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“Where’d he go?” I ask.
Liz turns to me. “All I know is that Julie got a text back saying he was fine, but she didn’t say where he was. What happened between you two that he didn’t even come back to celebrate his win?”
What happened is that I shit on his parade. I was too big a baby to see past my meltdown. He was right. I am the immature one. I am the one who needs to grow the fuck up.
“I need to be alone for a little while,” I tell them.
“Mom, do you want me to sleep with you tonight?” Reese asks.
“No, kid. I love you,” I say, kissing the top of her head, then turn to Liz. “You, too, Lizard. Thank you for the car. It was too much, but you know I love it.”
“You deserve it, kitten.”
There is so much to reflect on as I lay in the dim light that spills through my sheer curtains. It’s one of those rare nights where it’s cool enough to enjoy the breeze through a cracked window, and listen to the frogs, lizards, crickets, and who knows what else out there. I will close it before I fall asleep, or else I’ll wake up soaked with the dew that will somehow filter into the room. But for now, I’ll enjoy this wild calm that’s the perfect soundtrack to the turmoil in my mind.
Why am I this way? Why do I feel the need to rebel against what anyone says? It’s not endearing or cute. It’s a major flaw that has governed the way I live my life. And now it’s ruined it.
Thinking of my biggest regret, I pull out the thing I’d found in Key West when in our pajamas we drove around sightseeing. We stopped at a convenience store/tourist trap. While the bearded young man behind the counter hopelessly flirted with Reese, Sher shopped for Stephen and his man, and Liz made a phone call, I perused the shelves. In one crowded corner, full of little model cars, I saw a blue Jeep, almost the same color as Dean’s.
“Perfect!” I said to myself, then squealed with glee when I pushed the button on the side and the prerecorded song “Who Got the Keys” to my Jeep by SKIY came on. There was a sign at the register that said they did engravings and monograms. “Would you be able to engrave this?” I asked the guy.
Glassy eyes turned from my daughter to me, and he nodded. I don’t know if he meant to, but he was stuck trying to achieve it. He did a great job, actually, placing a tiny “Dean” on the license plate.
It was meant to be that I found this for Dean’s birthday. Then of course, I forgot to give it to him.
For the first time in my life, as I turn the little Jeep in my hands, knowing that I’ve lost something great because of stubbornness and pride, I cry for a man. No one has had the benefit of my tears, not even Lenny who broke my teenage heart. But Dean…
Maybe it’s that my heart’s not actually broken. It’s shredded. Completely obliterated by my own hand. Sobs wrack my body and it’s impossible to contain the sound. The door crashes in and I feel Reese holding me again. “Momma. I’m so sorry,” she says, crying with me. Rocking me. “It was just a hard competition and you were so amazing. There will be other opportunities. Come with me to New York. You can open your own place there. Maybe you could do personal training.”
As her words sink in I stop crying. The competition. Yet another thing my childishness gave up. I know there are so many opportunities. Without the backing of Maxx, my loan is forfeit. It doesn’t mean I couldn’t find another way.
Reese does sleep with me tonight, with her arm and leg thrown over me. I can hardly breathe with the weight, but enjoy every minute of it because I know this may be the last time. I love her beyond life. I would give anything for her. I cannot fathom how a mother could not. And maybe therein lies my problem. I cannot fathom how a mother could not love her daughter.
I rise with the sun.
“Where are you going?” Reese asks me through a yawn, stretching.
“To face my past.”
Fresh cut grass cushions my steps as I walk a path I’ve never been on, following the little map the receptionist gave me. Careful not to step on anyone’s grave, I look for the Mimosa tree that will guide the way to the one I seek.
She’s almost directly in the shade of the tree with the red feathery tips, between my father and a man named Howard Bing.
I stare down at the marble slab, holding the daisies meant for her. “Beatrice JoAnna Duransulet, Beloved Wife and Mother.”
It’s really strange. I always thought that if and when I visited my mother’s grave, I’d feel something. Anger, love, pain, sadness, resentment. But I feel none of those things. I feel… nothing.
I came seeking answers, thinking that somehow I’d sense her. Maybe she could tell me why she didn’t want me. If I’d have stayed and continued to fight for her approval, would I ever have got it? Maybe she’d tell me it had all been a mistake and she regrets it now.
The wind rustles through the trees, bringing with it the peace and serenity we come to expect at a place like this. But still no answers from the beyond.
I kneel down, touching two fingers to the smooth stone that marks where she lies, thinking of something deep and meaningful to say.
“Momma,” I whisper, but nothing more comes out because there is nothing to say.
Part of me wants to believe that I’d be a different person if my mother had loved me. That perhaps I’d be more like Liz, with self-control, not a self-destruct button. Maybe I’d even be good at relationships.
But the reality of it is that this is the way I am. Have been since birth. Liz was almost born second because I shoved one of my legs through the birth canal just before she was born, but then I chickened out and pulled it back in. It’s like even then I couldn’t pull through.
I realize now there is nothing for me here. Beatrice owes me nothing. She isn’t to blame for any of my fuckups. I am who I am, because that is who I am.
At the same time, she has nothing to do with my successes. As I think of it, it dawns on me that I HAVE been very successful. Everything I have ever wanted, I’ve got. Perhaps not in the exact order I wanted it in, but I’ve got there. Work, my kid… a wonderful man.
Looking down, I sigh and let out a long breath. And with it all the resentment I’ve held onto for too long.
“You rest in peace, Momma,” I say to her as I place some daisies on her grave, then look to my dad’s and do the same on his.
When I turn to leave, I see a lone figure walking towards me. My breathing deepens and my heart races as I wait for him. Dean.
