that weigh down her face.
I need to pivot now, though. I’ve gotten her worked up, so it’s the perfect time to draw her into new conversations.
“You sound just like your dad,” she mutters, and I breathe out a soft laugh. She made the pivot for me.
“I saw him this weekend. Did you know he was in town?” She’s aware. I know she is because he plans to meet with her later today or tomorrow.
“I had heard.” Her expression is blank, her words careful and matter of fact.
“I went to his show. The band is good. Even you might like their music,” I joke.
She lets out a genuine laugh and shakes her head.
“I doubt that,” she says.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I lean into the table and tap my fingers along the slick surface, as if I’m playing a piano. I lift my gaze in time to catch the suspicion in her eyes.
“Did you sleep with David because you loved him or because you wanted to get ahead?” I can tell by the slight flinch in her features that she wasn’t prepared for me to be so blunt. I’m sure she wonders how long I’ve known.
“Saylor, this is an adult conversation, and it’s very nuanced. There are things you don’t know, don’t understand.”
I suck in my lower lip and lean back a hair, breathing in.
“Well, first, I am an adult. So, we can take that barricade off the table. And second, I genuinely want to know. Did you blow up our family over love or for your career? Because I can see one more than the other for you, and it’s not the emotional connection one would normally expect.
” I level her with a hard glare that doesn’t let up, even when she shakes her head and mutters something about nonsense.
“That’s why dad left, right? Because you cheated.
And I am adult enough to understand that perhaps the two of you would have split eventually without the affair.
I’m sure you had your reasons to stray, and I’m sure part of him was already out the door.
You’re different people—wildly different people.
And I’m not real proud of either of you, to be honest. But you have always, at the very least, portrayed an air of decorum.
Professionalism above all else, isn’t that right? ”
“Saylor.” She keeps saying my name as if I’m a toddler about to get a timeout.
“So, it was a professional move then, is that the case? And is it still happening? Are you fucking your boss still? Your married boss?” I’m crass on purpose.
I use those words because I know they’ll push her buttons.
She doesn’t speak that way, at least not for anyone of consequence to hear.
Her cheeks are getting redder by the second, too.
“Saylor—”
“Allison.” I mock her, and maybe that’s childish, but it’s the right move.
“Gah! No, okay? It’s not still going on. It wasn’t a long affair. It was . . . a lapse in judgement. I was lonely, perhaps. Maybe sorting out some anxiety. I made a mistake, and it was dealt with.”
I chuckle.
“Dealt with,” I mumble.
“You have advice on the topic? Hmm? By all means, do share.” She waves her hand across the expanse of the table, an invitation for me to attack her.
Normally, I’d back down at this point. But I’m not intimidated anymore.
I’m no longer afraid of disappointing her or losing her support or money.
By the time today’s done, she may be broke anyhow.
“You lost your marriage. You made a choice. And rather than examining what it all truly meant, which it’s clear by your own words how you never did the work to unpack why you strayed, you instead dove headfirst into managing everything.
Including me. And I’ve got news for you, Mom.
That meeting Dad is trying to set up with you?
He plans to dig up those skeletons and deal with them—financially. ”
Her eyes dim the second money comes into the picture. The way her shoulders tick up, too, is a clear sign that I’ve hit a nerve. Her financial worth and her status are important to her. Now’s the time.
I lean to one side to access my back pocket, and as I unfold the paper above the table, my mother’s gaze shifts from curious to terrified in the matter of a second.
“Where did you get that?” she asks, reaching for it. I pull it away and waggle a finger.
“Ah ah, I’ll keep this. And there are copies.” I meet her frozen eyes, her features still, and jaw flexed. I think she may crack most of her teeth if she clenches that hard for much longer.
“I didn’t realize you had changed jobs, that you were now doing PR for . . . AirTek? Is that the company?” I glance at the paper then back up again, and I find her expression unchanged.
“Saylor, you’re out of your element now. Honey, I need that back.” It’s clear she’s panicked.
“Yeah, I’m sure you do. I mean, you probably need to send this out after making all those trades this morning. How much did you buy in AirTek? How much did David?”
She licks her lips and opens her mouth to find zero words ready to come out. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen this side of my mom, and I almost feel bad. But I know this glimpse of her is only happening because she’s scared of getting caught.
“Did you do this to get ahead? Or was this because you love David? Was it simply a moment of anxiety, a lapse in judgement? How many of these have you done for him?”
