My Gram and Gramps had been best friends until a massive heart attack claimed his life at eighty-eight. They’d still held hands. Sat together on the porch swing. Shared the morning newspaper and laughed over their favorite TV programs. My parents hadn’t been a great example of lasting love, but it’s not like I never had that example. If my parents were evidence that marriages failed half the time, my grandparents proved that it was possible to defy the odds sometimes.
“I guess I didn’t realize how much it scared me,” I said, knowing I had to come clean and speak my truth if I ever hoped to find closure. “Seeing what you went through when Dad left.”
She swallowed, as a look of uneasiness crossed her face. “I know I didn’t handle it well. I wasn’t strong, like my mother. I never expected to be alone, with two kids to raise, no education or skills. I felt blind-sided and betrayed when your dad left.”
I tried to put myself in my mother’s position. And I had, I realized. I’d imagined walking in her shoes a hundred times. That’s why I chose the path I had. So, I’d never have to follow in her footsteps.
“That’s understandable,” I said gently, trying not to put her on the defensive. “But do you ever wish you’d done things differently, you know, when the shock wore off and you realized it was time to pick up the pieces and move on with your life?”
She studied me for a minute before she said, “I didn’t think I was capable, to be honest. My sister was always the Brainiac in our family, as you well know. I was the good girl, the do-gooder.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess that kind of became my identity. But I became bitter and resentful when I realized that hadn’t served me very well. No matter how hard I tried, your father still left me. It wasn’t enough. I guess I thoughtIwasn’t enough.”
It hurt my heart to hear her talking about herself that way. She’d been a really good mom before the divorce and I knew she tried hard to be the wife she thought my dad deserved.
Curling my hand around her wrist as I imagined all the inadequacies she’d been wrestling with as she tried to shore up her self-esteem, I said, “You were probably too good for him, Mom.”
She gave me a watery smile before clearing her throat. “Thank you. I know that now.” She winked at me. “Don’t get me wrong, your father has grown a lot since he left us. We wouldn’t be such good friends now, if we hadn’t both acknowledged our mistakes.”
I admired the friendship they’d built, which included both of their spouses. I didn’t think I’d be mature enough to forge a friendship with a man who bailed on me, even for the sake of our kids.
“I know it took a long time for you to get where you are. Both of you.” We shared a smile before I said, “I’m proud of you for not giving up.” She’d spiralled into a deep, dark depression that felt like it lasted for years when I was growing up. We weren’t sure she’d ever find her way out of it.
“Thank you, but I made so many mistakes, Briar. And I can’t help but feel my mistakes hurt you most of all.”
I told myself this was the reason I’d come: a heart-to-heart where we both laid it on the line. But now that the moment of truth was here, I was nervous about what she might say, and how hard the truth might hit me. “How so?”
“You were a girl, and I saw so much of myself in you. You had the same sweet, kind disposition. A bit naïve perhaps, always wanting to see the best in everyone.”
I vaguely remembered being that girl. The one who volunteered to care for the class pet. Organize a blanket drive for kids in third world countries. Stand up to the class bullies, even when it put my personal safety at risk, because I had a soft spot for underdogs.
But after the divorce something shifted. In our house, kindness was seen as weakness. My mother told me to buck up when I cried and I started viewing sensitivity as a character flaw. She told me I had to be strong. Protect myself. So I did. Without realizing the long-term effects.
“I believed I had to toughen you up. I couldn’t allow what happened to me to happen to you. I couldn’t let some man blindside you someday. So I encouraged you to get a good education. Prove yourself in the corporate world. Pay your own way. Build your own nest egg.” She shuddered as she looked me in the eye. “And keep men at arm’s length so you wouldn’t get hurt.”
Tears glided down her cheeks and my heart split wide open. Regret came pouring out. Regret that I’d taken advice from a woman so broken she had no business doling it out. Regret that I hadn’t taken responsibility, as an adult, for un-doing the mistakes I’d made. Regret that I’d let go of the best man I’d ever known instead of fighting for him.
“I didn’t have to listen,” I said, trying to ease some of her guilt. “I could have resisted, formed my own opinions. When I was older—”
“It was too late by then,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Those beliefs were too deep-seated. By the time you turned twenty, maybe, I realized the damage may be irreversible.”
It sounded like my grandmother’s voice echoing in my ear when I said, “It’s never too late, Mom. I really believe that. I still have time to fix my mistakes, to get it right.”
“With Rhett, you mean?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Was it too late with Rhett? He was a strong-willed, proud man, who’d already given me too many chances to get it right and I continued letting him down. I wouldn’t blame him if he’d cut me off for the last time. Still, I had to try.
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling the pain of uncertainty put the squeeze on my heart. “I’ve challenged Rhett a lot.” I smirked at my own stupidity, shaking my head in disgust. “Fate, if you can call it that, handed me one last chance to get things right with him. And I messed it up. Again.” I wasn’t even sure I deserved another chance with him. Or had the courage to ask for it.
She rested her hand on top of mine, whispering, “Believe me, I know that giving up is the easiest thing to do. I wallowed in that place for years. But I also know you’re ten times more resilient and determined than I ever was. You fight for what you want, Briar. You go after what you want in life and don’t stop until you get it. The only area of your life that hasn’t applied to? Relationships. But maybe that’s because you’ve only known one man worth fighting for, hmm?”
She was so right. Rhett was the only person who’d ever made me want to drop the mask and step into my fear instead of hiding from it. “Drew told me he’s in Costa Rica now. I don’t know when he’ll be back.” I closed my eyes on a sigh. “I’m the one who drove him out of town.”
“And you’ll be the one waiting for him when he comes back?”
I swallowed the fear trapped in my throat. “But what if he decides he’s done with me, Mom? That he’s already given me my last chance to prove that I’m willing to fight for him… for us?”
Her smile was sympathetic when she said, “I can’t promise you that won’t happen. I don’t know what’s in Rhett’s heart. But I do know that if you don’t try at least one more time you’ll have to live with that regret for the rest of your life.” She touched my cheek. “And I don’t want that for you, baby. I know it’s scary and you’re afraid of being rejected, but you’ve got to try.”
She was right. I only had one option: ask Rhett for one more chance to prove my days of ghosting him were over.
