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I had known Ellie the longest of everyone at the gathering, and it felt good to have my old friend back. She did, however, take me aside and explain, in vivid detail, how she would castrate me if I hurt Becca ever again.
Even though I was sure that hurting Becca would never be in the cards for me for the rest of my days, I stepped back with her threat. Ellie has a heart of gold, but she’s loyal beyond words, and Becca is the center of her world, right along with her children. I made my promise to love Becca and made my way back to the gathering quite quickly.
Hudson and I had some time to talk as well before everyone gathered. We both came clean about how we were feeling toward one another, and I think we can actually be amicable, despite how much hate he spat at my direction at our first encounter. It surprised me to hear him confess that although he had so much love for Becca, he had broken his vow to love her the way she deserved.
He also recognized that her heart was not fully his from the moment they met, and he still chose to marry her. I think that takes a lot of guts to love knowing that you will never live up to someone else’s memory. We were able to interact calmly and cordially when gathering with the rest of the family, and I could see both Becs and Liv visibly calm when they realized Hudson and I would be on good terms.
It was great to see Grace again. She and Rick seem to be very happy up in Syracuse, seeing Liv as often as possible. Grace was quick to forgive the misunderstanding from years ago, but gave me her own version of Ellie’s speech, without threatening to cut anything off my body. I assured her that with age came maturity, and I would not allow a misunderstanding to pull Becca and me apart again. She seemed relieved to have me back in their family. I think she, too, noticed that Becca was living her life with all her stars aligned now.
The pilot announces the seatbelt sign is now off, and we can begin to disembark from the airplane. I don’t rush to get out of my seat, as the aisle is completely congested.
Becs stays by my side, whispering how much she loves me and that she’s here for me. I asked her to take a few more days off to take this trip with me. I needed to confront my mom, but I also needed Becs by my side.
She had sensed, early on, something about my mother that I had ignored for so long. I didn’t see the strain my mother imposed on my relationship with Becca. In many ways, my memories of my mother, when I dated Becca, remain untarnished because I truly didn’t see what Becca sensed in high school. Maybe Becs can be my anchor during this trip because I feel like what my mother is going to say is going to set me off my axis.
I had reached out to my therapist while in New York, and she scheduled a Zoom session with me before flying out. She was always great at listening, but I really needed a sounding board. She heard what had transpired all those years ago and I could tell, even through a screen, that her heart broke for me and what had happened between Becca, Olive, and me.
She was great at giving me different perspectives about what my mom might say in response to that letter. She also said that no matter what my mother said, responding with hurtful words, much like that letter had done to Becca, would not solve anything and might cause more stress for me.
The goal is to listen and then process what my mother had to say. Becca agreed, stating that as upset as she was with the potential that my mother caused this, she wanted to hear what she had to say and come to her own conclusion. For her, no matter the reasoning, it wouldn't change the past she had with Liv, nor would we let it change our future together.
We make our way through the airport, our carry-ons the only things we brought with us, as this was a fast trip. We drove straight to my mother’s home in Palos Verdes, without a word of our arrival. I didn’t want my mother to find an excuse to flee again. I needed to speak to her now so I can find a way to walk forward with a new version of my life ahead.
The moment I ring the doorbell, I hear my mother yelling on the other end. She has a Ring doorbell, but I know her well enough to predict she didn’t use the phone to check who was on the other side. She only let me install it to appease me, but never really paid much attention to the technology at her fingertips. I have no idea if she even has push notifications turned on to alert her to my arrival.
The moment she swings the door open, my mother’s vibrant smile dissipates, and she’s left staring at Becca and me. The shock in her expression is evident the minute she puts two-and-two together that I know about the letter.
There is no other reason I would be here other than to discuss this with her. She is smart enough to deduce what has led to this encounter. And her reaction confirms my theory that she knew I was a father and never told me in all the years we’ve interacted. It’s hard not to react, but I keep myself calm as I stare back at the one person who should have always had my back.
Without saying a word, she opens the door wider and motions with her hand for us to come in. I can’t even attempt to crack a smile. I can see Becs by my side, her lips in a firm line, keeping her expression like stone as we enter.
I think as much as Becca was calming me down on the plane, she was keeping her emotions from boiling over. I know she’s furious, but I also know her love for me has always been first and foremost. Even in high school, as she recalls it, she simply let my mother give her the cold shoulder, not allowing that to deter Becs from loving me.
We enter and leave our luggage in the foyer. She offers us something to drink, but we both decline. I don’t expect to stay long. I think the explanation is all I need at this time. I will need time to process how I feel about her actions.
But most of all, I need to hear her explanation for why she would do such a thing to her only child. Her behavior is unforgivable, but she’s also my mother, and I don’t know if cutting her out completely will serve anyone any good.
Once we are in the family room, my mother sits across from us. Her house is spotless, as it usually is. She has always kept her house clean and tidy, even when I was growing up. For so long I had accepted this as normal, but now I see it’s more sterile than lived in. The cold of her home affected me in a way I hadn’t paid attention to before this moment.
“It’s great to see—” she begins, but I cut her off and I start with my own words.
“Would you care to explain why I lived for nearly twenty-five years without knowing I had a daughter?”
My mother goes silent, but the look on her face tells me all I need to know. She, without a doubt, knew about the pregnancy. I can tell by the way she barely reacted to the news aside from going still, but her eyes don’t look into mine. She is, in all reality, looking everywhere but in my eyes.
My tone is nothing but stern. I’m not shouting at her, but I’m also using a voice I have never used with her. I am keeping myself as calm as I can because the way I feel broken inside is something she will never fully comprehend.
We sit there, in silence, the tension rolling off all of us, as I wait for a response.
“Shane, I…” she begins but stops.
I think she hasn’t found a good way to tell her side yet, and I will not make this easier on her. I stare back at her and wait for her to suck it up and let me know why she impacted not only my life but the lives of two innocent beings I love so much.
“Shane, I’m not sorry for my behavior years ago.”
I see no remorse in her expression, and I honestly don’t know who is sitting across from me right now. She’s not crying in the way I was expecting. She’s stone cold, as if just her simple words would be enough explanation for me to get up from this couch and feel content with her behavior.
“I did what I thought was best for you at that time.”
