Chapter Thirty-Two #2
Mom sat back and folded her arms. “It means this is what you do. You pull away the second things stop being light and easy. The moment there’s the tiniest bit of friction, you bolt.”
A long silence settled between us. The waves crashed a little harder in the distance, as if they could sense what was coming.
“Can you two excuse us a minute?” Mom asked, eyes still locked on mine.
Exchanging a glance, they stood, Shira reaching for her half-full mai tai before she shuffled away.
Izzy grabbed her rum punch and leaned in close to the table. “Am I okay to leave you two?”
Neither of us replied.
“I think this needs to happen . . . for both of you. But remember, no matter what’s said, deep down, you love each other. Oh, and also, the people on the beach didn’t come here for your emotional fireworks, so try not to disturb their margarita naps.”
As soon as she was gone, I leaned forward, jaw tight, trying to keep in mind what Izzy had said about keeping things to a reasonable decibel. “You want to talk about pulling away? You want to talk about leaving? I mean, you and Dad basically wrote the manual on that.”
She blinked. “Elliot—”
“So, what? You get to air it all out, but if I do the same, suddenly I’m the one who’s out of line?”
“Oh, I think you do plenty of airing out,” Mom said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You mean, aside from that very pointed toast you gave last night in front of all our guests? Or how about every morning when you go on your show and turn on that mic and tell the world exactly how Dad and I screwed you up . . . like it’s .
. . like it’s entertainment or something,” she replied, her voice catching slightly.
“Well, if the shoe or show fits.”
“That’s not fair,” she murmured, swallowing hard. “We did the best we knew how.”
“If that was your best, then I guess thanks for the material.”
The look on her face made it clear I’d gone a step too far, and I immediately regretted it.
“Do you know why you never win at mah-jongg, El?”
I shrugged. “Why don’t you go ahead and enlighten me.”
“It’s because you don’t play to win.”
“Well, that clears it all up. Thanks, Mom.”
“You play defensively. Always watching everyone else’s moves, worrying about how their choices will mess up yours.”
I let out a short laugh. “So? Isn’t that the point of the game?”
Mom shook her head. “No. The point is to build your hand. Play your game. To take risks. But you’re too busy protecting yourself to ever go after what you really want.
” She sighed, took my hands into hers and looked me square in the eyes.
“I knew, I mean, of course I knew from what you shared on the air that you were angry, but I guess I never realized you were this angry,” she said.
“I’m not angry, Mom. I think I’ve just learned to put up walls.
It’s how I keep myself from completely falling apart.
When Matty cheated, it wrecked me, but it didn’t sink me.
You know why? Because somewhere deep in my gut, I expected it.
I expected to be let down. Dad left us, both of us.
And you . . . you were always chasing after happiness in someone else, like I wasn’t enough. ”
Her lower lip trembled, but I couldn’t stop now. A tear slid down her cheek, and she swiped it away, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“Because you never asked. You were so wrapped up in your own pain that you never saw mine.”
“I didn’t know how to be happy,” she finally said.
“Not on my own. And definitely not after your dad left. I’d put so much of myself into building our life together and our little family that I didn’t know who or what I was once he was gone.
I was twenty-two, Elliot. With a kid and rent due and this .
. . crushing silence that filled the house every time I walked in.
And it reminded me so much of my own childhood, I could barely breathe. ”
I glanced up at her. I’d never heard that part before.
She took a sip of her lemonade and expelled a long breath before continuing.
“My mom—your grandma—suffered from depression for most of my life. I’d come in from school and the TV would be on, a pot of something boiling over, and she’d be sitting in the dark like she was just watching the shadows move across the walls.
I told myself, swore to myself, I’d never feel that kind of emptiness again.
But then I did. After your father left.”
I swallowed hard, her words hitting like a stone dropped in my stomach.
“So I looked for something . . . anything to fill that space. Attention, affection, men who made promises they had no business making. I didn’t know how to show up the way you needed me to.
” She paused, her voice shaking and lashes wet.
“And I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry I couldn’t be the perfect mother for you. ”
“I didn’t need perfect,” I finally managed. “I just needed to know I mattered.”
Her tears spilled down her cheeks, and she quickly blotted them away with the linen napkin on her lap.
“You did. You do matter. I’m sorry I didn’t put you first. I didn’t know how.
I was too busy looking for someone to fix me.
When I met Keith, I wasn’t looking for someone to save me.
Not anymore. I was looking for love. The right kind of love.
The kind that respects who you are and your boundaries.
The kind that’s patient, encouraging, and unconditional.
The kind that doesn’t ask you to shrink or hide parts of yourself.
That’s what I want now. For me, and I want that for you too, my darling. ”
I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but the emotion sat there, solid and unyielding. “Keith’s nice, Mom,” I managed. “We were partnered up at zip-lining, and you’re right, he’s different from the others. I didn’t expect to like him, but I actually do.”
Relief softened her expression. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
She hesitated, then said, “El, I’m sorry I wasn’t more sensitive to what you were going through with Matty being here. You put up such a good front, but I should’ve known it was just that . . . a front. I let myself believe that meant you were okay.”
“I’ve been anything but okay,” I said. “But I didn’t know how to ask for help. I just . . . I wanted you to see me without me having to say it.”
Her voice cracked. “I didn’t. And I’m sorry. But I see you now. I do.”
I reached across the table, and she met me halfway, her fingers curling tightly around mine before she pulled me into a hug that felt like both an apology and a promise.
Izzy and Shira ambled into sight up the beach, and I waved them over, cuing it was safe to return. Putting the tiles back into the set’s hard case, I gave Izzy a quick look implying that Mom and I were okay, and she slid on her flip-flops that were still kicked under the table.
“We should start heading back so we have time to freshen up before the wedding,” Izzy said as she slung the mah-jongg bag over her shoulder.
“Izzy’s right, Mom. You’re the bride. And you’re marrying a great guy. You deserve to feel amazing tonight.”
Mom met my gaze and linked her arm with mine as we started walking back toward the hotel, the salty air wrapping around us like the promise of a new beginning.