Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
“ Angry People are not always wise .”
~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
T he Southern California Marine Layer lingered as Elle’s sneakered feet slapped against the paved running path along the shoreline. Hints of the coming heat of the day thickening the air as she ran. So many conflicting emotions swirled within her, but she took the first steps to tamp them down. On Friday, she called a therapist and scheduled a virtual appointment for the following week. She’d still be in Chicago at the ribbon cutting for Sloan-Whitney’s new Oncology Center and announcement for their partnership with the Geneva Foundation. She’d extended her stay there to visit Beth, adhering to her desire to hold closer the people she cared about. It also felt fitting having the appointment on neutral ground, a place that was not Perry or Long Beach.
As Elle slowed to a brisk walk, the beach path crowded with people out enjoying their Saturday, she mulled over the last seven days and nights.
The mundane.
The extraordinary.
The in-between.
The one constant in the last seven days, the pain, hadn’t gotten any easier. In fact, the torment of daily living without Clayton had gotten worse. Each morning, she awoke to a sharp twinge of grief in her chest, an ache in her fingers to pick up her phone and reach out, choking words in her throat that wanted to climb out. I love you, be with me .
What would a future with Clayton look like, though? Could it be here in Long Beach, him running alongside her, the two of them coming back to Fitz napping on the condo balcony, the sound of the ocean his lullaby? Could she ask Clayton to move thousands of miles away from his loved ones and start over in a new city?
Or was it back in Perry, getting caught making out at the Greenway after a jog? Coming home to Fitz who click clacked up the stairs behind them, as they ran to the shower? The ghosts of her past lingering around each corner?
Breath heaving, she stepped onto the grass, stretching before walking back toward her building. Exhausted and wrung out, she just wanted to go back to her condo, shower, make tea, and curl up on the couch. Maybe she’d skip being the only one in the office on a Saturday, and just take care of herself for the weekend, instead of working.
Head down and lost in thought, she approached the condo building.
“Eleanor.” An unsure voice startled Elle as she reached the front door.
Her mother stood there, hands clenched and wearing a tight smile, staring at Elle with pleading eyes.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Elle’s mouth hung open.
“I stopped by Pete’s this week to drop off a ‘Thank You’ card from Daniel and me for his party. When I was there, I saw an envelope on the counter with your name and address. When your uncle wasn’t looking, I snapped a picture of it. I bought a ticket and flew out here. There isn’t an intercom, so I’ve just been waiting,” she explained.
“I can’t decide if that is a complete violation or ingenious,” Elle said, aghast and amazed that her mom would go to such lengths to find her. “So, you’ve been waiting out here just in case I appeared? How long?”
“Since yesterday. I sat here…” She pointed to a short red brick wall that flanked the front sidewalk leading to her building’s front door. “…until midnight last night and then came back this morning.”
Of course, they hadn’t seen each other. Elle had entered and left through the garage on Friday with her car and left before sunrise this morning for her run. Her mom had been here the whole time and she’d had no idea. In the small town of Perry, this would not go unnoticed, but in Long Beach, people loitering on the streets of downtown was not something anyone batted an eye at.
“Why are you here?” Elle asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I told you we were done.”
“I know and I believed you. I told myself I had to accept what I had done, but then Daniel told me about your conversation, and I knew I needed to try.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “You are not a consolation prize. I can’t have you think that. If anyone was stuck with anyone, you were stuck with me. You got the short end of the stick.”
“It felt like quite the opposite.” Elle snapped, turning toward the door.
“I was a bad mother. You deserved so much better. You still do,” her mom called, making Elle stop in her tracks, but her back remained turned toward her mom.
This apology was unlike the hollow apologies of the past. Her mother had broken her promises of trying harder almost the same moment they had been spoken. Never did her mom say what she was sorry for.
“Even before your dad left and your grandma died, I don’t think I was a good mother. Not the mother you needed. So often your dad, your uncle, or your grandma were who you looked to for comfort. They always knew what to say or do. I… I didn’t. So often my mom told me I wasn’t doing it right. She’d interject or push me aside, taking over.”
“So, it’s grandma’s fault?” Elle twisted with a snarl.
“No.” She raised her hands, taking two faltering steps toward Elle. “That’s not an excuse. It’s just…it’s just what it was. When your grandma died and then your dad left, I felt like I wasn’t enough for you. That I was who you were stuck with. I couldn’t see through my own pain and grief for all I had lost to see what I had. There are times I think if you hadn’t saved me that day, your life would have been so much better. You were so strong, when I should have been strong for you.”
“I needed you,” Elle croaked.
“I know and I failed you. I failed when I didn’t get off the couch for weeks after your dad left. When I tried to kill myself. When I chose men over you. When Jamie raped you. I wasn’t there.” She took a timid step closer.
“When I told you what he did, why didn’t you believe me?” Elle’s wobbly voice grew more forceful.
