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“That bad, huh?”
My mother was the Unstoppable Force when it came to conversations. You didn’t want to talk about it? That was okay, she understood, she wouldn’t pry, and all the other little niceties people say – and then she would go ahead asking you questions, stating assumptions, making little comments until it drove you mad. Like Chinese Water Torture.
As I said, my mother was the Unstoppable Force.
Unfortunately, I was not the Immovable Object.
But I tried.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“If it doesn’t matter, why not tell me about it?” she asked, her voice kind.
I have to give her that – she was being kind. She never pried into my private life solely out of some need for gossip. I always felt like she just wanted to talk to her daughter.
Even though it was freaking annoying.
“It’s in the past,” I insisted.
“Not
that
far in the past, apparently.”
“Far enough.”
She sipped her wine. “I talk about things in the past all the time.”
“But not about this.”
“Why not?”
JESUS.
“He cheated on me,” I blurted out.
Her features suddenly sagged with a deep, compassionate hurt. “Oh, honey… I’m so sorry.”
Maybe I was pissed at Derek. Maybe I was pissed at her for asking me about him. Maybe I was just pissed at
her.
But I followed up immediately with, “Why? You did the same thing.”
As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn’t have. But I was glad I did, in a savage sort of way. I was spoiling for a fight.
She didn’t take the bait, though. That hurt expression slowly morphed into a calm mask of neutrality, and she watched me silently for a long time. Long enough for me to get defensive, anyway.
“What?” I snapped. “It’s true.”
“When are you going to forgive me?”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “I already did.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Right.”
“I
did.
”
“Then why did you bring it up like that, like you’re trying to hurt me?”
I gritted my teeth. “Because I hate it when people say they’ll do one thing, and they promise you they love you, and then they go… they go… they go and…”
I couldn’t help myself. My eyes welled up. I stared down at the floor as I sniffled and angrily wiped away the tears running down my cheeks.
I was angry at Derek – at what he had done to me, and that I still cared about him.
Angry at my mother, for how close she had come to ruining our family, and for prying into areas I didn’t want exposed.
Angry at myself, that I couldn’t keep control of my emotions…
…and guilty. Horribly guilty.
Because, once upon a time, I had cheated on someone, too.
And since karma’s a bitch, the man I had cheated with four years ago had now cheated on
me
.
A firestorm of emotions swirled through me as I cried.
“Honey,” Mom said soothingly.
She reached out to touch my hand. I jerked it away from her like she was trying to stab me.
“Kaitlyn,” my mother said, and I could hear the hurt in her voice again – except this time it wasn’t compassion for me, it was her own private pain. Pain I had inflicted.
I glared at her through my tears.
“You really do hate me, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
“No,” I snapped.
“Well you sure as hell couldn’t convince
me
of that,” she said, and took a gulp of wine.
“Why are you drinking so much?” I griped, even though I knew I was being hypocritical.
Another laugh, short and bitter. “Because it’s the only thing that helps when your husband and daughter hate your guts.”
The matter-of-factness with which she said it was deeply disturbing.
“I don’t hate you. Neither does Daddy.”
“Oh yes he does. He said he forgave me, just like you. But he freezes me out, just like you.”
“I don’t freeze you out.”
She harrumphed and gave me a sideways look. “
Right.
”
Now my discomfort was fading, and the anger was rising again. “Well, if you hate it so much, why don’t you leave him?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” she mused, staring off into the distance.
All my insides suddenly turned to ice water.
Hearing your mother say she’s contemplating leaving your father? Even if you agree it’s a good idea? Not a pleasant thing to hear.
Then she said something worse.
“I should have done it when it all happened,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t have given in.”
The room felt like it was tipping uncontrollably beneath me.
“What do you mean, you shouldn’t have given in?”
Her reverie broken, she looked over at me and realized she’d said too much. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean, you shouldn’t have given in?”
“Nothing. I’m buzzed, Kaitlyn, I was just – ”
“What do you mean?!”
She watched me for a long time, then slowly exhaled, like she was releasing some pent-up burden. “I went to your father and asked for a divorce when… when it all came out.”
