Chapter 37
Ivy
It’s one of those gorgeous days where nothing goes wrong.
Where the sun is bright but not too hot and the breeze dances around my shoulders instead of whipping my hair into my face.
Work was easy. I’m home with time to spare before Nell gets off the bus.
Micah’s visiting his friend Tucker, but he’s been sending me dirty texts ever since he left, and I can’t wait to surprise him with a little gift when he gets home.
Me…
On my knees…
Wearing his favorite thing…
Nothing.
After our discussion last night, I didn’t think I’d fall asleep, but I was out like a light.
There’s just something about sleeping next to him that feels like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be.
Probably because I am. We were good together when we were kids and we’re better together now.
We’ll probably be even better for years to come, though I feel crazy thinking like that.
Maybe Micah’s right. Maybe I should consider going back to college. Maybe I’ll use this sliver of free time to investigate schools. I have no idea if it’s feasible given my age and income, but there’s no harm in looking. And certainly no harm in understanding what it takes to apply as an adult.
Dang. That feels good. Like really, really freaking amazing.
Better than I thought it would. Why did I fight Micah so hard on this?
He obviously has my best interest at heart.
Nell’s too. He’s been wonderful for us from the word go.
He forgave me when anyone else would have held a grudge.
He loved Nell from the second he laid eyes on her. I can trust him. I should trust him.
No. I do trust him.
As I climb the steps, a call comes in. My mother’s contact photo fills the screen and I stare, sad to feel dread as the phone vibrates away.
I love her. Dearly. And she loves me. But every time I talk to her, I feel like I’m talking to Dad instead.
I have no idea if she means what she says or if she’s only saying what he wants her to say.
With a deep breath, I steel myself and accept the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet Ivy! How are you, my darling?” Her voice cracks and I can just see her, swallowing down any emotion that doesn’t require smiling.
I used to be the same way. Because if I ever stopped smiling, I’d start screaming.
“I just got home from work and Nell will be walking through the door from school any minute.” I lean on the porch rail and stare at the sky, blue upon blue upon blue with puffs of white clouds floating past.
“Work?” Mom sounds like she’s never heard the word before. “What an adventure you’re on.”
It’s not lost on me that instead of telling her how I am, I explained what I’m doing…
and it’s enough to satisfy her. She won’t press the issue.
She never does. She’ll toss around a few useless platitudes, she’ll talk about how happy she is, how good I am, painting everything in a sickly-sweet light, then tell me she loves me and say goodbye.
It’s the only way she survives. Anything else and she’d be forced to admit how miserable she is.
“I got a job as a receptionist at a psychologist’s office.
It’s not exactly my dream job, but it’s dream adjacent.
And who knows, maybe I can still go back to school.
” I laugh lightly, then turn to lean my back against the railing, catching my reflection through the window.
My hair is down and my hips are full and I look more like myself than I have in a long time.
“You’re really putting down roots out there.”
I turn away from my reflection. Mom does this all the time.
Walks right up to the point, then leaves it hanging, forcing me to make the connection myself.
When I was younger, I thought she did it on purpose, to teach me to think through problems myself.
But lately, I’ve wondered if it’s because Dad wants her to say something she doesn’t agree with.
“I’m happy here. Why not put down roots?”
“I miss you, Ivy. And oh, how I miss little Nell. You two are the light of my life.” Mom’s voice cracks again and my heart breaks.
Does she even realize how unhappy she is?
“I miss you too, Mom.”
After the time I’ve spent with Micah, after seeing how different and alive Grandma is now that Grandpa’s gone, after coming to terms with how I felt with Julian…
my mother’s behavior is so clear to me. The slow erosion of her personality into a smiling automaton.
I was headed down that path, and I swore I never noticed it happening, but there was part of me that knew.
A part that screamed and screamed, trapped deep inside, desperate to have a voice again. Desperate to have a choice again.
Mom must feel the same way. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
“Can I ask you something?” The wind picks up, blowing my hair across my face, and I pinch the phone between my ear and my shoulder to tuck a wayward lock behind my ear.
“Always, my girl. Anything. Ask away.” She sounds like she’s smiling in hopes of hiding how nervous she is—a tactic I know well.
