Chapter 41 Maia
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
MAIA
As much as I hated the fact that I didn’t have a real sense of closure about the situation between me and Becky—why she targeted me, for instance—I walked into the office feeling lighter than I had in nearly two years.
In fact, I hadn’t quite realized how stressed I was about my working relationship with Becky until I didn’t have to deal with her anymore.
I looked forward to work again in a way I hadn’t in a long time.
Colleagues, especially those who had worked closely with Becky in marketing, had come forward to whisper in my ear about Becky’s escalating behavior over the last couple of years.
Apparently, she’d taken credit for the work of assistants, had been passive aggressive toward more than just me, had bullied assistants into doing work for her, threatening their jobs if they didn’t, had forced one of the marketing assistants to work the day after her gran passed away, laughed at an intern who was crying over the death of her dog, and a million other little things that had all added up to an uncomfortable workplace situation.
Becky fished for compliments when she wasn’t already complimenting herself.
They told me she was self-important and how she was preoccupied with looks and the way she was perceived but also seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with me.
If I was brought up in conversation, she’d randomly talk about how gorgeous I obviously thought I was, how I thought I was better than her, how she worked harder than me but no one recognized that.
To the point they were all talking about it in the marketing department.
I wished they’d mentioned it to me at the time.
Between these facts and her behavior toward me, escalating from mild comments to outright lying and eventually sabotaging me, I spoke to Lily.
Lily was cautious as ever about an amateur diagnosis, especially of someone she herself hadn’t met or counselled, but did say Becky showed signs of narcissistic personality disorder.
I took that to mean that I would never get the closure I desired.
Ultimately, I had to ask myself if answers were even worth pursuing.
They were not.
The atmosphere at work was how I remembered it. Hectic and stressful but fun and creative, and there was a sense of lightness and togetherness in the team again. Therefore, I was happy to leave Becky in the past.
We were a week out from the wedding, and I was nervous.
Not about marrying Baird—I knew it was normal to go into your wedding with doubts and fears, and I always thought I’d be that person.
However, I could honestly say, hand on heart, that I desperately wanted to be Baird’s wife and to know that he was my person for the rest of forever.
The nerves were more about the public spectacle.
The gossip and negativity had died down a little, but I knew the wedding would stir things up again.
And yes, there was a big part of me that was sad that our wedding had been orchestrated by other people and that we’d been limited to the choices they’d set before us.
But I could deal with that knowing I got Baird out of it. He was worth it because he was compromising on the vision he saw for us to help me keep the job I loved.
He proved how lucky I was time and again.
During a fortnight that should have been dedicated to just us and our impending nuptials, he stood by my side while I paid a ton of attention to my family.
I was feeling extra clingy with my parents and Lockie and with my aunt Shannon.
We spent time with them for my own reassurance that the articles hadn’t disrupted or impacted their lives in a big way, and that we were all good. Baird understood that.
We gave equal time and attention to his family and Ainsley, because it was becoming real for them too that what had seemed like a whirlwind relationship was going to end in something legal and permanent.
In among all that was the pain of discovering my mum had been in recovery for over a decade and that she’d betrayed me.
Baird had suggested perhaps I should talk to someone because he’d found counseling helpful, and I said I would consider it.
The trauma from the hurt my mother had caused had impacted our relationship in the past, and I didn’t want that to keep happening.
Baird, my family, my work, the upcoming wedding, did a lot to distract me from Maryanne Lewis.
Therefore, it was a shock when one week out from the wedding, I was in the middle of booking flights for myself, Eli, and Liza to attend Paris Fashion Week when Eli popped their head around my door.
Their expression was difficult to read as they cleared their throat and very slowly relayed, “There is a call for you … from someone claiming to be Maryanne Lewis.”
It was amazing how her name could set off a fight-or-flight response. I instantly felt my breathing grow rapid, sweat on my palms, my entire body tense and trembling. I experienced a rush of lightheadedness.
“Do you want me to put the call through? Maia?” Eli stepped into the room, frowning. “Maia, do you want me to put the call through?”
