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A sound dimly dinged in the background, and Melody bumped the power pedal. The doorbell? She tripped on the vacuum cord as she tried to hurry to the door and caught herself with both hands to the floor. By the time she cautiously opened the door, no one was there. But a box loomed on the cement step, and her lips slid into a smile nothing could stop.
She knew who that was from. Apparently, nothing could stop him, too.
Bending, she retrieved the heavy box, scanning her surroundings for any sign of the man who had admired her since he was a boy, but he was gone.
Curiosity propelled her back into the warmth of her small house. She shouldn’t even look at the contents. But how could she not? It was from TJ. He wasn’t giving up.
Warmth—that same, wonderful warmth—washed over her as she pawed through the box. Another set of Valentine’s chocolates. As if she needed more after the enormous heart he gave her a few days ago.
She stifled a laugh and pulled out an arrangement of roses tucked into a large basket. Why, there must be three dozen. Red and white and pink, interspersed with greenery and Queen Anne’s Lace. A small balloon rose out of the mix, covered in red and pink hearts, bearing the words, “To the one I love.”
The more she looked, the more she found. A music box that played her favorite classical song, Larghetto from Concerto No. 2 by Chopin. A gift card to House of Hometown where she had eaten with TJ the night they’d run into Drew. She didn’t miss the significance. He was letting her know, again, that he accepted that part of her. The part that had been with other men.
A sob ripped up the back of her throat, but she kept looking, finding more and more in the box. A self-help book entitledAbuse: It’s Not About You. A plaque that read “God made you wonderful.” Even a package of maxi-pads beside a box of tampons. Her smile wobbled. Each gift he had carefully chosen was a symbol of her—a symbol of his choice to love and accept that part of her.
At the bottom of the box lay an envelope on which was written her name in TJ’s neat, cursive handwriting. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she reached for it. What more could he possibly say than he already had?
The door flew open, and the card slipped from her hands as her mom staggered into the house. The smell of alcohol blew in with her, and Melody gagged.
She was back in her childhood and adolescence, her mom dragging herself home drunk on a daily basis. It didn’t matter that it was barely four in the afternoon. Her mom drank any time of the day or night she pleased.
“What’s all this junk?” Her mom swayed in the middle of the room, glaring at the loving mess strewn around the box.
“From TJ,” Melody said, her voice warbling. Her mother swore, tilting so far on her feet Melody leaped forward to keep her from falling.
“I always hated that fool boy.” Her mom’s words were garbled as she leaned heavily upon Melody. “Too doggone loyal.” Melody longed to ask what she meant, but her mom was already moving toward the bathroom, half-dragging Melody with her. “I’m about to be sick, girl. Help me.”
Melody knew what that meant. Without delay, she assisted her mom to the bathroom where her mom dropped onto all fours and crawled to the toilet. Melody turned away, her eyes blurring. What a sight it was, her mother vomiting into the toilet, disheveled, dirty, and drunk. How could Melody have thought for a minute she might be good enough for TJ?
“I’m a mess. Give me some help here.”
Melody reached with wooden motions for a clean towel and handed it to her mom, but when her mom only looked at it stupidly, she squatted down and ignored the stench to wipe the vomit off her mom’s face. Then she helped her get into the bed, putting a basin beside her in case she wasn’t done regurgitating.
“I’m sorry.”
Melody spun around at the muttered words. “What?” Her mom had never apologized for anything before. Never.
“I said I’m sorry.” The words were heavily slurred. Her mom wouldn’t remember this conversation when she awoke. “You deserve a better mother. You always did.”
Melody’s jaw clenched. “You never treated me like I deserved better.”
“I know. That’s why I said I’m sorry. I was always jealous of you. Jealous of my own daughter. What woman does that?”
She wasn’t making much sense, but Melody crept closer, needing to hear more. “Why were you jealous of me?”
“You were so beautiful. So smart. So talented. You could do anything you set your mind to. Not a loser like your mother.”
Melody’s lips parted slowly at the words of affirmation she had craved from her mother her entire life and never heard even once before.
“But most of all, I was jealous of your boyfriend. Or whatever you called him. He was so loyal. And not because of all the good things about you. He was loyal ‘cuz he loved you. I never did find a man to stay with me. But that TJ… He never left your side. No matter what.” Her mom shook with pitiful rage. “Oh, how I hated him for giving you what I never had.”
Her eyes closed, sleep beginning its stealthy penetration through her stupor. “I’m proud of you, Baby.” The words murmured through thin, dry lips. “Any mother would be.” Her head nodded to the side after that. Melody stared at her until she couldn’t see through a haze of tears. Then she shuffled to the couch, hugged her knees to her chest, and sobbed.
Her mom was proud of her.
When her emotion was spent, she let her body uncurl. How could so much inside her change with one statement? Nothing had actually changed. Her mom would wake up the same bitter, mean woman who put Melody down at every turn because she didn’t know how else to live. It was her defense mechanism. Melody could see that now.
Realty was, her mom would never change. Melody could keep living under the belief of the lies her mom had planted in her. Or she could choose to shed them like a snake did its skin and step out into the light of truth.
