Blue 2

Chapter Thirty-Four

After an hour of promptly soaking each other and falling even deeper in love with Blue, we walk back to the house. I shiver against the warm breeze clashing with my drenched clothes. Being the gentleman he is, Blue wraps his arms around me, offering me warmth I gladly accepted. I am in dire need of a pot of hot coffee and a steaming shower. If I'd known I would be splashing in a pond we were prohibited from stepping foot in, I would have brought a change of clothes.

At the front door, my mother answers the front door and her eyes almost fall out of her head as she looks us up and down while gesturing us inside the house.

"Oh my God. What happened to you two? Was there a flash flood? We haven't had one in two weeks," she says and closes the door behind us.

"You could say something like that," Blue murmurs.

I laugh. "We're going to go dry off," I tell her, and she nods frantically.

"There are some sandwiches leftover if you're feeling hungry. I managed to stop Peter from eating all of them." She chuckles pats down her apron dress. Not a single strand of her chestnut hair is out of place. Her makeup is light but perfect in every way, and I get a peek of a pearl necklace under her dress. While I was younger and wishing I had my mother, she was mothering her two flawless kids and being a model housewife for her famous, rich husband. Even if I don't hate her for going after what made her happy, I'm not sure I can forgive her for leaving me with a broken heart.

"Are you all right, honey? You look a bit pale." She frowns and reaches a hand out to touch my forehead. I turn away before she can touch me though. She doesn't get to feel sorry for me or try to act like a parent. I'm not saying she isn't one, she is... just not mine. Not really.

"I'm going to go shower. Blue, come on." I speak low and avoid her concerned gaze.

"Let's go." He doesn't hesitate. He takes my hand in his and pulls me up the grand staircase. I ignore the look of disappointment etched into my mother's glamorous face.

In the large bedroom, I head straight for the ensuite. I need to shower and forget that look on her face. I know she's told me time and time again how sorry she is for leaving me and my dad, and that she wants to move on with me in her life, but I can't get past her living this life for nineteen years without me. She never wanted me. Not when I was an infant and certainly not now. Her expensive therapist probably just convinced her to seek my forgiveness to get anxiety over which designer handbag she should buy using her husband's black card. I get undressed and step into the rain shower, turning the heat all the way up. Tears well in my eyes and I will them away and scrub my skin with a bar soap. I just need to wash myself off and then I'll be fine. Screw my mother, she doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

A knock on the door is muffled by the pounding water.

"Can I come in?" Blue asks, his voice barely audible.

I want to shower alone where I can think. But I don't want to think. I want to wash my mother out of my head, forever, but she's a Sharpie mark on a dry-erase board. She won't go away unless I throw the whole board out. I wish I could un-mother her, like she un-daughtered me. I really do hate her. I know I should love my mother and thank her for birthing me, but she regrets having me; she ran away the second realization she'd be my caregiver for the rest of my life. I hate her, and I hate myself for crying over her, because I should not care about her.

Feeling something touch my shoulder, I jump and turn around to find a naked Blue stretching his arms wide. His eyes are soft with sympathy, his unruly hair plastered to his face, and he gently tugs me into his hard but very comfortable body. He doesn't say anything as I cry into his shoulder; only whispers sweet nothings and rubs my back comfortingly. I want to thank him, to hug him back, but I'm too drained to do anything but cry and wish I could not hate my mother after eighteen fucking years.