I closed my eyes, my mind whirring as the blood pounded in my ears. “Um … okay.”
“You sure?”
I nodded, looking at the phone on my desk.
I was aware of Eli leaving. As I waited, I contemplated the idea that the person calling wasn’t really my mum. That it was a scam. That someone was trying to mess with me. But if it was my mother, why was she calling? What did she have to say? Did I want to hear what she had to say?
I was going to throw up.
The phone rang on the desk and I literally jumped in my seat. Sucking in a shaky breath, I exhaled and reached to pick up the handset. If it was really her, I wanted to be calm and cool and collected. Detached, almost.
“Hello?”
“Maia?”
A rush of nostalgia was quickly followed by resentment, heartbreak, anger, all the ugly feelings I wished I could let go of.
It was really her.
“Maryanne?”
“Aye … it’s me.”
I waited, my ears throbbing from how hard and fast my heart beat the blood around my body. “Why are you calling me?”
“I …” The line crackled as she let out a shaky sounding exhale. “I wondered if you would … I mean, we can talk here on the phone, but I wondered if you would meet me.”
“Why?”
“I have some things I’d like to explain.”
I squeezed my eyes closed because she sounded like how she used to before her addiction got so bad she could barely string sentences together. Her speech was so greatly abused by the heroin. But here she was on the other end of the line, sounding sober and clear.
“That newspaper thing … it wasn’t … that bastard edited out so much of what I said and … and he made it look like I was blaming you, and that was not my intention.”
I gritted my teeth. “Why talk to him at all?”
“I want to explain in person.” At my lengthy silence, she continued, “I’m not …
I’m not expecting a relationship with you, Maia.
I’m not after anything. But if I were you, I’d be feeling a certain way right now, and I …
a long time ago, my sponsor told me that I should make amends with you first and foremost, and I couldn’t do it.
I don’t even know if you care or if anything I do affects you or affected you …
but I owe you amends. Now more than ever. ”
It was hard for me to reconcile the voice on the other end of the phone with the woman who had put me in danger, who had left me to grow up and take care of myself, and whose negligible and abusive actions had pushed me to the point of running away.
I could hold on to that resentment and let it eat me alive with all the unanswered questions between us … or I could face her and try to find as much closure as was possible.
“Where do you want to meet?”
I heard her wee harsh intake of breath. Her voice shook as she replied, “I could come to you, or you could come to me. I live in West Lothian now.”
My God, she was physically closer than ever, and she’d never bloody reached out! That heartbroken fury rose its ugly head, and I knew I didn’t want her in my home. I wanted to be able to leave if I needed to. “I’ll come to you.”
I stared at the small bungalow, a wreck of emotions. Mostly I wondered what my childhood might have been like if I’d instead grown up in this house on this quiet street where people looked after their gardens and neighborhood watch signs hung from the lampposts.
“Are you sure you want me to stay in the car?” Baird asked from the driver’s side.
It was the day after the call with Maryanne, a sunny Saturday morning, and Baird had driven me to the well-looked-after development on the outskirts of Blackburn, a town in West Lothian, less than fifty minutes from the city center.
I didn’t know how Maryanne had gone from the worst area, worst tenement in Glasgow, to this nice wee house, but part of me needed to know.
Baird’s frown was deep between his brows, and I knew he was worried about me facing my mother.
We’d talked about it at length last night because for Baird, he genuinely didn’t desire or need closure from his birth father.
He was at peace with the idea of never knowing him because he felt so strongly about his abandonment.
I think he found it hard to understand why I needed to talk with my mother because he didn’t think she was worth it, but I wanted the door on this painful chapter in my life to close for good.
I didn’t know how it would close, what that looked like, but I needed to walk away from this discussion having gained clarity about who she was.
“I’ll be okay,” I promised him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Knowing you’re outside waiting for me makes it easier to walk in there.”
He reached over to brush his mouth over mine in answer.
My answering smile was shaky with nerves, so I shoved open the passenger door and got out before I caved into my fears.