“I did believe you. I was in shock.” She held up a palm to halt Elle’s protest. “Again, not an excuse. I kept thinking, why would he do that to my daughter? Why had I let another man into my life who’d hurt my child? Your dad hurt you when he left. I chose him. I don’t think you really liked my other boyfriends, and when I think of how I laughed off the things they said, I’m ashamed of myself. I let them hurt you over and over again. Then I invited Jamie into our lives, and he raped you. That last phone call, after you hung up, I knew I’d said all the wrong things.” She hung her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t know how or what to say. I called back a few times, but I’d get your voicemail at your dorm, or your roommate would say you weren’t there. Your uncle told me to give you space, so I did.”
“Pete? Did you tell Pete what happened?” Elle cried, placing a steadying hand on her middle as air whooshed out of her. Had Pete known all this time.
“No.” Her mom stepped closer, the warm scent of vanilla and lavender soothingly wafting from her.
Elle let out a relieved breath as she stood taller.“Why didn’t you keep trying?”
“Because I’m weak. I was mortified about my actions and was scared. How could we come back from this? How could we come back from me? I was the monster under your bed.”
The once extinguished hope within Elle seemed to flicker at the remorse in her mom’s eyes. Fear of being alone had consumed her in the past when her mom apologized, but today regret, true regret, shaded her gaze. Not regret for what she lost, but for her actions, for realizing she was the monster.
“Why were you at Jamie’s grave?” Elle swallowed hard, keeping the spark of hope buried deep, not allowing it to thaw her heart when it came to her mom. It was too soon.
“I hadn’t intended to visit him. I was there visiting your grandma. A few years after we stopped speaking, I started visiting her on her birthday like you used to. Each year, I’d see a vase full of pink flowers and knew they were from you. I waited there all day just in case you came in person to try to talk to you. I had messed it up so badly at the wedding. I had promised your uncle that I wouldn’t speak to you at the wedding. I didn’t want to cause an issue for you, but I needed…wanted to talk to you.”
Elle tightened her embrace around her chest in a reassuring hug.
Her mom continued, “When you came through the gate, I wandered around the cemetery trying to give you space. When you told me what Jamie did, I confronted him. He denied it, of course. I told him he was vile and then I slapped him. He slapped me back. Then he left. The next time I saw him was in a picture in the obituaries.”
“Ok, but why were you at his grave?” Elle persisted, venom dripping from each word.
“To forgive him.”
“Excuse me?” Elle roared with indignation.
“No, not for the rape.” Her mom insisted firmly, grabbing Elle’s arm and twisting her back around to face her. “Never for that. There’s a special corner in hell with a hot poker that will be inserted where the sun doesn’t shine for that piece of dog poop.”
For some reason the use of “dog poop” made Elle want to laugh. Her mom had never been a big swearer. Every now and then, curse words would slip out, but they were rare.
“Dog poop? What would Pastor Danny say about such language?” Elle mocked with a slightly playful lilt to her tone.
“He knows I am far from perfect.” Her mom relaxed her grip on Elle’s shoulders but still maintained contact. “I was there to forgive Jamie because I blamed him for so long for losing you. He didn’t cause that. I did. I was a terrible mother. I should have held your hand instead of you holding mine. To say I am sorry will never be enough. I’m sorry for everything I missed, all the events of your life. I can’t ever get those back.” She dropped her hand. “Even if things remain as they are, I just wanted you to know that I am to blame. Your heart is such a precious gift that I didn’t take care of. You deserve so much more than me.”
Tears stung Elle’s eyes and her lower lip trembled.
This apology was raw, honest, and without a requested transaction. It was filled with hard truths from someone that had truly taken stock of their actions. It asked for nothing in return. Her mother didn’t beg for absolution or a second chance, her only need was for Elle to know that she was blameless. Elle had always felt that if she’d somehow been different, somehow more, her mom would have chosen her. It was never Elle who wasn’t enough, it was her mom that felt lacking.
Elle swiped at her eyes and invited her mom upstairs. They sat at the kitchen table with a pot of peppermint tea steeping. Elle’s hands folded in her lap as they sat. Her mother gazed around the condo, taking in the details of Elle’s life.
The silence between them was both awkward and contented. How long had it been since she sat at a table with her mom?
“Do you remember how I’d push the chairs up against the window in the dining room to create my own window seat for reading?” Elle asked, breaking the silence.
“To this day when I see big windows, I think about that.” Her mom smiled. “The apartment I live in has a window seat. I rented it because of that. It makes me feel close to you.”
“Apartment? What about Grandma’s house?” Elle gaped.
“I couldn’t stay there. It was too painful. I sold it ten years ago.”
“Pete never said anything.”
“I asked him not to. I felt bad doing it, but I knew it was what I needed to do. That house had too many memories. I couldn’t keep walking through the front door each day facing them. I’m sorry. I should have let Pete tell you,” Mom explained with remorseful eyes.
“I wish I had known…” Elle paused thinking of her childhood home.
What would she have done? When she left eighteen years ago, she never looked back. In the brief times she returned to Perry before moving to Los Angeles, she’d never driven past that house. Yes, there had been beautiful memories in that house, but it was haunted with the phantoms of so much pain that Elle didn’t want to revisit. Pain tends to linger in the foundation of homes. Elle was happy to be rid of it and to know her mom no longer lived there. That house had ceased to be a home long ago.