“Saylor—” she blurts my name, lunging forward and managing to snag a corner of the paper. She rips it where I’d taped it from already tearing it myself last night.
“Why?” I shake my head and stare at her down-turned gaze, waiting for her to face the truth, to face me. Her eyes flit up eventually, and she’s morphed from the frightened accomplice back into the woman who is always—always—right.
“How do you think we paid for your private schooling? Huh? Do you think that was simply my single salary? Do you think David gave away a fifty-thousand-dollar tuition year after year for free? No! Of course not! I had to earn that bonus. By any means necessary!”
“By putting out fake reports to bolster stock prices?” I practically laugh out the words.
“Yes! If that’s what it took!” And she falls right into the trap.
“Mom, that’s illegal. I didn’t need a private school experience. I didn’t need the best swim club or the expensive prom dress.”
She rocks back in her chair with a hard laugh at my protests, so I shut my mouth and wait for her to reveal the rest.
“Are you telling me you would have been fine with me pulling you out of your junior high and putting you in public school, away from your friends? And what about those Anderson boys, who you were so intent on being friends with? I guess you’ve moved on from friends, though, huh?”
I glower.
“That’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle, don’t you think?”
“Hmmm,” she grumbles.
Our brief stare-off breaks when she gets to her feet and begins to tear her half of the press release into tiny pieces.
“I don’t need that copy anymore anyhow. That one’s already been sent, and David’s already made his moves.
I’ll be sure to remember that you don’t want the new car that bonus could buy, though.
And I hope you’re good enough at butterfly to keep your scholarship because I sure won’t be shelling out tuition anymore.
Since you’re so incensed by the fact that I did what I had to do to pay for your schooling. ”
She’s breathing hard, and I notice that her color is beginning to retreat, her face growing paler, and her arms almost blue.
I rush from my side of the table to hers, grabbing her chair and swiveling it around to catch her just as she collapses.
She’s ripping her shirt open around her neck, and her wide eyes look terrified.
Fuck. I’ve given my mom a heart attack!
“Hey! I need help in here! Someone call nine-one-one! Help!” My voice curdles with my screams. I urge my mom to the floor, but she shakes her head and pushes my hand away.
Caleb rushes in, his cell on speaker as an emergency worker responds. He spits out the address, and they begin asking questions about my mother’s state.
“Is she conscious?” the woman asks.
“I’m fine. It’s just . . . I can’t get a breath.” My mom’s voice is hoarse, and I doubt they can hear her through the phone line.
“She’s awake and speaking, but she’s having a hard time breathing. She nearly fainted, too. And her skin feels . . .” I lay my hand on her forehead, and she swiftly swats it away. “Moist. She’s sweaty.”
Damnit, she’s having a panic attack.
I grab Caleb’s phone from the table as he rushes to get her a glass of water. I wander out of the conference room door while two of her assistants tend to her.
“I’m sorry. I think she’s likely having a panic attack. She’s in a stressful job. But can you send someone? Just in case?” I don’t want her dying out of spite.
“We’re two minutes away, ma’am. Can you stay on the line with us, please? Keep me up to date on her condition, and answer some basic questions?”
I glance over my shoulder where my mom is now sitting with her head between her knees, and my focus drifts to her hand, which is now gripping the other half of the press release, the part I left on the table when I thought she was ill. She stuffs it into her pants pocket.
“Yes. I can stay on the line.”
My pursed lips grow rigid the longer I stare at my mom through the pane of glass that separates the conference room from the hallway.
Caleb rushes by with water, and my mom cradles the mug in her hands as she thanks him.
She tips her head back as she sips, then quickly asks for help holding the mug when she’s done.
Caleb is quick to help, and as her gaze drifts from her preferred Anderson brother to me, her signature disappointed smirk slides into place.
“I think she’s getting better, if you want to tell them to turn around.” My wry tone probably doesn’t convey my sardonic mood right now, especially in this situation, but damn is my mom good. I’m also less sad about throwing her under the proverbial bus.
“It’s better that we make sure. The firefighters are entering the building. You should see them soon.” I turn when the elevator dings and then move to the side as the paramedics begin taking my mother’s vitals.
“They’re here. Thank you so much.” I end the call and slip back into the room so I can put Caleb’s phone back on the table.
I linger as they evaluate my mom for an ambulance ride, and when she refuses, I slip out and take the stairs all the way down to the lobby.
Down is always easier than up, anyhow. That’s what makes it so tempting to fall from grace.