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Eyes burning, all I can do is nod.
“You know…she’d want you to be happy, right?” she says, her voice thickening with emotion.
Sniffing, I nod. “I know.”
“Both of you.”
She doesn’t have to specify who she means, and try as I might to remain relaxed, I don’t think I do a very good job, because she chuckles weakly.
Before she can say anything, I say, “It’s not like that.”
A beat passes, then, “You sure?”
Pulling back, I meet her gaze, and nod. This time, it’s not even a lie. Because despite what happened, I know the truth.
Her brows furrow and she searches my face. Fingers come up, brushing my greasy blond hair away. “I hate that I can’t fix this.” The words are simple, but the meaning behind them is anything but. They don’t just carry the weight of all the years she’s seen me struggle with fitting in and accepting myself…
But with the grave, unbearable knowledge that she can’t bring her daughter back.
She’s helpless, and yet she still sits here, with tears in her eyes, holding me up. It’s times like this that I can almost imagine I dreamed up that zombie version of her in those initial years. The one who’d go from forgetting I exist completely when in the same room, only to remember me when I no longer was. For nearly two years, disappearing on her was the only way to get her to look at me.
And while I’ve forgiven her for it—of course I have. We’ve talked about it over the years, together and in therapy…
Sometimes, I still can’t help but worry she’ll forget me again. Especially now with her and Dad traveling more often than not, and me in college.
Then again, being away helps. Makes it easier to keep a wall between me and them, just in case my fears are warranted…the fear that deep down, there is a part of them that blames me. Resents me. Secretly wishes it was Izzy here instead.
“Maybe it’s just not meant to be fixed,” I finally say. I look down at my lap. “Maybe there’s nothing left to fix.”
No body to bring home.
No friendship to hang on to.
It’s all dust.
“I don’t believe that.”
My eyes fall shut.
“You two have always had an incredible bond.”
“Doesn’t count if Izzy’s not around.”
A hand cups my jaw, and she drags my face up, angling it toward her. “Why would you say that?” she asks when I open my eyes.
“He still loves her, Mom,” I whisper.
She frowns. “As do we all.”
“You know what I mean.”
Her mouth opens, closes, and I get the feeling there’s more she wants to say, but instead she just nods shortly, and says, “It’s an impossible feeling to come to terms with. All this love we have for someone who’s no longer here. Where does it go?”
“Exactly,” I whisper, smiling sadly.
She frowns.
“I’m done being some kind of…stand-in for her. A place for him to dump all that love on, because she’s not here to take it.”
