I sigh, wanting to just be done with this story. “I guess Tom didn’t like being made a fool of, and that was how he felt when I got away. I’d wondered why my mom hadn’t shown up to my graduation. It turned out she was angry I’d cost her her meal ticket.”
When I put all the pieces together, the despair and loneliness I felt was deep enough to cut, and it had nothing to do with being new in a big city.
“God, Joss. No wonder you never talk about her.” Wes’s words break through my stream of consciousness, and I’m thankful for it. I catch the way his nostrils flare and feel his grip on my hand tighten—he looks about ready to burst with anger on my behalf while he tries to process. He’s almost vibrating with it, and if this whole situation weren’t so fucked up, I’d probably laugh at the irony.
This man, who I’ve known for just three months, is reacting the way I thought my mom would when I told her I was nearly assaulted by her boyfriend. I give his hand a little squeeze, running my thumb back and forth, silently thanking him for being the man he is. He looks on the verge of losing it, and this isn’t even the end of the story. I hope he can hear it without breaking anything.
“Yeah, well, it gets better.” I try to infuse my tone with as much nonchalance as possible, taking the power away from the eventsI’m about to relive, but I know it’ll be a feeble attempt. There’s no disguising the pain of what broke us for good.
“I told her to leave me alone. She went back to him and begged him to take her back—because of course she did.” My head shakes as I say the words—they still seem unbelievable even to me. “I took over my phone bill and the insurance, cutting myself off from their finances and influence entirely. I thought that would be enough. They were together for a while, but I knew they’d broken up when she called me a few years later and told me she’d moved again but that this time, she’d foundthe one. Again.” I scoff, and it comes out maniacal. “She claimed she was so happy. He was so wonderful. Blah blah blah.”
I should have known better. I should have never taken that call. I should’ve changed my number when she didn’t believe me and took the word of a predator over her own daughter. There were so many things I should have done, but thinking about them isn’t going to change anything.
“She sounded genuinely happy, and we slowly started reconnecting. Emailing, calling, just checking in. She seemed different, better. She was happy for me that I had a job I enjoyed and that I was finding success for myself. She asked if she and her new boyfriend could come visit me in Sydney. At that point, it’d been several years since I last saw her. She said she missed me, that she really wanted me to meet him because she thought they might get married, and she wanted me to be there when they did.”
I can still remember that whole conversation like it was yesterday. The little girl inside me was desperate for us to be okay, for her to want to have a relationship with me. I close my eyes and can hear allher words in my head. When I open them again, Wes is watching me intently, still holding my hand. My rock in this storm.
He’s closer now too. Sitting in the middle of the couch, one leg bent in and the other hanging off the side, my feet just against his shin. He’s got one arm propped on the back of the couch, holding my hand, and the other looks ready to grab on to me at any moment.
“I said yes.” My words come out hollow, sad. “I wanted to reconcile. I hoped it would fill the void my dad left, thatsheleft. They came and stayed with me for a couple days. I was living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment at the time. There was barely enough room for us all to be there, but they brought an air mattress, and for the first two days, it was nice. Almost normal. They took me out to dinners, we walked around the city, and we even splurged to walk overtop the Harbour Bridge together. I introduced them to Jaz and we drank too much coffee at Harbour Grounds. I was just so happy to feel like I had family again. I let my guard down.”
God, I can’t even look at him now. The fingers of my free hand pull at the hem of the hoodie until I’m afraid I’ll shred it if I don’t stop. I swallow the lump in my throat, wanting this to be over, for it all to be out there.
“It was a Wednesday. I’ll never forget. I had to get up early for a trip in the morning, and my mom and Bill—” I break off. I haven’t uttered his name in seven years. “They weren’t moving very fast that morning. I was going to be late, so I kissed my mom goodbye and told them to lock the door on their way out. I was gone for three days, and when I got back, anything that was easy to move, easy to sell, everything of value that I owned was gone. My laptop, gone.The few pieces of jewelry I had, gone. I didn’t have a lot, but they took anything they could fit in their car.”
I feel the first tear slip down my cheek, and Wes’s thumb brushes it away. The second follows a few seconds later, and then it’s all over. Fuck.
“God, this is so embarrassing.” I close my eyes, wiping at my face and looking up to the ceiling. I still carry so much shame and anger over what happened because it was my fault. I should have never trusted her.
“Joss?” My name is a gentle question. He waits for me to look at him, and when I do, there’s no pity, even the burning rage has dissipated. Instead, all I see is sadness—because he cares. “That was not your fault, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, but I chose to trust her, to trust him. I allowed them into my house and I left them alone there. I should have known better.”
“But Joss, you were young. You were, what, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You’re supposed to be able to trust your own mother. This is not on you—this is on them.”
My shoulders shake with the sob I can’t contain. Aside from the few times I’ve allowed myself to cry with Wes, I hadn’t cried a single time since that day. Not once since I walked into my ransacked fourth-floor apartment in Marrickville and realized what she’d done. I locked my emotions up tight. I thickened my skin. I never opened myself up to be hurt by someone again. It’s why I react instinctively now with anger over sadness. Anger feels empowering, controlled. Sadness, tears… Those emotions feel weak and unrestrained.
His words wash over me again and again. I’ve told myself those things so many times, and Jaz has insisted them evenmore. She’s the only other person who knows my past because she was there to pick up the pieces. Yet hearing it from Wes is different. The words sink below that thick skin and begin to take root.
I take a steadying breath, needing to finish this story so we can move on. “After I got home and realized what happened, I changed my number. I even moved in with Jaz for a while until I could find a new place. I couldn’t stay there any longer. It had been so utterly violated by them that it made my skin crawl. I cut all ties with her and haven’t heard anything from her in seven years. Until today.”
I’m about to lose it and start crying again. My lip quivers and my vision blurs with unshed tears. Then Wes’s strong arms engulf me, and I sag against him in relief and exhaustion while he holds me tight.
I want so badly to stay here in this moment with him, to never let go, to forget the rest of the world, my mom, all of it. But I have bigger problems, and I need Wes to help me figure them out. I push away from him and reach for my phone. I’ve felt it buzzing in my pocket for the last hour. I can only assume what the messages will say.
I unlock the screen and there they are.
Unknown Number
Joss, I know we left on bad terms last time, but please let me explain.
I need to talk to you, we need to make this right.
Please, Joss. This is important. I’m your mother, you can’t just ignore me.
We will be there Saturday morning. I promise it won’t be like last time.
I love you.
