Chapter 1 #2
I laughed and almost spit food across the table.
“You’re a special kind of crazy.”
“I will not deny that, but you need to be honest with yourself and him about what this is really about. You’re scared.”
“I know, and I will, just not right now.”
“As long as you know because I promise from the way he was talking today, you only have a matter of time before he comes and snatches you up. That man is really in his feelings, and as cute as it is, it’s making his crazy surface. I’m almost positive that his crazy is way worse than mine.”
“Oh God, that’s bad then.”
“Shut up.” Kyori grinned big. “But true. I won’t deny I’m a little touched; so he’s a lot touched.”
We settled into a comfortable silence before I had to ask. “Is he really okay though? Like physically okay?”
“Go see him and find out for yourself.”
“No, I can’t do that. Not yet.”
Kyori rolled her eyes. “He’s sore, because like I said, he won’t take his pain meds, but none of the shots were life threatening. So yes, he’s fine. They’re releasing him tomorrow I think, so you better get your mind right because I’m sure you’ll be his first stop.”
“I’m sure.”
“Long as you know.” The devilish grin on her face had me convinced Amir had already made it clear to Kyori where he was going once they released him. It was inevitable that we’d see each other, so I had about twenty-four hours to decide what was next with us.
I managed to get through a few hours of work then decided to catch a nap, which was cut short when my mother called back to back, forcing me to acknowledge her.
We hadn’t talked in months. In fact, the last time I spoke to her was the day after my sister’s funeral and I was fine with not having contact.
In my eyes, it was better that way. Our relationship was strained and my parents were the reason why.
They loved to pretend like they didn’t play a role in what happened to my sister.
The drugs were what officially took her life but depression had ended it years before she took her first hit.
My parents simply chose not to deal with her condition because it meant they had to accept that the picture perfect family they presented to the world wasn’t so perfect after all.
My sister and I were raised in the suburbs in a two-parent home, where Olivia and Donald loved each other immensely.
They were good to each other and good to us.
Not the fakeness most families expressed.
We were a happy family. Honor roll, ballet classes, Sundays at church, and nightly family dinners.
It was great and I felt loved. My parents made me whole until…
My senior year of high school was when things began to change.
Neerah was the reason. She would sink into low places for days, sometimes weeks, at a time.
No one knew why, it just happened. She would shut the world out, barely able to crawl out of bed most days.
My parents’ answer to her depression was no reaction.
They would fuss and act as if it was just Neerah being difficult, not listening, refusing to be a part of the family, but even I could see it was deeper than teenage rebellion.
Our family outings began to exclude her during these times, and when she was forced to go places, mostly church, the members would whisper and question my parents about whether or not she was okay.
They in turn wrote it off as typical stubborn behavior.
Eventually, my sister had enough and she left home.
Weeks later, she was stripping and we didn’t see much of her.
She’d managed to enroll in college, even if she refused to go to classes and eventually dropped out.
She spent all of her time in clubs stripping.
This went on for years with no intervention from my parents.
It was like they pretended she didn’t exist.
Neerah knew something wasn’t right but she wasn’t strong enough to handle it on her own.
She begged my parents to help her but they refused because she refused to change her lifestyle.
Before long, she was getting high and that only made things worse.
She would have these dark conversations with me about not wanting to be here anymore.
It scared me so badly that I started begging my parents to help her.
I tried to get her checked into facilities that would help but without our parents’ support there were only half-ass options from shitty places or people who didn’t want to be involved.
I was positive Neerah would still be here had my parents accepted that she truly needed them.
So to this day, our relationship was complicated.
I blamed them and they blamed Neerah for not being strong enough to turn her life around.
How could she, though, when they turned their backs on her?
She needed more than I could give and they refused to step up.
It was why I had no interest in seeing my mother, but she insisted, so I sent her the address to Amir’s apartment and prayed I had the mental strength to play nice with this woman because she knew every button to push with me.
Now that someone was knocking on the door, her to be exact, I wasn’t quite sure I did.
“Hey, come in,” I muttered as soon as I had the door open and we were face to face. My mother smiled weakly and stepped around me, stopping just a few feet inside the apartment to look around.
“This place is nice…” Pausing to take in her surroundings once more, she gave me her real thoughts. “…and expensive. How can you afford this?”
