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“Good.”
“You know, we never really talked after I came back from rehab. Thank you for getting us out the house that night. You saved our lives.”
“I did it for her. Not you.”
“Mm…I’m not so sure about that,” she scanned my face. “You are Elizabeth Cole’s son. That woman is famous for her never ending need to help the others. I get the feeling you took after her.”
“Great,” I murmured. “I hope I’m not prone to jeopardizing my relationships with my loved ones just to help total strangers.”
Sylvia smiled, she looked like she was enjoying our conversation way more than she expected.
“I talked with your mother a couple of times since Clem left. She wanted to help my daughter when she invited her to stay with you, but Elizabeth mostly hoped it would benefit you.”
“Yes, I know. She wanted me to forgive Clementine for kissing someone else when we were fourteen. Turned out it wasn’t exactly my problem after all,” my tone was sharp.
“What do you mean?” Sylvia looked intrigued. I took a deep breath.
“I was obsessed with your daughter. I never really hated her. I kept telling myself I did because I had to attach a feeling as a reason for my obsession. Love was not an option. So, I repeated myself I hated her until I forgot there was another feeling lurking inside me. So what my mother really did was exposing me to unhealthy amount of Clementine Hartley on daily basis until I couldn’t fool myself anymore.”
“Was that a bad thing?” her tone implying it really wasn’t.
“Considering she’s an ocean away from me and not returning my calls?”
“Have you thought that maybe she would return and have a clear idea of what she wants? Do you want her to be here trying to figure herself out while making mistake after mistake to all of which you would be an audience to? Or do you want her to come back some day and give you closure without hesitation?”
“I don’t want closure. I want her”, I said through my clenched teeth. Sylvia paused for a moment.
“Don’t judge your mother, okay? She helped a girl you obviously love. Is that a good or a bad thing?”
What happened to that woman? Before I could find an answer to that question, she continued.
“That’s what I asked myself. Elizabeth helped my child. Should I hate her for it or should I be grateful? Don’t get me wrong,” she lifted a hand and slid it over her hair. “I didn’t come up with that on my own. I wanted to strangle your mother at the beginning. My therapist pointed me in that direction.”
“So you’re not mad at my mother?” I asked perplexed.
“No, she did the right thing for Clementine. I’m thankful for it.”
I spent a couple of hours in Sylvia Hartley’s empty home. The house looked huge for a single person. I felt sorry for her. Later that evening, when Sylvia was seeing me off at the door, I looked at their staircase.
“Can I go up to her room for a second?” I asked.
“I guess,” Sylvia dragged. “You’re not doing anything perverted, are you?” She looked disgusted from the possibilities that went through her head. I laughed.
“Just a quick look. I’m not turning into a stalker, I swear.”
She nodded, and I went to Clementine’s room. I immediately looked at the ceiling. The daffodil was still there. I was glad she hadn’t pealed it off in a nervous breakdown.
I went back home. Everyone was in the living room. No one talked to me since I haven’t really been talking to them for more than a month. I threw myself on the couch next to mom. She looked at me with caution.
“Was she wearing the necklace when she left?”
I felt three pair of eyes staring at me. Mom rubbed her cheek.
“Sorry, honey. She was crying. I was worried. I didn’t pay any attention to that.”
“Okay,” I said calmly. “I understand.”
I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. I felt good for the first time since Clementine first started pulling away from me.
