19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Nate
Louise was staying in a two-bedroom apartment not far from my condo. Whether that was intentional or a coincidence, I did not know. But since I was fairly certain this visit was going to be short, her location was convenient for me to stop by on my way home from work.
Nothing else about this was convenient. Not the rush of feelings that struck when her nurse showed me in. Not the way those feelings went rampant when I caught sight of my mother.
She’d been frail when she’d shown up on Roman’s doorstep a month or two ago and now was no different. A scarf covered her head, and her body was wrapped in a thick robe, but there was no hiding the hollow of her cheeks and how sunken her eyes had become.
Still, when I walked into her living room, she smiled like it was the best day of her life.
“Nathan, you came.” Her voice was clear, with only a slight vibration behind it. She gestured toward the chair opposite hers, next to a large picture window. “Please, sit down. If you need something to drink…”
I waved her off. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything. I won’t be staying long.”
It might have been cruel, but I wanted to manage her expectations of this conversation. I was here for me—to put my curiosity to rest. As soon as that happened, I was leaving. If Louise wanted something else out of this, she’d be disappointed.
“You look really great,” she said, her eyes drinking me in. “So much like your father. Like your brothers. You were always beautiful boys.”
“Thank you.” I rubbed the side of my jaw, already uncomfortable. “You don’t…”
“Look great?” A raspy laugh burst out of her with surprising force. “No, I suppose I don’t. I avoid mirrors so I don’t spook myself. I loathe to think how bad I’ll look by the end of this, but then, I won’t be around to care.”
This…wasn’t what I thought I’d be getting. Louise was almost cheerful. Not manic. I’d seen her that way before, and this wasn’t it.
“Why do you seem happy?” I blurted out.
“Oh. Am I?” Her hand came to her chest. “My son’s here. How could I be anything but happy?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not here to forgive you.”
That sobered her. “I don’t expect you to, Nathan.”
“It’s Nate. No one calls me Nathan. Not since I was a child.”
Only you did.
“Nate,” she murmured. “That might take me a bit to get used to, but I will. I’ll get it right.”
Deep lines creased around her eyes as she looked me over again. She seemed to like what she was seeing, but sitting here letting her stare at me was disconcerting. I wouldn’t be able to take it for long.
“Was there something specific you wanted to say to me?”
“Yes. Quite a bit.” Her hand trembled as she tucked it into her robe’s pocket.
“I know you’ve struggled, and it’s my fault.
You got your faulty wiring from me, and I didn’t stick around to help you through it.
I know it isn’t my place to ask, but are you on medication?
In therapy? Are you taking care of yourself? ”
I jerked with each question. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I’d known she would go there, but I hadn’t expected it so quickly or with such blunt force.
“I’m on top of things,” I bit out.
She breathed a heavy sigh. “Have you attempted again…since you were—”
“Just once. I was really young.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about that, Louise.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Of course you don’t. You don’t have to. I just…I’ll tell you about me. Maybe that will help. If you’ll give me a few more minutes?”
I didn’t care to know more about the connection we shared. My brain was imbalanced. Miswired, as she’d put it. It was how things were, and nothing she could say would change it. I nodded anyway, and she sucked in a deep, rattling breath.
“My mother called them ‘spells’ when I was young. I’d get sad or uncontrollably angry, and no one knew what to do with me.
Other times, I’d be the life of the party.
It wasn’t until I was an adult anyone suggested I was having depressive episodes.
Of course I didn’t believe it. What did I have to be depressed about?
That’s exactly what your father would say to me when we started dating.
He’d tell me to smile and look at all I had.
He hated when I got sad, and even more when I swung the other way and went wild. ”
I was listening despite myself, recognizing myself in some of what she was saying while other parts had nothing to do with me.
My pendulum swung too far one way, never the opposite.
I’d never once been accused of being the life of the party.
The wildest I’d gotten was going too fast on the alpine slide.
Knowing I wasn’t exactly like my mother was a relief.
She went on. “When I had you and your brothers…it was better and worse. I tried for you guys, but when I couldn’t get better, it drove me into very dark places.
Your dad didn’t believe in therapy. He wanted me medicated and quiet—the wild girl he’d fallen in love with at twenty had become a liability by thirty.
He was busy, and I was lost. Neither of us was the parent we should have been to you four. ”
“You weren’t,” I confirmed. They’d been largely absent then volatile when they were both around. But I had good memories of my mother too. She’d danced and sung, told us stories and chased us around playgrounds.
I also remembered being frightened the whole time she was happy, sure one of us would say something wrong, or her mood would shift, and she’d wind up sobbing or screaming—or worse, wandering off and leaving us somewhere alone.
She nodded solemnly. “The day I left, I was certain I was going to end my life. I didn’t know how or when.
All I knew was I couldn’t do it around you.
I drove and drove and drove and finally wound up hospitalized.
Nathan—Nate, it wasn’t a miracle, but it was the best thing that could have happened to me.
I spent a year in residential treatment, starting intensive therapy and different medications until my doctors found a cocktail that worked for me. They made me feel like I could live.”
I swallowed back bile, clenching my hands into fists at my sides. “Glad it worked out.”
Her mouth puckered into something like a grimace.
“It wasn’t a happy ending or all puppies and rainbows.
I almost gave up when your father wouldn’t let me come back.
But I did see you four. You looked like men by then, but you were still my boys.
I…watched you for a while. You were leaning on each other, and I thought you seemed okay.
The last thing I wanted was to disrupt the balance you’d created.
And I was worried if I fought your father, it would send me back to the same dark place that had made me leave the first time. ”
“So you gave up,” I filled in.
“I gave up,” she agreed. “In some ways, it was selfish, but at the time, I truly did think it was my only choice, and your father agreed to give me updates if I stayed away.” She dropped her gaze to her lap.
“When I’d heard you’d attempted, all I wanted was to wrap you in my arms and keep you safe.
If I had thought for even a second it would have helped you get better, I would have come back. ”
“It wouldn’t have.” Sickness churning in my gut. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“I know. But I hope you’ve talked to someone about it.”
I blinked at her, not saying a word. I didn’t talk to my brothers about that time of my life, so Louise certainly wasn’t getting any of it.
She sucked in a shaky breath. “Therapy and the right medication made a world of difference for me. You don’t have to talk to me. You never have to tell me anything. I only hope you’re speaking to someone. You can manage this, but you have to stay on top of it.”
My fists uncurled, and I flattened my palms on my legs. “Is this all you wanted to say?”
She blinked fast. “If that’s all the time you have for me today. Well, besides I love you, and I’ve never stopped keeping track of you. I’m very proud of the man you’ve become. All of you boys. I know I had little to do with it, but I am.”
I couldn’t remember my mother ever telling me she was proud of me. I didn’t want it to mean anything, but it struck like a fist to my chest.
“Thank you,” I gruffed, my throat thick. I pushed to my feet, looking anywhere but her. “I hope you’re not in too much pain. I have to go now.”
She didn’t try to stop me, but I felt her watching me until I was out of her apartment, the door shut firmly between us.