Chapter Thirty-One
Ria
“Surprise, baby. Give your momma a hug.”
What the hell?
She flings her arms around me and it takes me a second to reciprocate. She smells of cheap perfume, cigarettes and booze. My mom’s signature scent, reminding me of the worst parts of my life. I blow out a breath to stop the bile that’s rising in my throat, as memories of my mom, drunk, random men, take over.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, stunned at the fact she”s actually here. Late, in true Stella style, but she”s here and I don”t know what to feel first. Confused, happy, upset, glad?
“It’s my grandbaby’s birthday party. I wasn”t goanna miss that now, was I?” she says in her southern accent. She’s lived all over but never lost her twang.
“The party was this afternoon, Mom. It”s 8 o‘clock. Elle isn”t even here. You should have called,” I say, trying not to raise my voice.
“Oh… well, never mind. We were passing through anyway. Sid’s taking me to New York for the weekend.”
“Who the heck is Sid?” I fire back angrily, scrunching up my face.
“Oh, he’s parking the car. He’ll be in a minute.”
I stand in the doorway, staring blankly at her. It’s been nearly a year since I saw her, yet here she is, acting like everything is fine. Her bleached hair in need of a root touch up, her clothes are two sizes two small and her boob job, that she convinced some poor guy to pay for on full display. If it wasn”t for the years of drinking and smoking, my mom was a stunning woman. But like everything in her life, booze, nicotine and men were her top priority. Consequences be damned.
”Aren”t you going to let me come in properly? Offer me a beer?”
No, is my first thought. You missed it all, is my second, but something inside me softens slightly because I”ve never been able to say no to my mom.
”Sure, come in.” I sigh, stepping aside.
“Well, hello, who is this gorgeous creature? Is this the upgrade?” She winks.
“Mom,” I scold.
“What, I always told you, never downgrade, always upgrade, and your Alex was a catch, but I can see why you ditched him for this one,” she says eyeing Jack up and down.
She reaches out her skinny arm, covered in bangles, and holds her hand out with her staple red nail polish like she expected him to kiss the back of her hand. “Stella Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet ya,”
“It’s nice to see you, Stella,” he says, taking her hand and shaking it.
Looking at him like it’s finally clicked that Jack spent most weekends at our house when we were teens. “I remember you; you hung around with my Noah back in high school. Damn, Maria, you did upgrade, girl.” Leaning towards me, she whispers, “I bet he fucks damn good too.” Clapping her hands together, she walks towards the kitchen. “I’ll get us some beers.”
I didn”t need to say a word. Jack knew, he always knew. He wraps me in his arms, and I let out a shaky breath.
“I”m so sorry. My mom is, well, she’s a lot.”
“I remember, but I got you.” His tone is reassuring. Knowing I have him in my corner will make this a little more bearable.
“Let’s get this over with.” I exhale, taking his hand and heading for the backyard where I can hear laughing.
Everyone is silent but my mother as we sit around the firepit. In true Stella style, she’s talking about herself and not asking anyone else a damn thing. Sid, who we found out is called Simon, is a strange old guy, likely old enough to be her dad, but he screams money and midlife crisis. And I get the sense they haven’t known each other very long or that their relationship will last past Monday. He’s already fallen asleep in my lawn chair as my mom spins stories of her girls’ weekend in Vegas.
“So, what are you going to do in New York?” Ali asks, thankfully ending Mom’s story about how she and her girlfriend ended up on stage at the Magic Mike show.
“Bit of this, bit of that. Sid’s gonna show me where he grew up, and he’s booked us a penthouse.” She grins and does a little wiggle, taking down the last of her beer. “I’ve never fucked in a penthouse, so I can”t wait.”
“Mom, seriously,” I mutter under my breath, covering my face with my hands.
Why doesn”t she have a filter?
“Oh, don’t worry, honey, old Sid here can still get his disco stick up if you get my drift. A few pops of the blue pills and he can party all night long, can’t you, baby?” she says, smacking him on the leg. He jolts awake and mumbles what I think is a “yeah baby.”
I wince, looking at everyone’s awkward stares at my mother.
“I bet you boys can make your disco sticks stay up all night long, am I right ladies?” she says staring at Gabby and Ali, who are too stunned to speak.
Dear God, kill me now.
“I need some air,” I announce.
“But, baby, you”re outside,” my mom says, sounding confused.
I ignore her, heading for the house. Once inside, I stand in front of the sink, filling a glass of water, and gulp it down like I’ve just run a 10k. I can feel my chest tightening, an all too familiar sense of panic rising through my body.
Breathe, Ria, breathe, you’re okay.
I take in a deep breath, feeling myself on the edge of a panic attack, something I haven”t had for a long time. A mixture of hate, anger, and hurt swirling around my head. How can she turn up and act like this? How can she not ask me how I am, how the girls are? How can she think it’s okay to talk like that in front of my friends?
