-Two
Of all the secrets I’ve held over the last few months, I’m the saddest
about keeping everything from my mother. I don’t know how she’ll
take it. I know she’ll be excited about the pregnancy, but I don’t know
how she’ll feel about me and Ryle splitting up. She loves Ryle. And
based on her history with these types of situations, she’ll probably find
it very easy to excuse his behavior and try and convince me to take
him back. And in all honesty, that’s part of the reason I’ve been
stalling this, because I’m scared there’s a chance she might be
successful.
Most days I’m strong. Most days I’m so mad at him that the
thought of ever forgiving him is ludicrous. But some days I miss him
so much I can’t breathe. I miss the fun I had with him. I miss making
love to him. I miss missing him. He used to work so many hours that
when he would walk in the front door at night I would rush across the
room and jump in his arms because I missed him so much. I even
miss how much he loved it when I would do that.
It’s the not-so-strong days when I wish my mother knew about
everything that was going on. I sometimes just want to drive over to
her house and curl up on the couch with her while she tucks my hair
behind my ear and tells me it’ll all be okay. Sometimes even grown
women need their mother’s comfort so we can just take a break from
having to be strong all the time.
I sit in my car, parked in her driveway, for a good five minutes
before I work up the strength to go inside. It sucks that I have to do
this because I know that in a way, I’ll be breaking her heart, too. I
hate it when she’s sad and telling her I married a man who might be
like my father is going to make her really sad.
When I walk through the front door, she’s in the kitchen layering
noodles in a pan. I don’t remove my coat right away for obvious
reasons. I’m not wearing a maternity shirt but my bump is almost
impossible to hide without a jacket. Especially from a mother.
“Hey, sweetie!” she says.
I walk into the kitchen and give her a side hug while she layers
cheese over the top of the lasagna. Once the lasagna is in the oven, we
walk over to the dining room table and take a seat. She leans back in
her chair and takes a sip from a glass of tea.
She’s smiling. I hate it even more that she looks so happy right
now.
“Lily,” she says. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I don’t like this. I was coming over here to talk to her. I’m not
prepared to receive a talk.
“What is it?” I ask hesitantly.
She grips her glass of tea with both hands. “I’m seeing someone.”
My mouth drops open.
“Really?” I ask, shaking my head. “That’s . . .” I’m about to say good,
but then I grow instantly worried that she’s just put herself in a similar
situation she was in with my father. She can see the worry on my face,
so she grabs my hands in both of hers.
“He’s good, Lily. He’s so good. I promise.”
Relief washes over me in an instant, because I can see she’s telling
the truth. I can see the happiness in her eyes. “Wow,” I say, not
expecting this at all. “I’m happy for you. When can I meet him?”
“Tonight, if you want,” she says. “I can invite him over to eat with
us.”
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “Now’s not a good time.”
Her hands squeeze around mine as soon as she realizes I’m here to
tell her something important. I start with the better part of the news
first.
I stand up and remove my jacket. At first, she doesn’t think
anything of it. She just assumes I’m making myself comfortable. But
then I take one of her hands and I press it against my stomach.
“You’re gonna be a grandma.”
Her eyes widen and for several seconds, she’s stunned speechless.
But then tears begin to form. She jumps up and pulls me into a hug.
“Lily!” she says. “Oh my God!” She pulls back, smiling. “That was so
fast. Were you trying? You haven’t even been married for very long.”
I shake my head. “No. It was a shock. Believe me.”
She laughs and after another hug, we both sit down again. I try to
keep up my smile, but it’s not the smile of an elated expectant
mother. She sees that almost immediately. She slides a hand over her
mouth. “Sweetie,” she whispers. “What’s the matter?”
Until this moment, I’ve fought to remain strong. I’ve fought to not
feel too sorry for myself when I’m around other people. But sitting
here with my mother, I crave weakness. I just want to be able to give
up for a little while. I want her to take over and hug me and tell me
it’ll all be okay. And for the next fifteen minutes while I cry in her
arms, that’s exactly what happens. I just stop fighting for myself
because I need someone else to do it for me.
