Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
When I opened my eyes again, my mom was still looking at me. And she was still crying.
I blinked. Wait, we weren’t in her kitchen anymore. We were in a cafe. Mom sat across the table from me, tears in her eyes. I shook my head, trying to acclimate to the sudden change.
It felt like I’d been sitting in the cafe with her for hours. Emotion weighed me down; I’d brought her here to tell her something, something bad. Something I felt so guilty about.
“Susie… Why didn’t you tell me?” Mom said in a little voice.
Oh, God, she sounded so hurt. My heart sank. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t?—”
“It’s been two years. You never said a word. Why would you hide something like that? Am I… am I not important enough to you? Did you think that little of me?”
I stared at her for a while, trying to wrench my train of thought away from the sinking, sickening feeling, the guilt of making my mother feel terrible, and trying to hold onto rational thought.
Her eyes shone with tears. I felt awful. My poor mom. She was right; I was a terrible daughter. I sank into my seat, almost collapsing in on myself. I was a fuck-up on so many levels, and this was just one more?—
Something cold and sharp dug into me. I looked down. It was a dagger, shoved into the side of my red and white striped hotpants. I frowned, staring at it for a minute. Why the hell was I wearing hot pants?
Realization hit me like a baseball bat to the back of the head, and I jerked my head up towards my mother.
“You’re not real,” I told her. “I’m in the Under, and you’re still alive. You’re a phantom, just like those phantoms that were haunting me when I was cursed.”
Mom wiped her eyes and sniffed. “I tried so hard to be there for you, especially since your dad was out gallivanting across the globe. I’ve always been here for you, Susie, but you didn’t think to call me?”
“You’re not real,” I mumbled again. I bit my lip, thinking.
It took me a moment. “Oh, I know what this one is about. This is after I got released from the hospital, and you were hurt that I never told you about my breakdown and arrest in the first place. Well,” I said to the phantom of my mom.
“The only reason I didn’t tell you is firstly, I was on so many meds, I didn’t know up from down.
And secondly, when the dust settled and I could finally string a sentence together, you were on that tour of Africa, and I didn’t want to worry you. ”
She let out a sob and buried her face in her handkerchief. I was a shitty daughter.
No, I wasn’t. “Actually, you know what?” I straightened up in my seat.
“While we’re here, I’ve got something to say, and I should have said it to you at the time, but I didn’t, because I was still so raw and confused about everything that had happened to me.
You don’t get to be mad at me about this,” I said, pointing at her.
“This is my trauma, Mom. Not yours. You don’t get to be all hurt that I didn’t call you when I was arrested, and you’ve got no?—”
She faded away into mist. The cafe disappeared.