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CHAPTER21
MITCHELL
I always thought that the day after my app launched was going to be filled with light laughter and a sense of accomplishment. I had not exactly expected so much from the public, but I had expected a couple of downloads, and I expected it to be talked about. But having to sit in my car in my driveway feeling like I hit rock bottom is not how I pictured this day at all.
Sam was able to fix an appointment with Yung, who is going to be at the office tomorrow. But waiting till then feels like an eternity. As I pull into my parking lot, I find myself looking over at the Potters' home, an action that has already become a habit.
I step out and move toward my door, resisting the temptation to look over again. I remember the look on Beth's face this morning during the meeting. She looked so hurt, and I feel horrible that I was the one who caused that. But I can't help but think that I am as much to blame as she is, seeing as I had not done a good job of setting proper boundaries.
Stepping into my home, for the first time, does not calm my nerves. Not the beautiful art on the wall nor the rich matching tones of the sofa and antiques, nothing in the sight that greets me brings me the sense of peace it had before. I automatically move to my mini-bar and cork open a bottle of white, then shove it back because I figure I'm going to need something stronger than that.
Pouring a healthy dose of gin, I bring it to my lips. The strong scent of it hits my nostrils, causing them to flare. When the drink slides down my throat, I sigh and move with the glass in hand to my room, where I don't even bother to undress.
Moving to the window that overlooks my backyard, I'm lost in thought as I continue to take sips from my glass. I had somehow managed to not go online, afraid of what I would read in the media, the negative reviews that the sudden crash would have incurred. The doorbell rings, pulling me back to the here and now. I frown because I’m not expecting anyone and very much want to be left alone. The possibility of it being Beth is the only thing that has me striding across the floor in seconds.
I don't question the reason why my heart has picked up the pace. But it does, and I don't even have time to berate myself before pushing the door open, my mouth falling open at the sight that greets me. The shocking events of the past twelve hours have not quite prepared me for a visit from my mother.
“Hi, Mitch,” she greets me with a tired smile, even though it is mid-afternoon.
“Does Father know you're here?” I blurt out because I know what a control freak my old man is. And I also understand that my mother would never be here unless she had obtained his permission.
“He doesn't need to,” comes her shocking reply. “I read about your app launch in the Times,” she says, her tone a bit quiet. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I say, and then I wonder if she is aware of the crash. My team assured me that it is going to be kept off the media, but I still have doubts. I should have taken their words for it because Mom does not look like she has any idea of what has happened in the last twelve hours. The conversation is terse, and I can tell from how hard she clutches her designer bag that she wants to say more, wants to break this icy wall between us. And after all these months, I do not quite know how to break the ice either.
“Last night, watching and learning about what you'd done was marvelous. It caused me to—” she pauses and swallows. "It caused me to realize a lot of things. In retrospect, I think I was trying to make you into something you are not. And watching how well you were doing out here on your own caused me to realize how wrong I was in assuming I could carve out your path for you."
I swallow, suddenly overcome by emotion at her words. She sounds so small and rueful. And now, for the first time in the last twelve hours, I feel something other than the gnawing pain of the sudden crash.
When I say nothing, she simply gulps and continues.
“I'm truly sorry. No matter that our lives have taken different turns, I should never have been so bothered that you wanted to live more simply and on your terms.” She valiantly tries to express herself, which is why I cover her hands with mine.
“It's alright, Mother.”
When she glances at me, there are tears in her eyes, but also a smile curving her lips. She laughs and shakes her head.
“God, I'm a mess.”
I laugh with her.
“It's all in the past now, Mom.”
Because it really is.
“Thank you,” she says, and then she squeezes my hands and lets go. “I just need you to know that I'm very supportive of your decision now.”
I nod at her words, knowing I should feel ecstatic that my mother is finally seeing me for me. But instead, I am filled with despair because the one thing that caused this unexpected visit has crashed unexpectedly, which is why I wonder what her reaction would be if I told her as much. Would she still be proud of me? Or is her strategic visit solely because of All4One?
When I sense that I'm going to start to question the genuineness of her actions, I shake my head softly, refusing to allow myself to go down that path. I did that with Beth, and it has not exactly ended well. I should take my mother's word for it, which is why I finally take a step back, allowing her to step into my home.
Mom looks around, taking in the matching couch and Persian rug and all the classy but understated designs.
“This place screams...you,” she says as she twirls slowly, looking impressed.
I chuckle. “It sure feels like home.”
“I can sense it,” she says as she moves toward one of the couches to make herself comfortable.
