The Trouble With Goodbye

Chapter Five

It's almost noon before I roll out of bed and get in the shower. I turn the water up as hot as it will go and take my time.

When I'm dressed and I know I can't avoid it any longer, I head downstairs to the kitchen where I know I'll find my mother.

"Good morning." There's a knot in my stomach as I wait for her to tear me apart for destroying the car. I'm sure Milton's called by now to say the car was in a lot worse shape than I let on.

Mom sets her coffee mug down on the table and jumps up from her spot. Her arms wrap around my neck and she pulls me close, shocking the hell out of me. This is so not the reaction I was expecting.

I put my arms around her and suddenly we're really hugging each other for the first time in years.

"Oh, Leigh Anne, why didn't you tell us how bad your accident was last night?" Her voice is a scratchy whisper. She pulls out of the hug and takes both of my hands in hers. She looks me up and down. Her forehead is fixed in a worried series of harsh wrinkles. "We should have taken you straight to the emergency room. Milton sent me a snapshot of that car and, oh my god, you could have been killed."

There are actual tears forming in her eyes. I don't know what to say.

"I didn't want you to be mad about the car." As soon as the words hit my tongue, I know I sound like a scared teenager rather than a twenty-year-old woman.

"Your father and I don't care about that car. We can always just buy you a new one," she says. "I feel awful for the way I acted last night. I should have been kissing that boy's feet for rescuing you and bringing you home. I can't imagine how scared you must have been."

I shrug, but I'm actually really relieved. One less argument that needs to happen between us.

"I'm not hurt," I say, not that she's actually asked me how I'm feeling. "My shoulder and my neck are both sore, but it's nothing major."

"Here, come sit down." She pulls a chair out from the table and pats the back of it. "Do you want some coffee? I have some stuff to make sandwiches if you're hungry. Or pancakes? Do you want me to make you some pancakes?"

I smile, then walk past her to get my own mug out of the pantry. "I can get my own coffee, Mom, it's fine."

Her shoulders relax and she nods. "Of course you can," she says. She sits back down at her place where she's been reading a gardening magazine. "Did you want to eat lunch here, then? Or go out? We could go to the club if you wanted to get out of the house for a while. Why don't you give Preston or Penny a call? Let them know you're back in town. They'll be dying to see you."

Preston is the guy I dated for two years in high school. The guy my mother desperately wants me to end up with, even now. Probably especially now.

Penny is his twin sister and was my best friend growing up.

I should want to see them, but the thought of facing them right now makes me feel nauseous. Will they be able to tell I'm different?

I pour my coffee and fill it with cream and sugar. "I think I want to stay kind of close to home for a few days if that's okay," I say. "I'm not sure I'm ready to face everyone right now."

She presses her lips into a thin line. "I know it's been tough for you the past year, but I really think you will be so glad you decided to come home."

We've had this conversation before. She never wanted me to go off to school in the first place, so as soon as she found out what happened, she was pushing me to move back home. At the time, I swore I would never move back here. Not because of him. It would be like giving him some kind of control over me.

When Molly came forward a few months ago, I just couldn't handle it anymore.

"Besides, it's not like any of your friends know what happened, thank goodness." She flips the page of her magazine.

I grip my mug tighter. She is completely clueless about what I'm going through. About what I've been going through all this time. All she thinks about is how it would look if the truth got out. She worries what her friends would think and how prospective rich husbands might pass right on by if they knew I was damaged goods.

She doesn't come out and say all those things, but I know her well enough to know that's what she means.

I want to tell her that no one knowing is part of the problem. It's not easy to carry a secret like this around and never be able to really talk to anyone about what it was like for me. The thought of hanging out with all my friends and having to pretend I'm the same-that this event has not altered me forever-is pure torture. She thinks by moving here and slipping back into my old life, I'll be able to move on and forget.

Only, this isn't the kind of thing I can forget. I've tried.

Instead, it hangs over me like a shroud and with every day that goes by, I feel more and more alone in this world.

I know she doesn't understand. She truly thinks she's doing what's best for me. And I don't know. Maybe she's right. Maybe Fairhope is where I belong.

Where I've always belonged.

I just need a few days to convince myself of that before I dive head-first back into a life I thought I left behind.