“I’m glad it’s gone. You deserve a fresh start.” Elle reached for the pot and poured two cups of tea.
The lavender curtains stirred in the warm Santa Anna breeze from the open sliding door that led to the balcony. A mix of fresh mint from the tea and salty ocean air filled the room.
Mom grinned. “This place is lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“I won’t pretend I haven’t internet stalked you through the years. I’ve read articles about the work you’ve done with Sloan-Whitney. I’m so proud of you. I know your grandma would be too. She always said you were the smartest of us all and she was right.”
Elle’s heart squeezed with a happy sadness at that.
“I also look at your Instagram and the accounts of your friends in your pictures just in case they post something with you that you’re not tagged in. I see you and Viet are still close. I remember you telling me about him. I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”
Elle raised a teasing eyebrow. “If you weren’t my mom, Instagram stalking me would be totally creepy.”
Elle drank her tea, contemplating this. If she didn’t want to be found, she could have made it more difficult. Had Elle left her Instagram public in a secret hope that her mom would look? As angry as Elle had been, she’d always hoped that one day her mother would reach out.
They may never have the mother/daughter relationship either of them wanted, but they could have something else, something in-between.
“I’m going to start seeing a therapist on Friday,” Elle said.
“That’s good.” Her mom smiled with approval. “I’ve been seeing someone for the last twelve years.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I had…well, I have a lot of work to do. It’s hard, but it’s good.”
“I’d like to get a few months under my belt first, but would you be open to us finding a therapist to see together? Someone to help us work through things. Today has been a start, but we have so much work to do.”
“Of course.” Tears welled in her mom’s eyes.
A silent beat passed, allowing them to breathe in the moment of first steps. Of new beginnings. They would never be what they were, but they could be something new. Something better.
“What about Clayton?” Her mom’s quick change of subject was dizzying.
Elle’s forehead furrowed. “What about Clayton?”
“Perry’s a small town. I heard the talk about the two of you and saw you together. My track record with romance may be less than desirable, but I can spot two people deeply in love with one another. I had a front row seat to your aunt and uncle, after all. That man loves you and I think you love him too.”A teasing quirk of a smile lifted her mom’s lips.
“So, you’ve been reading Sense and Sensibility ?” Elle blurted, trying to change the topic. It was too painful to talk about Clayton and even more strange to talk about him with her mom.
“You still do that.” She wagged knowing brows at Elle.
“What?”
“Change the topic when you don’t want to talk about something. You’ve done that since you were a little girl.”
Elle sipped her tea.
Shaking her head, she answered the question about the Austen book. “Yes, I have read it many times. I found your copy after you left. It was the last book I remember seeing you read. I guess I thought if I read it, I’d feel like you were there. I don’t know. Then the story resonated with me. Elinor was so strong, brave, and lovely. She took care of everyone, not asking for anything for herself and languishing in sorrow until she got her happy ending.”
“A wedding?” Elle smirked.
Mom just rolled her eyes. “Then there was flighty Marianne with no care for anyone but herself, chasing love without thinking of the consequences until she finally learned her lesson and got her happy ending.”
“Another marriage.”
“Smartbutt,” her mom chided with a chuckle.
Elle laughed in reply.
“Yes, to Colonel Brandon. Marianne and Elinor were sisters, but I saw us in them. You in Elinor, of course and me in Marianne. It shouldn’t have been that way, but it was.” Her mom’s apologetic voice was soft.
Elle shifted in her seat. She had the same thought when she and Clayton had snuggled on the couch in his mancave watching the film version of the book. The parallels between the Dashwood Sisters' relationship and she and her mother were a little startling. Elle the Elinor taking care of their broken family and Mom the Marianne swayed by her fanciful desires.
“Maybe Daniel is your Colonel Brandon.” Elle bit her lower lip, thinking of the unassuming but dragon slaying soldier turned chaplain. His quiet patience and steadfast love for her mom was so similar to Colonel Brandon’s for Marianne.
“Maybe.” Her mom sighed, then pursed her lips.
“What?” Elle coaxed.
“Maybe Clayton is your Mr. Ferris.” Then she paused, squinting her eyes. “Or, perhaps, your Mr. Darcy.”
If someone had told Elle even three hours ago, that she’d be sitting in her condo overlooking the Pacific, drinking tea and talking to her mom about Jane Austen, she wouldn’t have believed it.
They sat for several more hours, each taking those first steps on the new path they would traverse together toward healing and forgiveness. Elle’s walled-off heart poking through the new gaps in the crumbling wall.
The relationship with Clayton had started dismantling Elle’s wall, brick by brick. Not just allowing those Elle loved in but herself out. The work would be hard, but she’d continue, allowing her to build a new relationship with her mom and with herself.
Placing her teacup down, her gaze fixed on her mom. “Mom, call me Elle. That’s what my friends call me.”
“Ok… Elle.”