Chapter Thirty-Four Painful Truths
RYLEE
Where does Mom keep her vodka? She isn’t a big drinker, but I know she has to be keeping something, somewhere — she does make the occasional cocktail, after all. Where is it?
The light flickers on and I jump, startled, whirling around to find Mom standing in the doorway in her bathrobe.
Oh… did I not have the light on? Weird…
“Rylee?” She frowns at me, clearly stunned to see me. “What are you doing here?”
I blink at her, unable to form words. I must look more like a gremlin than Gizmo right now. Standing in my mom’s kitchen, in the dark, a bottle of vodka in my hand, my hair a tangled mess and my face stained with tears.
The day has been a blur. I barely remember sobbing after Zander walked out, or panicking and getting an Uber to the airport to fly home right away. I was still crying when I got to the ticket counter and begged to be put on the first available flight to Nashville.
The flight, the cab ride here, even entering the house…
it’s all hazy. Drowned out by the agony that’s blinding me right now.
I don’t even know why I chose to come here instead of my place…
except I just needed my mom and my cat. I left Gizmo with her before going back to Denver, afraid all the back and forth would stress him out.
He hasn’t even come out to greet me, which only makes me feel shittier!
“I ruined it,” I whimper, my words slurring. “I ruined it, Mom.”
Mom hurries to me and takes the vodka from my hand and sets it on the counter.
“What did you ruin, sweetheart?” She cups my face in both her hands. “Grace called asking if I knew where you were. Did you turn your phone off?”
I nod. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t want to talk to anyone… ”
“Why not? What happened?”
My bottom lip trembles and a fresh wave of tears starts streaming down my cheeks.
“Zander… he read the article, but it wasn’t the right article,” I wail.
“I wrote a journal entry, and it got in the wrong folder and they published it! Why did they do that? Why did they publish it? It was so mean, Mom. I was so mean to Zander and now he hates me! He told me to leave and doesn’t want to see me ever again.
It’s all my fault! I hate myself, and I don’t want to lose him but he hates me too! ”
Mom’s eyes widen and she stares at me in horror. “Rylee, are you… are you drunk?”
“I needed the pain to stop,” I whimper. “I just needed to numb everything.”
She pulls me into a tight hug and runs her hand down my hair as she murmurs, “It’s okay, baby. Everything is going to be okay. Mommy’s here.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I bury my face into her shoulder and let the pain consume me.
Blinking open my eyes, I feel an immediate stabbing pain in my head. Groaning, I slowly sit up and am surprised to find myself in my bed in my childhood room. How’d I get here? I can’t remember… The last thing I can recall is crying in my mom’s arms in her kitchen. When did I end up here?
I climb out of bed, despite my throbbing head and nauseous stomach.
Pausing for several moments to make sure I don’t throw up, I make my way out of my room and head down to the kitchen.
I expect my mom to be making breakfast or getting ready for her day…
what I don’t anticipate is finding her sitting by the window next to the counter, crying softly.
“Mom?” I move to sit beside her, my heart twisting in my chest. “What’s wrong?”
Looking up at me, she wipes her tears away with the palm of her hand and releases a long breath.
“Sweetheart, we need to talk.”
I furrow my brow. “About what?”
Shit, is she going to lay into me about the article? I mean, I totally deserve it, but I don’t think I’m mentally prepared for the lecture yet.
“I need to tell you the truth about your family history, and… about your father and me.”
I stare at her, shocked. That… that is not what I expected.
“I… I don’t understand.”
She looks at me and the devastation and fear in her eyes steals my breath away.
“Last night… seeing you like that, drunk and even throwing up… terrified me. There’s something I have to tell you and I need you to listen to me very carefully.
I never told you this, but right around the time that I learned I was pregnant with Aiden, was also when I lost my own father, and my only parent, to alcohol poisoning.
” She pauses and I feel like my heart is in my throat.
I never knew this. She’d never said anything about her dad being an alcoholic before.
All I’ve ever known about my grandparents is that they passed away before I was ever born.
“My mom left when I was young and my dad struggled with addiction for years. It was awful. I grew up watching my dad choose alcohol over me again and again and again. Numbing his own pain. Slowly killing himself. Giving no thought to what it would mean to me to lose both my parents. I’ve always hated even the thought of alcohol because of that.
I knew his alcoholism had a risk of being genetic, but I thought…
hoped… that if the temptation wasn’t there, and neither were the struggles, that it could all be avoided. But I was wrong.”
“What does that mean?” I shake my head, feeling immediately defensive. “I don’t have a problem..”
She sighs sadly. “I first realized this with Aiden, and had hoped you were different, but after last night, I’m afraid that I was wrong.”
“Aiden?” I blink, baffled. “What are you talking about? What about Aiden?”
“I saw your brother going down that same path as my father when he was very young, and your father and I did everything we could to ensure it never happened.
He was so angry, about everything that happened between your dad and me.
We decided to send him to military school to get him away from any source of pain and give him the proper influence and support we clearly couldn't. I never saw that same pain with you… until last night, and the way you were using alcohol to numb it shook me to my core.”
I swallow and shake my head. I don’t like this… I don’t want to hear about this, but I can’t help my curiosity.
“What does this have to do with you and Dad?” I snap. “What’s the point of all this?”
She holds my gaze before admitting, “When I lost my father, I was pregnant, scared, and alone. You already know some parts of our story and how Aiden was the result of what should have been one night of college fun. Your dad and I didn’t even really know each other.
