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“Better. I’m working on… so much,” Mom says. A ghostly smile takes over her lips but doesn’t touch her eyes. “There’s a long way to go, but lately, I’ve been thinking so much about Evan, about you. I failed my children, but I think I failed you the most.”
Her arms cross the flat metal table, and I reach for her hand with my free hand. Her nails are short, her skin isn’t as smooth as I remember, and for the first time, I can sense I’m meeting a genuine person.
“I let your father.” Mom bites her lip as Dad clears his throat. “Martin exploited you, and I didn’t let you meet your father… I… am sorry for everything.” She sniffs. “There’s so much more I have to reflect on, things that only now are making sense. I’m going to be here for about a year, so during birthdays and the holidays maybe we can exchange cards, and presents? I want another chance.”
“I’d like that, Jessica.”
There is still a long way to go for her, but I remain silent and listen to what she needs: a support system.
“We’ll start building a new relationship,” I suggest, hoping that someday we can have a normal mother and daughter bond. “We’ll write to each other and see where that takes us.”
“Thank you, Aggie.” Her shoulders relax. “I want to be there for you if you ever need me. This time I’ll be what you need—a mother.”
My heart flutters, but my mind stops it.
“You want to tell me what else you’ve been up to?” I point at the outside garden. “There was an exercise group when we arrived. Anything interesting here?”
Jessica fills me in about the classes she attends: early morning t’ai chi, painting, some sewing—where she sucks—and she also plays bingo every night.
“I thought bingo only happened in Catholic schools and nursing homes.” She laughs.
“It does?” I wouldn’t know. There wasn’t any religious education involved in our house, and I had tutors at the studio. Some requirements that I had to complete to be able to act. “How would you know?”
“I went to Catholic schools all my life, Aggie, but since Martin is an atheist. I-it doesn’t matter.”
Martin being an atheist doesn’t surprise me, as he only believes in himself. Well, this explains why I never went to a church. My mother being a Catholic is unexpected. This is the first time I’ve learned anything about her childhood.
Does she have parents?
Do they know about us?
I want to ask more, but I bite my lip and refuse to go that route. I have no idea if bombarding her with questions will affect her recovery. I do hope someday we’ll continue this conversation and that she’ll tell me what she was like and what she dreamt about back then.
“There were nuns,” she suddenly says, and cringes, “at the school. Those urban stories about slamming you with a wooden ruler are real. They’d pull your ear and take you to the principal’s office. I was there daily.”
She laughs. “Those days, talking back was a sin, and you had to pray ten Hail Marys before heading back to class.”
She continues talking about her twelve years in Catholic school. Worse than jail, no probation, andonlygirls in her class. But it seems like the penitence didn’t work too well on her. Jessica sounds like James Dean: a rebel without a cause.
Did she wear a uniform? I bet that if she did, she must have done something extreme to it. Cut the skirt too short, wore the wrong blouse, and donned hot pink socks.
“You’re going to be okay, Jessica.” I squeeze her hand.
“You too. I’m proud of you, Aggie.” Her words freeze my blood, and my limbs lose any sensation. “After everything, you found a way out and survived. I’ll follow your example. This time I’m not letting anyone pull me back down.”
I rise from my seat and hug her tight, hoping it’s true. That I’ll have a mother, and that this time she’ll love me.
Dad hugs me while we walk through the hallways of the center. He promised Jessica he’d come by in a week.
“Jessica was sweet like you are,” Dad says. “That’s what attracted me to her, and Martin was… He abused her. I tried to protect her from him, but she couldn’t break the addiction.”
“Did you love her?”
“In a way, yes. She wasn’t the love of my life.” He gives me an apologetic shrug. “But I did care a lot about Jessica.”
“Thank you for bringing me, and for helping her, Dad.”
“You don’t need to thank me. I’m here for you. If this doesn’t work, we’ll keep trying. I’ve seen several people struggle with addiction, but with the right support, they stay clean.”
