Chapter 42
42
M y mother looks shocked to discover me standing on her doorstep.
“Hi,” I greet, grip temporarily tightening on the cup of coffee I’m holding. It was the only stop I made on my way here from the airport, wanting to get this conversation out of the way before surprising Lili.
I wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow. But I signed the last of the deal papers a day early, then got on the first plane to New York.
“ Charles . I—” She glances past me. “What are you doing here?”
No nice to see you . No what a wonderful surprise .
What are you doing here?
“I’ll explain,” I say tersely. “Can I come in?”
“Oh! Uh, yes. Of course.”
It’s not really an of course though. She looks uncertain and uncomfortable, fiddling with a pearl earring as she leads me into the sitting area located off the entryway.
It’s never been an of course with my mother. Maybe , possibly , we’ll see , one day , perhaps . Those are her most common responses when I ask her about calling Blythe or visiting England.
And I’m done capitulating to her. She made her decisions, and it’s not my responsibility to make her reconsider walking away from us. It felt more important to maintain some connection with my lone living parent after my father died. Less so now.
He made lots of mistakes, but he didn’t choose to leave us. She did. She keeps choosing to leave us, and I’m finished acting like that’s acceptable.
“Derek’s out at a breakfast meeting. Had I known you were coming, I would have?—”
“I’m here to see you, Georgia. Not Derek.”
My mother nods once, hands falling into her lap and folding. Posture perfect. She looks regal.
I have a flash of memory. Her seated in the upholstered dining chair at the opposite end of the table from my father. Ten chairs running the length between them. Blythe and I always had to choose ends. Sides.
“Granny had a stroke.”
She pales. “Is Grace all right?”
“She’s fine. She spent several days in the hospital and has been at home resting ever since.”
More like entertaining. Last time I checked in with Elsie, she told me Gran has been hosting a revolving door of well-wishers. I haven’t visited Gran in several weeks. I told her she needed to apologize to Lili for her cold treatment at the garden party before I returned for tea.
I’d never given Gran an ultimatum before, and I don’t think she believed me at the time. I’m certain she does now.
“The doctors have her on blood thinners that should prevent it from happening again,” I add.
Georgia nods. “She’s tough.”
My jaw flexes. “Blythe is too. But do you know what she said to me when I got to the hospital? ‘She’s all we have left, Charlie.’”
“Aging is just as difficult for family members as?—”
“That’s not the bloody point! The point is, she needed you. She needs you, and you’ve never been there. Not once!”
“She’s welcome to visit anytime?—”
I interrupt her again. “Blythe’s never going to visit you, Georgia. Never . You’re a stranger who abandoned her.”
My mother flushes. “It was a … complicated situation, Charles.”
“You think I don’t know what Papa was like? You think Blythe doesn’t? We know because we lived with him for sixteen years after you left! You think I couldn’t tell that you were miserable, even when I was a kid? I could. Divorcing Papa was one thing. But abandoning me and Blythe was another.”
She starts fiddling with her earring again. “He’d only give me the divorce if I gave up my parental rights. Your father didn’t want you seeing me or visiting here, so he made sure I had no custody claim. My options were to leave alone or not at all.”
I stare at her, wanting to dispute it. Tell her that she must have misunderstood, that my father would never do that.
Problem is, he would.
I’m not even surprised to hear that he did. My mom leaving was a betrayal. Even before she did, he controlled everything.
The schools Blythe and I attended, who we socialized with, what activities we participated in. I can’t imagine him relinquishing any of that control for us to go on a vacation with the woman who chose to leave him.
But …
“Parental rights wouldn’t have mattered once I turned eighteen. Where have you been for the past eight years , Georgia? Did you forget how old I was after missing all those birthdays? Blythe is twenty-one!”
Her hands drop to twist in her lap, no longer neatly folded. “I’m sorry, Charles. I didn’t—I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to hear from me after?—”
“It’s not about me wanting to hear from you. It’s about you choosing to have no contact with us.”
“I sent the invitation,” she nearly whispers.
And that’s the only reason we’ve talked since she left. She mailed a wedding invitation to Newcastle.
Blythe refused to attend. My father told me going was a mistake. But I couldn’t shake the certainty that I’d regret missing it—for a wide range of reasons. Wanting to see what my mother was like, wanting to see if she was happy, wanting to be the bigger person. Then, my dad died, family was suddenly in shorter supply, and I agreed to visit her and her new husband the following summer. I kept indulging her, but it ends now.
Maybe that’s obvious on my face because she says, “I made a lot of mistakes, Charles.”
“Yeah, you did. Papa too. All he left me, aside from a title I don’t want, was a mountain of debt.”
It’s a relief to say that. Say it to my mother, in particular. Despite her many shortcomings in the role, she knew my father. Knows what the role of duke is like. This news means more to her than most people and like something she should know.
For the first time since she opened the door, my mom looks truly shocked. “What? I don’t understand what?—”
“There’s nothing to understand. His barristers sat me down after the funeral to tell me it was all gone, plus a lot of overdue payments. That’s one of the main reasons I came to New York the past two summers. To talk to American investors, try to salvage what I could.”
My mom tucks a piece of blonde hair behind one ear. “I’ll talk to Derek, see what he?—”
“No. I didn’t come here for your help. It’s been taken care of.”
“Taken care of? What are you?—”
I cut her off. “I came to tell you that I’ll probably be in New York a lot more often. We’ll likely run into each other at other events. But this is my last visit here. The last time I’m going to make an effort. Please give Derek my best.”
She scrambles to her feet when I stand, confusion written all over her face. “I-I don’t understand. What happened? Your other visits have been perfectly pleasant.”
We have different definitions of perfectly pleasant , I guess.
“What happened? You decided you didn’t want kids, Georgia, after you already had them. I’m just respecting that decision, the way I should have done all along.”
“Charles …”
“I have to go.”
I head for the door.
“It’s Ellis’s birthday tomorrow.”
I don’t turn around, but my steps stop. “I know it’s his birthday tomorrow. I’m going to get dinner with him, his girlfriend, and the woman I’m going to marry. Because an inability to show up—to fucking care—isn’t a family trait, apparently. Papa wasn’t perfect, but he was there. He came to my rugby matches, and he bought Blythe gifts without me having to suggest it ten times. I used to worry I was too like him. Now, I’m just grateful I’m nothing like you .”
I walk out the door without saying anything else, accepting it might be the last time I see my mother.