Regardless, your Dad wanted to do the right thing and be with me.
Wanted to be a family, and even though I didn’t love him, I didn’t have any other family, nor the financial means to take care of a child on my own, so I agreed and married him. It’s something I never should’ve done.”
I stare at her, stunned. This isn’t what I expected her to say. I always thought… I thought it was Dad who didn’t love her…
“Dad’s the one who left,” I insist sharply. “He’s the one who abandoned us and went back to Ireland. Got a new family… ”
“No, he didn’t abandon you. I just didn’t give him a choice. He deserved so much more, and you deserved two parents who loved each other unconditionally. I wanted to be independent, and I also wanted to find true love. I got one of my wishes.”
I start pacing back and forth, trying to make sense of what she’s telling me.
“He never said a word to me,” I mutter. “He never let on that you were the one who didn’t want to be with him - he always let me believe he just gave up and left. Why? Why wouldn’t he try to tell me the truth?”
I focus back in on Mom, who’s watching me expectantly. She’s nervous, I can tell. Her lips are trembling and she’s clutching her hands together in her lap.
“Because he’s a good man and didn’t want to do anything to put a wedge between us,” she replies, “and I… I was too much of a coward to admit the truth to you.”
Anger explodes inside me. “So you drove Dad off not because he wasn’t the perfect man but because he wasn’t this imaginary true love of yours?
Then you tell me never to settle and to find my perfect man.
Do you realize how messed up that is? I kept thinking the perfect man is someone who would fight for me the way dad never did. ”
Mom presses her lips together and looks torn before she murmurs, “I know, sweetheart, I know. I always told you not to settle because I didn’t want you to settle for less than that kind of love, more than anything else.
But last night, when you were crying and rambling to me about how you’ll never find the perfect man the way I want you too, I realized how much I’ve messed it all up.
You obviously love Zander and he loves you.
I could tell the moment you two walked through my doors on Thanksgiving.
It was what I had always searched for, and you found it, my baby girl, and I couldn’t have been prouder. ”
Tears fill my eyes and I struggle not to let them fall. She’s saying everything I’ve been too afraid to really admit to, and it’s hitting me hard. I feel raw and exposed. Seen in a way I haven’t felt seen by her in a long time.
But it hurts… it hurts so bad…
“Mom,” I whimper. “I don’t know… I can’t… I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”
“Tell me, Rylee. How exactly did your company get that journal entry?”
I swallow, furrowing my brow in concentration as I think about it. “I don’t know. I… I was drunk. I must have saved it in the wrong folder.”
“Why were you drunk?”
Because I was hurt and didn’t want to feel anything. “Because I wanted to numb myself to the pain Zander caused me when we got in a fight.”
“Exactly.” She lets out a long breath, her shoulders slumping.
“You were drinking to numb yourself, trying to escape your real life for a little while, but sweetheart, life… it never gets easier. It’s hard.
People struggle, even with true love to guide them.
I want you to think long and hard about this, and consider that you may need some help.
You need to face your problems head on, because Rylee, how can Zander love you, truly love you, if you don’t love yourself? ”
When she finishes, I can only stare at her for several long moments. She’s unloaded so much so quickly, that I’m struggling to process it all, but what I do understand is that things between her and Dad were far more complicated than I ever imagined.
And Zander… oh Zander… what have I done?
Something inside me snaps and I can’t hold it together anymore.
I let out a sob as tears stream down my face.
Mom leans toward me with open arms and I fall into them.
I’m so angry at her, but I also need her comfort.
She holds me tight, running a hand through my hair as she coos soft, comforting words.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she whispers. “It’s okay, just cry. I’m so sorry, my baby girl. So terribly sorry.”
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. It’s like everything I thought I knew about my life has just been shattered, and I don’t know how to pick the pieces back up.
How can I ever get Zander to forgive me? How can I explain myself and my messed up background when I don’t understand it myself?
We stay like this for long moments until I’m gasping for breath and shuddering against her. Eventually, I manage to lift my head and meet her gaze.
“I need time to think,” I insist. “I need time to let this all sink in.”
She nods. “Yes, of course.”
Grabbing my hand, she gives it a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you go get dressed? I think we’re in need of some breakfast and retail therapy. It’ll give you time to relax and clear your head. How does that sound?”
I blink, my heart heavy, but then I nod. “Okay. We can do that. I’ll be right back.”
Standing, I continue to smile at her as I hurry out of the kitchen and back to my room. Once the door shuts behind me, I don’t get ready to go out. Instead, I move to sit on the edge of my bed and drop my head into my hands.
A million thoughts are rushing through my head. My Mom, my Dad… Zander.
What Mom said about her father…
My mind races as I recall every time I pushed away any guy I’ve been with, testing them, to see if they were worth it. Perfect. If they would fight for me. Zander is the only man who’s always been worth it and now I don’t know if he will ever forgive me.
I need to figure out a way to fix this. Even if he doesn't want to see me. Even if he never forgives me. I need to fix the hurt I’ve caused him, and I need him to know how sorry I am.
How this all started… with my dad. Of what I thought about him. I was wrong. I was so, so wrong. I wish I’d known the truth. I wouldn’t have pushed Dad away all these years. We could’ve had a real relationship.
Raising my head, I know what I have to do. If I’m going to start the healing process, I need to dig into the source of my pain.
Grabbing my phone, I suck in a deep breath, gather my courage, and dial my dad’s number.