“Sam…helped me on a very bad day. I’ve always remembered how nice he was. So, Maine seemed like a destination.” I rest my head on the back of the chair and look up at the dark sky. “Not that many people are nice, you know? I just kind of hate people a lot of the time, which sucks. I don’t want to be like that anymore. All miserable and crazy and…and…hating myself. Sam,” I say pointedly, “is a good, good person. You must be a happy mother. Proud.”
She studies me with curiosity, but it’s not in a bad way. “Did you come here, looking for Sam?”
“Shh.” I hold a finger to my lips and suppress a giggle. “Don’t say that. It makes me sound creepy.”
Felicia laughs. “I won’t say anything.”
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m just trying to save myself.”
She gives me a thoughtful look. “This is a good place to do that. You’re going to stay in town for a while?”
“My plans didn’t really include a lot of actual planning. I just…got in my car, and here I am.” I look at her now. “I’m so sorry, but I think I’m a little drunk, and I think I should go to bed somewhere.” Then, for some reason, in a horrible British accent, I ask too loudly, “Have you got room at the inn?”
Felicia laughs again. “For you? Absolutely.”
She pulls me to a stand, and the world spins.
“I have a lovely room upstairs with a king-sized bed, a rose-colored comforter, and more pillows than you’ll know what to do with. There’s a beautiful view off the balcony. You won’t want to leave.”
“I already don’t.”
I scuffle next to her, and her arm slips around my waist to steady me.
“You’re a much better mother than mine is. Was. Whatever.”
Felicia makes me give her my car keys, and she asks someone at the front desk to retrieve my bags from the car. She helps me up a winding broad staircase that leads to the second floor and into the most beautiful cozy room. She pulls a bottle of water from a mini fridge and directs me to drink up. While she goes downstairs to help the person with my bags, I go to the bathroom and drunkenly decide that this is an opportune moment to check my voice mail messages. I hold the phone in the crook of my neck while I fumble for the guest-provided toothbrush and turn on the water.
“Stella! Where are you? How can you disappear on me now of all times?” My mother’s voice bellows through the phone, and I roll my eyes. “I’m starving, so I need you to get me dinner.”
Next message. “What the hell have you done? How could you do this to me? They’re keeping Amy in thepsych unitand putting her on suicide watch because you fabricated some story about pills and guns. Damn you, Stella. I will never forgive you.”
Then, “Oh, sweetheart! I need you!” Lucinda is sobbing. “I am all alone, and I cannot get through this without you. What am I going to tell everyone? How humiliating.”
I spit into the sink and keep listening.
“How dare you.” Her voice is full of rage and disgust. “After everything I’ve done for you. And youleaveme? Amy told me you’re gone. You’re just like your father—a coward, a child. Abitch. Well, you know what? Fine. That’s just fine. Don’t ever ask me for anything else. You’re dead to me.”
After this last message and after spending an evening talking to Felicia, I see so clearly that my relationship with my mother is not normal, not close to healthy. Lucinda has been emotionally abusing me for years. I suppose I’ve allowed it. Maybe I should have been stronger and seen that years ago. I could have fought for myself, escaped earlier, but she’d broken me too much. I hate her for that, for everything.
There are more messages, but I delete them, except for the one from Amy.
“You did it. Good. I won’t call you again, and don’t call me. I’m going to be fine. I’m not going to die or hurt anyone. I promise. Don’t look back. Don’t ever look back on us.”
That’s all she says. The sisterly warmth I got from her at the hospital is gone. She sounds logical and cold in this message.
So, there. It’s done. I am effectively alone in the world.
I set down the phone on the marble vanity and gag a few times over the drain before I finish getting ready for bed.
When I stumble out of the bathroom, Felicia is pulling back the puffy duvet for me with a genuinely warm smile. “Hop in, kiddo.”
She tucks me in. I am moved beyond words, but I say nothing and crawl into bed, fully dressed. Keeping my eyes open for even one more second is impossible, and I’m too tired to even thank her. But as I drift off, I feel her hand stroke my back and then tuck my hair behind an ear.
