Chapter 20 #2
“Help, someone! She’s sprung a leak!” He waved his free hand, and Reggie started our way, but Gilbert flicked a wrist. “We just messin’.”
Laughing, Reggie reversed and continued toward his truck.
I fiddled with my key chain, smoothing my thumb over Fern’s tiny photo. “You mean more to me than I let on. Thank you, Gilbert. For everything.”
“You’re welcome, kid. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
“Oh, wait a minute. I forgot something.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a copper-colored coin. “Your seven-month chip. I’m a little late getting it to you.”
I accepted the chip and rubbed my thumb over the raised words. To thine own self be true. “Thanks.”
“You keeping them somewhere close? So you can have a visual of what you’ve achieved?”
I smiled. “Yes, sir. I’ll add this one tonight.”
“I’m proud of you, Junie.” Gilbert got into his sports car and waited until I pulled out of the parking lot to leave.
Feeling better equipped to handle what was surely coming with Cy and the custody battle, I drove home with my shoulders no longer slumping. I thought about Maren and what she shared about attending therapy with her family. I decided to focus on finding a counselor first and worry about Cy later.
Once I arrived home, I took a moment to carry my chip and the painting upstairs to the workroom.
I’d work on that later, but for now this sudden need to find a therapist was top priority.
I opened my laptop and began researching counseling centers for family and substance abuse.
There were plenty of places and I started feeling hopeful, but then I got a glimpse of the cost and my optimism plummeted.
I couldn’t ask my brother to attend counseling and ask him to pay for it. No way would he ever go for that.
Slapping the lid shut, I went to bed. A restless night followed, tossing and turning, trying to figure out a way to swing the cost of therapy.
Three in the morning, I finally gave up on sleep and decided to call my mother. If I had to grow up and parent then perhaps it was time to make my parents do the same.
Switching on the lamp, I sat up and settled my back against the headboard, then dialed Mom.
“Junie? Honey, everything okay?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Obviously. It’s, what, two . . . no, three there?”
“Yeah.” I smoothed out the blanket. “I need to fix this mess with Cy.”
She didn’t speak right away and I feared she would figure out a way to dismiss my worries, or tell me about some rare plant they’d been able to propagate, but then she said, “What can I do to help?”
Perking up, I braved telling her about the therapy idea. “I’ve found a few places in Charleston that specialize in family therapy. I want to ask Cy to go with me, but I can’t afford it. And I’m scared he’ll say no anyway.”
Mom grew quiet again. “Send me the link to whichever place you’d like to go to. I’ll call Cy and see if I can talk him into it.”
“You’ll call him?”
“Yes. If he agrees, I’ll pay for it.” She sighed. “I feel like your father and I are partly to blame. I’m sorry we aren’t there. It’s just . . . we’re right in the middle of a big project and—”
“Y’all are always in the middle of something. You have been all my life.” I made myself shut up, worried she’d change her mind and not help.
A few beats passed in silence until Mom cleared her throat. “That sounded . . . resentful. I thought . . . I thought we were showing you and your brother it was okay to pursue your calling, to not let anything hold you back.”
“Even your own children?”
“You’re a fine one to talk.” Her response hit harder than a slap across the face.
“I’m trying to fix my messes. You and Dad have never owned up to making any!”
“Well, I’m so sorry we were such horrible parents!”
My entire body started shaking and I felt like I was going to throw up.
I jumped out of bed and paced around the room, trying to shake it off.
This was the first time I’d ever come close to confronting my mother, and it was making me physically sick.
I wondered if I could just backtrack and pretend we hadn’t gone there.
I stopped in front of the mirror and stared at Fern’s picture, remembering my purpose. The relationship with my parents may have been a lost cause, but I genuinely wanted and needed one with my brother and daughter.
“I’m sorry. I’m stressed and shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” I held my breath, silently begging her to take the bait.
“That’s understandable. I’m sorry too.”
I exhaled. “I really do appreciate you offering to help me with the therapy. Again, I’m really sorry for mouthing off.”
“It’s okay.” She sighed, sounding relieved to put the pin back into the Wilder family grenade too. “I’ll call Cy tomorrow. Why don’t you try to get some rest?”
“Yes, ma’am. Love you.”
“Love you too, Junie.”
Too keyed up to sleep, I went to the workroom to add my new chip to the painting.
I rummaged through my paint bin for white and yellows to help create a daisy, which was associated with motherhood.
This chip would remind me I was a good mother, and even though I’d made a terrible mistake, I could overcome it.
I’d prove it to my parents, to my brother, and especially to my daughter.