“Are you happy?”
There’s a pause on her end, then a tight laugh.
“Of course I’m happy. I’m married to a wonderful man who loves me very much.
I have this lovely life because of him. How could I not be happy when I’m so blessed?
It’s you I’m worried about, my darling. You and Nell.
You’ve upended your life and I so wish you’d come home.
I love you and miss you more than you know.
I need to know you’re okay…” She trails off and I consider letting the conversation end there.
But I’m tired of swallowing my thoughts to avoid hard conversations.
“I upended my life because I wasn’t happy with Julian. He…” Where do I even start to make her understand?
“Julian provided a lovely life for you and your daughter, Ivy.” I don’t know if Mom’s trying to convince me of that, or herself as well. “He’s a good man.”
“That depends on your definition of good, I guess. He made me feel like I could never do anything right. Like I had to walk on eggshells around him. Like I couldn’t survive without him. Like he was the only reason I’m a functioning adult.”
It feels so good to say these things. Sure, I’ve said them to Grandma, but only after she helped me to see how true they are.
Talking to Mom about it feels like I’m finally owning it.
Finally taking responsibility. Finally starting to grow out of that poor broken girl I was into the strong woman I want to be.
“Ivy…” Mom sighs. “I didn’t want the conversation to come to this, but with all due respect, you couldn’t survive without him. You’re too much like me. Where would you be without Julian?”
Woah. Okay then. I wasn’t expecting that. Not from her.
“Then what am I doing now, Mom?” I ask, heading inside the house because suddenly the sun is too bright and the wind is too strong. “I’m not with him and I seem to be handling everything pretty well.”
“But are you handling things well? Or are you leaning on someone else and letting him do it for you?”
I look around the kitchen, filled with things that aren’t mine, then turn in place, taking in the living room, the pool outside the windows. I’m not as on my own as I’d like, but I have a job. A voice. My situation with Micah is nothing like when I was with Julian.
“It’s complicated,” I say, pacing from the wall of windows in the kitchen to the stairs.
“It isn’t, though. You use people, Ivy. I love you to pieces, but you were more than happy to let your father support you and Nell until you met Julian.
And then you were just as happy to let him support you until you got tired of him and moved on to my mother.
And now? You’re back with Micah, living in his house, doing the same thing all over again. ”
I freeze, frowning, my knuckles white as I grip the stair rail. “How do you know I’m living with Micah?”
“Did you really think your dad would be okay, not knowing where you are? As soon as Julian got your address, we looked the house up. When it was clear you couldn’t afford a place like that on your own, we did some digging.
It wasn’t hard to find out who owned the place and honestly Ivy, I was so disappointed.
Micah? Really? After everything he did to you… ”
“I don’t know what to say to that, Mom. I really don’t.” I run a trembling hand through my hair. “Wait. Yes, I do know what to say. I’m a grown woman and you need to respect my boundaries.”
“Boundaries,” Mom scoffs, like the very idea is ridiculous. “We’re worried about you, Ivy. You threw everything good away. You spat in the face of the man who loves you. Embarrassed your father and me. And now, you’re back with the man who ruined your life.”
“Micah didn’t ruin my life.”
“Why are you a receptionist for a psychologist instead of an actual psychologist?”
I can’t believe she has the nerve to ask that question. She knows I didn’t have a choice.
“Because I had Nell and didn’t have the time to go to school. Dad—”
“And you had Nell because…”
I’ve never heard Mom so declarative. I don’t know how to handle this version of her.
“Because Micah and I made a mistake.” My grip on the phone tightens. “Plenty of people make the same mistake and—”
“But he’s living his life without consequence.”
“That’s because he didn’t know! He didn’t know I was pregnant.”
“How convenient for him.”
I explain the situation, my voice rising as years’ worth of pent-up frustration and fear jolts to the surface. “He never saw my texts, Mom.”
“I can’t believe you fell for that story.” She sounds so much like Julian. I hate it. I hate hearing her sound like that. Judgmental. Hateful. Condescending. “If he wasn’t going to have a phone, don’t you think the first thing he should have done was tell you?”