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Heat floods my cheeks as I hear this. Shame for my mother’s behavior overwhelms me, especially in a place meant to be a sanctuary of memories and an honoring place for those who have passed.
I glance over my shoulder to see Ivan, still in the parking lot. He is leaning against the black car, hands folded in front of him. I thank the officers and proceed through the winding paths that weave through the cemetery. Bouquets and flowers are dispersed at the passing gravestones, offerings of human connection to those who have passed.
The closer I get to my mother, the more I hear her rage and disrespect for the men standing there. Irritation floods my veins, and my mother’s voice cuts through the serenity here like a knife.
“I said I was not going anywhere!” she yells.
She stumbles to the side as I get closer to my dad’s resting place, and I gasp. Wine bottles are scattered all around, glass pieces litter the ground, and a crumpled blanket near the headstone is covered in dirt. My jaw aches as I clench it, seething through my teeth. Both the officers there give me a small smile and step back, offering some privacy.
“Mom.” My words are clipped and harsh. I’m sure there is some therapist somewhere who would tell me to be understanding and gentle, but I can’t be. I won’t be.
I’ve dealt with this since my dad’s death. I sympathize with her pain; I’ve battled it too. But grief and pain have swallowed my mom whole, and nothing of my mom was left for me. She didn’t comfort me when I cried over losing my father or be there when I had to work to make ends meet because she wouldn’t. She allowed her grief to own her, and in turn, she disowned me. I love my mom. I want her healthy and thriving, notthis.
“Kate! These officers are … are trying to move me. Make me move.” She watches herself cross her arms before looking back to me.
I survey my father’s grave. “Mom, look at what you’ve done. Why did you do this? This isn’t honoring Dad.” I lace as much cooing into my words as I can, hoping to trigger some self-reflection from her.
“I-I miss him. I need to be close to him. I need to be close to him, Kate. I miss him. Why did he leave me? Why, why, why …” Her hands are coming up, a palm hitting her forehead over and over as she slurs. My heart squeezes in my chest, and I go to her, trapping her hands in mine.
Her grief is palpable, etched into her face. Her makeup is streaked from tears and caked in the fine wrinkles of her face. She sways almost as if disoriented, and I catch the overpowering aroma of alcohol on her breath as she mutters to herself. She is shivering, dressed in only jeans and a shirt, but the alcohol must be numbing her to the cold.
“Mom, I need to get you home. Where is your car?” I scan the parking lot and spot her old Bronco. Grabbing the blanket and shaking it out, I wrap it around my mom and guide her to the officers. “I’m going to get her warmed up in the car, and I’ll be back in a second.”
After getting my mom settled into the passenger seat of the car, I walk back up to my dad’s site. Derek and the officers are talking to the maintenance worker who found my mom.
“Thank you,” I say, “for calling about her. I’m deeply sorry about this.” I gesture to the broken glass and wine bottles smashed near my dad’s headstone, and a few tears roll down my cheeks. The worker gives me a sympathetic smile and removes a garbage bag from his belt.
“Here, let me, please.” I take the bag and whip it open. Kneeling without being stuck with glass is a challenge, but I find a place and attempt to pick up my dad’s site. Derek and both officers step in to help, and my heart swells with gratitude. There hasn’t been a mean or negative thing said about my mom; they only want to help. Derek’s hand squeezes my shoulder, and I peer up at him through wet tears—I didn’t realize I was crying.
When we have finished picking up the garbage, the officers make their way down to their patrol cars to get a copy of the incident report, but Derek lingers.
“I’m going to follow you home,” he says. He doesn’t ask, and I’m not sure I have the energy to argue.
“Okay, thank you.” I sniffle, and my gaze goes back to my dad’s resting place.
“I’ll give you a few minutes.” With that, he walks off down the pathway back to the parking lot.
I squat down to place a hand on the top of his headstone.
“I miss you, Dad.” A sob lodges in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”
Chapter37
Kate
Isigh, focusing on the rearview mirror. Derek is following me back to my mom’s house, and behind him is Ivan.
It’s ridiculous.
At this moment I only want to help my mom get cleaned up and put some food in her. She is currently passed out in the passenger seat, wrapped in the mud-stained blanket. The road finally yields the little blue house and my memories flash to the last time I was here. A shiver makes its way down my spine thinking about Tony—Antonio—in my mom’s space and then Luka.
Luka …
I pull into the driveway and turn the key off, gently shaking my mom to wake her up. She pops her head up and grimaces.
“Where are we?” she manages to say, some of her intoxication waning. I gather up my purse with the incident paperwork, she will need to review and then report to a hearing.
“We’re at the house, let’s go.”