I spare her most of the details of our relationship, but I do tell her
the most important things. That he’s hurt me on more than one
occasion, and I don’t know what to do. That I’m scared to have this
baby alone. That I’m scared I might make the wrong decision. That
I’m scared I’m being too weak and that I should have had him
arrested. That I’m scared I’m being too sensitive and I don’t know if
I’m overreacting. Basically, I tell her everything I haven’t even been
brave enough to fully admit to myself.
She retrieves some napkins out of the kitchen and comes back to
the table. After our eyes are finally dry, she begins to crumple the
napkin up between her hands, rolling it over in circles as she stares
down at it.
“Do you want to take him back?” she asks.
I don’t say yes. But I also don’t say no.
This is the first moment since this has happened that I’m being
completely honest. I’m honest to her and to myself. Maybe because
she’s the only one I know who has been through this. She’s the only
one I know who would understand the massive amounts of confusion
I’ve been experiencing.
I shake my head, but I also shrug. “Most of me feels like I’ll never
be able to trust him again. But a huge part of me grieves what I had
with him. We were so good together, Mom. The times I spent with
him were some of the best moments of my life. And occasionally I feel
like maybe I don’t want to give that up.”
I wipe the napkin beneath my eye, soaking up more tears.
“Sometimes . . . when I’m really missing him . . . I tell myself that
maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I could put up with him when he’s at
his worst just so I can have him when he’s at his best.”
She puts her hand on top of mine and rubs her thumb back and
forth. “I know exactly what you mean, Lily. But the last thing you want
to do is lose sight of your limit. Please don’t allow that to happen.”
I have no idea what she means by that. She sees the confusion in
my expression, so she squeezes my arm and explains in more detail.
“We all have a limit. What we’re willing to put up with before we
break. When I married your father, I knew exactly what my limit was.
But slowly . . . with every incident . . . my limit was pushed a little
more. And a little more. The first time your father hit me, he was
immediately sorry. He swore it would never happen again. The second
time he hit me, he was even more sorry. The third time it happened, it
was more than a hit. It was a beating. And every single time, I took
him back. But the fourth time, it was only a slap. And when that
happened, I felt relieved. I remember thinking, ‘At least he didn’t beat
me this time. This wasn’t so bad.’ ”
She brings the napkin up to her eyes and says, “Every incident
chips away at your limit. Every time you choose to stay, it makes the
next time that much harder to leave. Eventually, you lose sight of your
limit altogether, because you start to think, ‘I’ve lasted five years now.
What’s five more?’ ”
She grabs my hands and holds them while I cry. “Don’t be like me,
Lily. I know that you believe he loves you, and I’m sure he does. But
he’s not loving you the right way. He doesn’t love you the way you
deserve to be loved. If Ryle truly loves you, he wouldn’t allow you to
take him back. He would make the decision to leave you himself so
that he knows for a fact he can never hurt you again. That’s the kind
of love a woman deserves, Lily.”
I wish with all my heart that she didn’t learn these things from
experience. I pull her to me and hug her.
For whatever reason, I thought I would have to defend myself to
her when I came over here. Not once did I think I would come over
here and learn from her. I should know better. I thought my mother
was weak in the past, but she’s actually one of the strongest women I
know.
“Mom?” I say, pulling back. “I want to be you when I grow up.”
She laughs and brushes the hair from my face. I can see in the way
she looks at me that she’d trade spots with me in a heartbeat. She’s
feeling more pain for me in this moment than she ever felt for
herself. “I want to tell you something,” she says.
She reaches for my hands again.
“The day you gave your father’s eulogy? I know you didn’t freeze
up, Lily. You stood at that podium and refused to say a single good
thing about that man. It was the proudest I have ever been of you. You
were the only one in my life who ever stood up for me. You were
strong when I was scared.” A tear falls from her eye when she says, “Be
that girl, Lily. Brave and bold.”
