June, this year #3
I’m not entirely sure how my mother is paying for all this — not to mention the not-cheap train ticket to Chicago and back — but on the phone she had assured me it was all on her.
So, I order my favorite breakfast of eggs benedict, along with coffee and orange juice, and listen as she tells me all about her new place in Cleveland, where she moved last week.
“It’s such a sweet little apartment, Millie.
It’s in the basement of Crystal’s house, but the back French doors open up to the yard so it doesn’t feel like a basement — lots of light!
” She beams. “Two little bedrooms and a living-kitchen area, as well as a kind of den that I’m using as a studio for my jewelry.
Crystal and Keith live in the house above, but they’re hardly ever home — he’s always taking her off on cruises and whatever.
She said I can work at her store to cover her any time she’s away, which is a lot.
And she’s given me this whole beautiful French oak cabinet near the checkout to sell my jewelry!
” She claps her hands together. “It’s a pretty cool gig, this one, Millie. ”
I nod at her through a big mouthful. It really does sound like Mom is finally getting it together.
I don’t know how her life in Baltimore was, but the Mom I know, who still lives in Indianapolis, hasn’t been doing so great.
A string of disappointing men, and never a truly permanent home.
Also a jewelry designer, but with a crappy online store that she has no idea how to market.
Maybe now that this version of Mom has a space in a fashion boutique, her business will take off a little more.
The Millie in this life could surely help make that happen.
Although, given that this Millie is a drug addict who has never worked at Magnolia, maybe she’s not as hot on Instagram marketing as I am.
“What do you think, hun?” she asks. “Want to give Cleveland a try with me?”
I wipe my lips, nodding slowly. “I think it would be good for me. A fresh start, until I can get a job and figure out my future.” I laugh, a little humorlessly. “I clearly don’t have much in Chicago to stay for.”
She raises an eyebrow. “No boyfriend, or anything? Not been seeing anybody?”
Honestly, I have no idea if there’s a man in this life. No cellphone to check messages, no home to figure out if I’m living with someone. But, given the desperate state of my life in this world and my recent rehab stint, I sincerely doubt it.
My mind jumps to Ben. Does he blame me for what happened to his parents as much as Bonnie apparently does? I can’t imagine he’s in my life at all, these days.
And I sure as hell don’t want to look him up and have him see me like this.
I take a sip of my coffee. “No, Mom,” I reply. “No boyfriend here. No money, no possessions. I’m a blank slate.”
Mom screws up her nose. “I could kill that asshole landlord you had. Breaking in and selling all your stuff just because you got behind on rent, and then kicking you out anyways? Who does that? What an asshole.”
Jesus. So that’s why I’ve got nothing.
I can’t even imagine what must’ve happened to me after that, out on the street with a drug problem and no money or possessions.
Thankfully, I have a father in Ireland who may be useless and unreliable but, having turned his construction business around, has deep pockets again.
Not to mention, a guilty conscience about leaving me and moving back to Dublin.
Mom is still talking. “Maybe you’ll meet somebody nice in Cleveland. Somebody steady, who can help get you back on your feet. You’ve always had such trouble with relationships — even before everything went downhill.”
I bristle a little at that. It’s not like I was set a great example.
“Well, that’s not much of a surprise, is it, Mom?
” I reply. “You always ran from men. Dad included. Yeah, he left for Ireland, but only after you’d pushed him away with your affair.
No wonder I’m scared of commitment. I know you didn’t mean to, Mom, but it was your behavior that taught me to be afraid of relationships.
” I shake my head. “I’ve always either chosen the wrong men, so that they’d never get close enough to be an issue, or men that worshiped me, and then I’d be the one to run, just like you always did. ”
I’m talking about Rufus and Chris, in my own world, of course. But I’m pretty sure the same applies to this drug-addict version of Millie. I’d be willing to bet that, when I was at my most vulnerable, it was some sexy, dangerous guy in Baltimore who first got me into . . . whatever it was.
Mom places an overly bejeweled hand on mine.
“I’m truly sorry we didn’t show you a better model, sweetheart.
But I’ve been working hard on myself, and realizing I need to figure out life on my own terms before I can have a healthy relationship.
Maybe that’s true for you, too. Maybe we can figure it out together, and then move on. ”
She pats my hand, and pulls back. “Okay, sweetie, let’s get the check. I couldn’t afford a hotel, so I’m on an afternoon train back to Cleveland, and I wanna see the Bean before I go home. Let’s do some tourist stuff and figure out when you’ll be able to come live with me.”
We walk the mile or so to Millennial Park to admire the Bean sculpture, and spend the rest of the morning exploring the waterfront parks and Field Museum.
Over an exorbitantly priced salad at an outside café at lunch, we agree that Mom will buy me a train ticket and I — or, as far as I’m concerned, the other Millie — will join her in Cleveland when my stay at the shelter runs out at the end of the month.
I walk Mom the two miles back to Union Station, and see her off on the train with a warm hug. Today has been about the best my relationship with my mother has felt in more than a decade, and I’ll take it.
Back at the shelter, I ask Susan for a pad of paper and a Bic, and — like my mother did to me — write the other me a physical letter.
I tell her that she might not remember this twenty-four hours, but that she connected with her mother, and it was pretty good.
I tell her about the new chance she has to start fresh, and hopefully stay clean, in Cleveland.
It’s not a perfect situation, and will require a lot of patience to live with Mom again, but it’s the best option right now.
I just hope she’ll take it.
I fold the paper into the pocket of the hoodie where she’ll find it when she is back in her body, outside the Masons’ old house in Lake Bluff. Which is where I need to go now, to reset.
Hopefully to find a life better than this one.