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“They're not dirty details, Mom. They're your life.”
My mom gives me a look, but she doesn't say anything else.
“I wish I did better by you,” she nearly whispers as her voice breaks in the lobby. She stops herself from crying and all I can do is hug her harder.
It all happens so fast, yet it feels like every second drags on. All the while every memory of when I could or should have said or done something, like call the cops, plays in the back of my mind. I was only a kid. But I knew it wasn’t normal. I knew she needed help I couldn’t give her.
“I love you, Mom,” is all I can say. I don’t have words for any of this. I only have pain and I don’t want it, I don’t want to give it to anyone else either.
She hugs me goodbye on the sidewalk outside the lawyer's office and we go our separate ways.
Back home I clean my apartment, then check my bank balances, and take a bath. I have a drugstore face mask to use afterward in an attempt at “self-care.”
I end up crying halfway through it and ruining the mask. It almost ruins the rest of the evening, too. I'm drowning in all my emotions but especially the anger. Anger at myself, my mother, and most of all a man who won’t ever see consequences for what he’s done. After I wash the mask off and sit with a cool cloth over my eyes, my face doesn't look much better.
My phone pings and I stare at it, like I should be angry at it too.
Griffin: How are things today?
Renee: Okay
With a deep breath I wonder if I should write anything else, but I don’t want to. It’s like a dam building up when all I want it to do is drain. I think of how I told my mom that her life isn't made up of dirty details, and I feel like a hypocrite.
For the second night in a row, I toss and turn, thinking about everything I could have changed along the way. I miss Griffin so much that I fall asleep way too late again and sleep through my alarm.
Luckily my shift at the bar doesn't start first thing, so I have time to shower and do my makeup. I need it badly. Especially the concealer.
I'm a ball of nerves on the way to the bar. If Griffin didn’t know about my emotional state, I wouldn’t be nervous. I could put on my smile and pretend this was my way out. That all those tips will fill that jar and I could use it to buy all my problems away.
But Griffin does know and that makes the smile harder to pull off.
I meant it when I said that there are some things I don't talk about.
I know he meant it when he said he would listen.
But he just can't understand how knowing those things will take over everything else. He'll always look at me differently, and that’s not what I want out of my life, or out of his.
Although he’s already looking at me differently, and I hate that too. I’m not handling this well, I know that. But that’s why I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t know how to…fuck. I don’t know how to do this. How to deal with all of this without doing it all wrong. I’m trying, but every time I start to deal with it, I just remember everything and then cry all over again.
Twisting my hands on the steering wheel, I prepare myself to just shut it all down. I can do that and it’s always been enough before.
I park out by the road and go around the building to come in through the front. Before I get to the door, I force my best smile on and tilt my chin up. I'm happy today. I'm moving forward with my life. There’s nothing to talk about.
When I go into the bar, it's half full with people eating, talking, and drinking. I’m grateful for that. The music's quiet, like it always is in the afternoons, but there's a feeling of excitement, too. We're getting close to the holiday. I almost forgot that. The reminder is a blessing.
I feel him before I see him. All of my thoughts pause and for a moment I’m scared. Griffin's behind the counter. His eyes are on me the second the front door closes behind me, so I make a point of looking at him and smile. The skin around my eyes is all tight from crying, but I push through it.
Please don’t ask me. Just pretend.
Griffin smiles back, and I know just from the look on his face that he can see right through me.
Please don’t ask me. Just pretend.
He doesn't follow me to the break room this time. He's probably trying to give me some space, because he's a good man, and I know he heard me when I spoke to him last night. He's being careful with me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to make it up to him.
I don’t know how yet but I know I need to. I don’t want to lose him.
With a steadying breath and a decision to have a good night at work regardless of everything else, I head out of the break room and throw myself into my shift. The habits of taking orders and refilling drinks and bringing out food help the time to pass. I catch Griffin looking at me once or twice and I smile at him both times. There’s a look in his eyes that makes me uneasy. I want him to lean over me and kiss me by the register with everybody only a few feet away. I want him to forget that I’m upset and just pretend like I do. This bar is my escape but tonight it doesn’t feel like it. Because of him.