Strong arms wrap around me from behind.
‘Maria, baby, Momma’s gotta make tracks. Sid wants to get to the Big Apple before midnight and he has to take his evening pill.”
She stops in the doorway, a look of satisfaction on her face.
“Looks like I’m not gonna be the only one riding tonight. You have fun, my girl.”
I can’t help it, couldn”t stop it if I wanted to. I feel it bubbling up inside me, like a pan at boiling point. Years of putting up with my mom”s crap, years of feeling like an option and not a priority in her life, years of her skipping in and out of my life, and now my girl”s life, putting men before me; it all breaks through the surface and I explode. Slamming the glass I was holding down with such force, it shatters into hundreds of tiny fragments, scattering across the floor, just like my heart. She’s leaving me again.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I bellow.
Her eyes widen, all the color draining from her face. I”ve never raised my voice to her, not once. But now I can”t seem to care.
“Excuse me?” she asks, her tone low.
“How dare you show up at my daughter”s birthday party and make it about you. You show up six hours late, no phone call, no text, with your new flavor of the week, and embarrass me in front of my friends.”
I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I’m watching myself finally say everything I have wanted to say to my mom for years. I can feel every limb trembling as I run my hands through my hair, tugging the strands, welcoming the burn of pain on my scalp. Squeezing my eyes closed and shaking my head, the words spill from me, my voice so loud it vibrates off the walls.
“In case you had forgotten, Mother, I’ve had one of the worst years of my life. I left my cheating asshole of a husband, and you haven”t called, you haven”t checked in. It’s always about you. You only show up when you need a place to stay, money, or want to show off your new boyfriend. You—”
“How fucking dare you speak to me like that. I’m your mother. You will show me some respect.” Her face contorts with rage like she is ready to lunge at me.
“Ha, Mother, that”s a bit rich. You”ve never been a mother to me. You”ve always picked your boyfriends over me and Noah. Chose the bottle over us. Why the hell do you think he left us as soon as he turned eighteen? He wanted to get away from you!”
My body is shaking and I clench my fists so tight they go numb. “You’ve never been there for us, Mom, never. I really needed you this year. I called, I texted. I even wrote a fucking card telling you my new address and asking you to visit. But you didn”t, and then you show up on my daughter’s birthday like this,” I say, gesturing at her state of her.
Hot tears prick my eyes, my chest tightening. A wave of panic cursing through me. Am I really saying all this?
“I can’t have you in my life anymore, Mom. You”ve done it this time. I”ve forgiven you for so much. I forgave you for all the times you forgot to pick me up from school, the times you left me for days on end with nothing more than a fridge full of leftovers.” I feel my voice breaking; I close my eyes, mustering up all the strength I have to say the next part. “And I forgave you for what you let that disgusting bastard do to me. I forgave you when I got sent to foster care, but I wish…”
I stop, feeling my breathing becoming erratic. It”s making me dizzy. I take in a breath and release it shakily.
“God, I fucking wish you never got me back. I wish you left me in that foster home. I had no home with you. You ruined it.”
The look my mother gives me is like a knife to the heart. There”s no love, just disgust. Her lip curls up and she sneers.
“You selfish, ungrateful little bitch. I did the best I could. I might not have been a perfect mother, but at least I didn’t walk out on you like your deadbeat father,” she spits.
I sniff, wiping the tears I hadn”t realized were free falling down my face. “I wish you had, Mom. It would have saved me so much hurt. I just wished you loved me as much as you loved getting your highs.”
We stand there, an unsettling silence surrounding us as we stare at each other, knowing this is it. Unless she truly changes, I can’t have my mom in my life anymore. She brings out the worst feelings in me and I’ve spent too long healing for her to ruin it all.
I say a silent prayer that this will be the moment, the turning point in our relationship, where she will take me in her arms and hold me and be the mom I have longed for.
But she doesn”t. Instead, she turns and without a word she leaves, walking out of my life for what will probably be the last time. I hear her shout for Sid and my backyard gate slam, and that’s it, she’s gone.
I can’t let myself fall apart, not yet. Everyone enters the kitchen and Jack gives them a nod, letting them know they should go. Once we’re alone, I give in and I crumple to the floor, landing on the shards of broken glass that cut into my legs, but I welcome the pain. I let out the sobs I had been fighting to keep in. Jack sits, holding me as I let out what feels like a lifetime of pain. I haven’t let myself cry like this, and finally, I give in and let all my bottled tears flow. Tears for the mother-daughter relationship I”ll never have, tears for my failed marriage, and tears for the younger me who only wanted to feel loved and wanted as the man I am falling for holds me so tightly, giving me hope, that maybe, not everyone leaves.