“I can’t. It belongs to a friend who let me stay here for a while.”
My mother’s face expressed every question racing through her mind. “A friend? I assume a guy, what does he do, Learah Renee?”
Not wanting to delve into what I knew she was clearly thinking, I decided to move on and hoped she played along.
“Come sit. Can I get you anything?”
“No, I don’t need anything but some answers. What happened to sharing an apartment with Mo’nae?”
“She happened. We fight all the time and it wasn’t working out. I’m going to get my own place, but until then, I’ll be here. It’s not something I choose to discuss with you. Now, would you like to come sit or shall we just have our shouting match right here?”
“Shouting match?” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Is that all you can consider when you think of me, Learah?”
“It’s all we’ve done the past few times we’ve seen each other. Why should I expect today to be any different?”
“And whose fault is that, mine I suppose?”
“Ma, why are you here? I don’t have the energy to pacify your feelings right now. You’ve made it clear that you don’t care about mine, so what now?”
“I care, sweetheart. I just don’t know what you want from me. I keep trying but you keep pushing me away.”
“What I wanted was for you to realize that your daughter needed help. A lot of help and you refused to give it, so she’s not here anymore. What the hell do you want me to say? I miss her and I blame you.”
“Me? How do you blame me? I didn’t force her into that club or those drugs into her system. That was all her decision.”
“But why was it her decision? She needed help. She was depressed all the time and she begged you to take it seriously. You and Dad laughed it off. You told her to get over it and grow up. How the hell do you tell someone who’s struggling mentally and emotionally to balance their demons to grow up and think that’s enough or even okay?
You were more concerned with having to explain to your friends why your precious daughter needed professional help.
Do they even know? Does anyone know what her life was really like or are you still telling that same lie?
She went to college, went abroad to grad school, came home, and fell into the wrong crowd.
Do they know she was a stripper doing drugs daily or do they still believe the lie you told?
That it was a one-time thing, that she was forced into by that bad crowd she fell into? ”
My mother just stared blankly, occasionally blinking, but she didn’t respond, so I laughed smugly.
“That’s what I thought. You can go now. We can’t have a conversation about her until you’re willing to accept your role in why she’s no longer with us.
I’m not putting it all on you, or even remotely saying it was all your fault, because it wasn’t.
She knew what she was doing. Hell, she wanted to die.
She told me several times. I even told you, remember?
Or is that one of the things you choose to pretend didn’t happen?
Like you choose to pretend she was okay when she wasn’t.
I’m not doing this. I can’t move on with my life if I keep having to remember why she can’t move on with hers.
She’s gone. There’s not a damn thing I can do about how things ended for her, but what I won’t do is pretend like I don’t blame you for some of what happened. ”
After what felt like an eternity with the two of us facing off in a silent stare down, she finally pulled the reusable bag from her shoulder and extended it to me. “Here. I think this is for you. It came a few weeks ago.”
I frowned at the bag but accepted it, peeking inside and my heart dropped. When I lifted my eyes to my mother, she forced a smile. “I wanted to cancel. I considered it for a long time but just couldn’t.” Turning to leave, she stopped at the door to hand over her final thoughts.
“I know you’re upset with your father and me. We understand but I do love you and I loved your sister. I just didn’t know how to…” she paused and her shoulders sank, “We handled it all wrong and that’s on us, but it doesn’t mean we didn’t love her.”
She pulled the door open and I closed my eyes briefly, offering her one last thing before she left. “I love you too, Ma. Both of you. It’s just going to take time for me to be okay with all of this.”
Nodding softly, she accepted her fate and left.
I knew my parents were hurting, but hell, I was too.
At some point, we could all heal together as a family; but we had to work through our emotions in order to heal individually first, or at least I did.
Then maybe I could forgive them, but for now I needed time.
Taking the bag into the bedroom with me, I removed the long box and set it on the bed.
Popcorn and wine. It was a subscription Neerah had for me.
She used our parents’ credit card as sort of an inside joke.
Rebellion actually, but twice a year, I received a box with an exclusive wine and fancy gourmet popcorn to pair with it.
Seeing it now had a big smile on my face and my chest tight at the same time.
Just another sign that she loved me and would always be with me.
I guess that made it a little easier to keep going without her. Just a little.