Chapter 42 #2
“Yeah,” Jonah agrees, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “It has been hard.”
We don’t have to say it; I know what we’re all thinking about. The times she didn’t come home until well past midnight. When she quit her job and went to Paris with a man she’d only just met because he might be the one. All the birthdays we didn’t have cake because she had lost yet another job.
I hate that I still remember, but I also know that part of grieving her is accepting the totality of who she was, both an effervescent, free-spirited woman who stood up for me and supported the people she loved, and a very imperfect mother.
Because like Liam said, sometimes the people we love act like assholes.
But it doesn’t mean we can’t continue to love them or forgive them.
Then again, maybe forgiveness isn’t for my mom; maybe it’s for me. So I can step into the next chapter of my life, free from the pressure of having to remember my mom as perfect, and instead remember her as a complex human being, flaws and all, the way we all are.
I slide Mom’s bracelet off my wrist and clasp it around Bella’s. “I want you to have this,” I tell her.
Bella’s eyes widen. “But you love that bracelet.”
“I know, but Mom would want you to have it, especially today,” I add. “She would be so happy for you and Chris.”
Bella’s lips fold together and I think she might refuse, but then she lets out a tremulous smile. “Thank you,” she says. Then in a whisper, she adds, “Maybe I’ll wear it on my wedding day.”
Bella’s eyes fill with tears, and I allow myself to feel the full force of my mom’s absence.
Of all the milestones and moments she’ll miss and how each one will come with fresh waves of heartache.
And then I let myself feel a surge of hope because even though she won’t be there, we will still be able to carry pieces of her with us.
“I’m still wrestling with a lot of complicated feelings towards her,” Bella says, wiping her eyes.
“But I’ve been talking to a therapist and it’s really helped me.
” She pauses, her eyes dipping to the floor before she says, “I think for a long time, I thought I could handle it on my own, but then my grades started slipping. It was really hard, but Chris encouraged me to get help and I did.”
“How has it been?” I ask. “Seeing someone, I mean?”
“Some days are harder than others, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the pain doesn’t go away; it just feels more manageable.” She hesitates before she says, “And that it’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to bear this burden all on your own.”
Her words tighten around me like a too-small belt, constricting my flow of blood.
All this time I’ve been silently struggling, trying to manage the pain of grief on my own, pretending I’m fine.
But I’m not. I haven’t been for a while.
And maybe Bella’s right; maybe it’s okay to ask for help. The same way Liam did.
That thought gives me a quiet burst of hope.
“We should talk about Mom sometime,” I say after a minute. “The good. The bad. All of it. Just the three of us.”
Bella bobs her head in agreement. “We could go to that pho place on Aurora that she always liked.”
“That’s a great idea,” I say.
“I’d like that,” Jonah agrees.
We haven’t had a conversation like this in a long time, maybe ever, and I’m not sure we know what to do next. But then Bella lunges forward, wrapping us in a big bear hug, squeezing us tight.
“I’m glad we talked about this,” she says, pressing the top of her head against my neck. “I’m glad we have each other.”
“Me too,” I tell her, and I mean it. We haven’t worked through the mountains of grief and distance between us, but it’s a start, and maybe for right now, that’s all we need.
We hug a beat longer until Jonah declares, “Okay, okay, that’s enough,” and we break away, laughing.
“So,” Bella says, turning to me, “are you gonna spill the tea on you and Liam?”
“What tea? I already told you everything.”
“Not everything.” Bella exchanged a look with Jonah. “You said things were getting better, so what happened? Why did he leave?”
I shift my weight. It feels weird to open up to my brother and my sister about the nuances of my marriage, but I guess if we’re going to be more open and honest with each other, now is a good time to start.
“Things were good,” I tell them. “But this morning he got a call that he needs to go to London for a family emergency. He asked me to go with him, but it felt so fast. We were just starting to work things out, and rushing off to the other side of the world together felt like a massive step. I couldn’t do it. ”
“So where does that leave you now?” Jonah asks.
“I want to be together,” I admit. “But I’m also scared to jump back in so quickly. What if nothing’s different? What if we fall into old patterns again? What if I’m just doing what Mom always did?”
“I get that you’re scared, and those feelings are totally valid,” Bella says, choosing her words carefully. “But do you still love him?”
My breath snatches like I’ve missed a step.
“I can’t think of a time I won’t,” I tell her.
“But what if loving each other isn’t enough?
I mean, Mom loved a lot of different men, and it broke her heart every single time.
I’m not resilient like her. I can’t just jump headfirst and potentially get hurt again and again and again. ”
Bella nods, considering. “I understand where you’re coming from, but do you really think Liam is like one of Mom’s shitty boyfriends?”
Her eyes catch mine, and it feels like there’s a giant bowling ball in my stomach, weighing me down.
I think back to when Liam and I first got together nine years ago, how resistant I’d been to falling for him because I was afraid of getting hurt, of replicating the same relationship patterns I’d seen with my mom, but Liam had shown me he was different, that our relationship was different.
Yes, things fell apart in the aftermath of my mom’s death.
And yes, Liam hadn’t shown up for me when I needed him.
But had there also been a part of me that had anticipated, perhaps even expected, that Liam would hurt me?
That he was no different than my mom’s shitty boyfriends?
Because that’s what I always believed would happen?
Because that’s the pattern I’d come to learn, the same way Liam had come to learn that it was better to bury the hard stuff and not talk about it?
That thought shoots through me, straight down to my splintered center, gripping me with a force I don’t expect when I hear a soft rap at the door. My insides lurch.
Is it Liam? Did I somehow conjure his existence just by thinking about him?
Almost trancelike, I move past my siblings toward the door, my heart tapping out hopeful currents. But when I open the door, it’s not Liam standing there. It’s Gramps.
“Roslyn. Can we talk?”