Chapter Nineteen #3
“Can I?” Jeanette asked, reaching across the small space between them, stopping short to get Lane’s consent.
Lane looked at her hand before nodding. Jeanette took her hands as they both cried.
This moment wasn't about forgiveness; it was Jeanette opening a door between them that had been sealed for years.
Inside it held rage, addiction, abandonment, and all the words Jeanette had never been sober enough or brave enough to say.
“I didn’t have the tools to break the curse,” Jeanette said through tears, “But that’s not an excuse for being a shit parent. You deserved a mama who came looking for you. I failed you in every way a mother can fail a child, Lane.”
Lane bent forward, crying into their joined hands.
“I was right there,” she spoke quietly.
“I know,” her mother uttered softly.
“You didn’t come,” Lane cried out.
“I should have,” Jeanette sobbed.
“I needed you,” Lane found the strength to say.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so so so sorry,” her mother said.
Lane cried until her chest hurt because she’d finally gotten an answer to questions that plagued her for years, and she didn’t have to confront Jeanette to get them.
Lane thought explanations would make her angrier, but the truth had been offered with accountability and remorse.
Her mother gave shape to the monster without making the monster innocent.
Jeanette had been hurt, and in turn she hurt Lane, while both things were true, one didn’t cancel the other.
Eventually, Lane’s tears stopped, and Jeanette let her hands go as she wiped her face with unsteady fingers.
Lane breathed and said something she never thought she’d say to Jeanette. “I’m willing to work at a relationship.”
Jeanette froze, waiting for the catch.
“I’m willing to work at forgiveness,” Lane continued, “But only if you stay clean.”
“I will,” Jeanette spoke, nodding so fast her braids shifted over her shoulders.
“No, listen to me,” Lane’s voice steadied, “I can’t be your reason for sobriety. I can be a reason you want a better life, but I refuse to be the thing holding you together. That’s not fair to me, and it won’t keep you clean,” Lane finished.
“My counselor said something like that,” Jeanette agreed.
“Your counselor is smart,” Lane agreed, causing Jeanette to chuckle.
“You have to stay in treatment, continue your therapy, and find a sponsor. You don’t get to skip steps because I showed up today,” Lane spoke, asserting her boundaries.
“I won’t,” her mother agreed.
“And if you relapse, you tell the truth, but please don’t disappear on me. I have faith in you, but you’re human, and this is a new journey. So if you stumble, speak up so we can help you,” Lane added.
Jeanette nodded, crying again. “Okay.”
“And if you ever let another man come before your relationship with me, we’re done,” Lane let her mother know.
Jeanette’s face held shame as she answered simply with an okay. Lane looked down at the reason she had shown up, Jeanette’s application.
“You still want the job?” Lane asked.
“I’d love the job,” her mother answered eagerly. “But, Lane, you don’t have to do that…I don’t deserve—”
“This isn’t about deserving,” Lane said before continuing, “This is about work. You said you wanted to give back, so I want to make sure you have the chance to give back. I think it’ll be good for you, for me, for us.”
Jeanette’s eyes welled again.
Lane held up one hand. “This is not a shortcut into my life. You’ll still interview with Marisol like everybody else.
I’m starting you part-time until you get used to how things work, and then we can move you to full-time.
You’ll be paid biweekly, so we have to get you a bank account, and I’d like to introduce you as my mother,” she let her mother know.
“Okay,” Jeanette answered, tears still sliding down her face.
“Background check consent, employment eligibility, availability, and emergency contact forms,” Lane informed her mother as she slid the onboarding paperwork across the small table.
Jeanette touched the papers like they might disappear and Lane’s own eyes burned all over again.
Jeanette picked up the pen with a shaking hand to fill out all the paperwork Lane slid to her.
Lane watched her mother write her name at the top of the first form, and she thanked God for the serenity and clarity he’d allowed her to have today.
The past she had with her mother wasn’t healed or forgiven, but seeing her fight to be sober and accountable opened the door for them to find healing together.
Her heart still hurt, and the past still hurt, but in this moment the hurt didn’t feel like the only thing in the room—hope sat there too, uninvited but not unwelcome.
Lane, who had built an entire life out of refusing to wait for anyone to come back for her, noticed herself watching her mother put pen to paper and wondering if maybe some people did return.
Not the way they should have, but in time to meet the woman that was blossoming into someone truly beautiful.