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All the blood rapidly left my head. A wave of dizziness swept through me. My uncle, clearly seeing something, reached out to place a steadying hand on me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just wasn't expecting that.” I think my heart actually stopped.
“Do you want me to continue?” He asked.
I had the sense that he needed to share the story as much for himself as for me. “Yeah.”
“Dylan was the love of my life and had been from the very first moment we set eyes on each other. I loved her to distraction and I knew she felt the same.”
Shifting in my chair to face him I asked, “So what happened?”
“I don't know. I've thought a lot about it over the years and I still can't seem to make sense of Dylan's behavior. I was going to school and working a lot, and for a time I thought it was the lack of attention that pushed her away. But she had her own ways to stay busy, like working as a receptionist for one of the local businesses in town. Not to mention she had never been the clingy type. She did change, though. She used to be the life of the party, but it got to the point that she refused to leave the house. Before long she had withdrawn from every aspect of her life, became a shell of who she had been, that I hardly recognized her. I tried to talk with her—offered to get her professional help, but she wouldn't accept it. She wouldn't even let me near her anymore.”
“Eventually she moved away and I was devastated. So was your aunt, because she just idolized her sister. We found ourselves comforting each other, and eventually we fell into a comfortable life.”
“It's hard on your aunt to see you—you look so much like Dylan and there's still pain and anger in her for the way Dylan just pushed us out of her life.”
“It hasn't been ideal living here and I know I should have done more to make you comfortable. I am truly sorry.”
I didn't really know what to say. To learn that my mom hadn't always been the train wreck I had always known her to be was a surprise. What had happened to her to make her change? I wanted to know. And though I understood better what motivated my aunt to treat me the way she did, I still agreed with Bastian. She was a douche to take out her own problems on me. I was tempted to say that, but I didn't.
“Mom was self-destructive. Whatever sent her down that path haunted her right up until the end. I would have liked to have seen the woman you described, because the mom I knew was broken.”
Tears shone in his eyes. “I wish you had known her that way too. I'll go start dinner. Please join us tonight. It won't be the same; I promise you that.”
“Okay.”
The door closed behind my uncle, but I barely noticed his exit since my thoughts were on my mom. The woman he described was not the woman I grew up with. To know that there had been a time in her life when she was so much more than what she became, broke my heart.
What happened that caused her to lose her way? How could they have lost her so completely? And where had my aunt been through all of it? Had I a sibling, I had no doubt that I'd move hell and earth to ensure their health and happiness even at the risk of my own life. Why hadn't my aunt done the same for her own sister?
A short time later, I joined the family for dinner. I didn't miss the surprise on my cousins' faces to see me taking a seat at the table nor the barely veiled anger that twisted my aunt's expression.
My uncle placed a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs in the middle of the table. “I made this for you because I know how much you like it.” Our eyes met. “Thanks for joining us.”
Emotion rose up my throat and nearly choked me. I could only nod my head. Attention shifted when Deena started talking about her day. Affection gleamed on my aunt's face as she looked at her daughter.
“I made the cheerleader squad. Mom, I need to bring the money for the uniform to school by the end of the week and practice is Monday, Wednesday and Friday until five, so I'll need a ride home on those days.”
“Absolutely. I'm so proud of you, Deena. Anything you need sweetie, you've got it.”
My uncle saw my reaction to my aunt's unguarded response to Deena. Not once had she ever shown that kind of affection to me even though I knew she was capable of it.
“So tell us Lark, what are you painting now?” My uncle asked.
“The chapel in town square.”
“You favor oils, right?”
“I do, but charcoal is a close second.”
Carol chimed in from her spot across the table from me, “Have you tried a self-portrait yet?”
Anger pulsed off my aunt at the fact that the conversation centered around me, but I ignored her and allowed myself to engage in the banter with my uncle and cousins. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I really enjoyed myself.
***
