She nods, but doesn't say anything. I can see the tears in her eyes. It sort of breaks my heart to leave, but I walk down the stairs slowly, steadying my head and my heart. Willing them to align and be reasonable.
When I get into my car, I plug my phone in to charge and exhale.
I'll text Ivy when I get home, make it up to my boss at work tomorrow, and life will march forward fairly normally for me. I wish I could say that Ava's would follow the same path, but I know it won't. She's going to have major ups and downs, and things will even out eventually, but she's got to want to get there for that to happen. She seems motivated.
Almost as if on auto-pilot, I arrive home. Cat is eager to see and sniff me, giving me a look of betrayal when he smells Ava.
"I know, buddy. She'll come see you soon."
I'm not sure it's true, but it makes me feel better to say it.
I walk around my house with a new appreciation. There are photographs on my walls, stories and memories. I'm lucky to have been able to buy this place a few years back. It's small, but cozy. It's mine.
After I got divorced, I wasn't sure I would ever have anything that was mine ever again. I was convinced I wouldn't be able to move on, wouldn't be able to find a new baseline. But I had before, and I will again, if anything shatters my world.
Pulling a mug down from the cabinet, I start the kettle and grab a bag of tea. I pick Lady Grey, because it reminds me so much of my mom. The tears start without me even realizing it, and I grab my phone to text her. It's just a few words, but I know she won't ask questions.
Can you visit?
She texts me back after a few minutes and it's a picture of her packed bag, along with the words see you soon honey and my whole body relaxes.
I check the fridge and think about what to make for dinner. She'll probably arrive late, so I'm not sure she'll even want to eat. Just her normal bowl of ice cream, maybe.
The thought makes me smile, and check the freezer.
Sure enough, I'm out of her favorite brand of butter pecan, so I ruffle Cat's scruff, change my clothes, and jump back into the car. While I'm at the store, I grab a few other things I know she loves and everything to make a chicken Caesar salad with fresh, homemade croutons.
When I get back home, I check the sheets on the guest bed. I can't remember the last person who visited, but I know I cleaned everything back up, so I'm set there. There's a towel in the bathroom, and I dig out my mom's favorite soaps that I keep stashed away for when she and dad visit.
I chop the salad and cube up the bread, listening to my favorite songs while I work. My phone chirps and I think it's Mom giving me an update, but it's a text from Ava.
thank you for being here
I don't really know what to say back, so I leave the message without a reply for the moment. When dinner is ready, I open a bottle of wine and let it breathe on the counter. I decide to fix a snack plate for us.
Finally, when there's no more puttering I can possibly do in the kitchen, I head back into the living room and fall into the couch. Cat curls up on my stomach and I pet him as he purrs louder than ever.
I know that I'm going to need to talk to someone other than Cindy about the emotions that are stirred up inside of me, and it feels unfair to burden my mom, but she also feels like the right person. I can't continue to carry everything; I get brief respite from the ache in my chest and the pit in my stomach, but it's becoming too much.
A few hours later, after plenty of time to catch up on my shows with Cat, there's a tiny knock at the door.
"Hey, darling, these were out on the porch," she says, bringing in a bouquet almost bigger than her head. "Didn't hear the doorbell when they arrived?"
"I guess not."
I look at the flowers and realize they weren't delivered by a service; there's a handwritten note larger than the stupid tiny cards they usually have, and a beautiful vase. I set the note from Ava aside to read later.
"Oh, no one rang the bell," I say. "Looks like they were hand delivered."
Once we're inside and she's set the flowers down, I pull my mom in for the longest hug ever.
"Are you hungry? I made dinner. And snacks."
"That's great, yes. Let's eat and catch up."
Her smile is always so warm, it's never been a mystery why my mom was the glue of our tiny community growing up. She's more genuine than most people I've met. Although I suppose I'm biased.
I gather the salad from the fridge and the bowls from the cabinet while she grabs forks and pours the wine.
My table isn't the most comfortable, but we sit next to each other and she waits patiently. Between bites, I open my mouth to speak, then close it. I can't figure out what it is that I so desperately need to say, which is more frustrating than it should be. I asked her to come all this way, and now I can't even tell her why.
"You know, you don't have to say anything."
It's almost like she can read my mind. Or she's been watching me pantomime being a fish.
"I know, but I need to. I can't believe I have to work tomorrow, and there are just some things I have to get out."
She nods, piercing another piece of salad, and makes eye contact with me again.
"Well, you might as well start getting it out then, eh?"
No nonsense, that's Carol.
"You know there's nothing you could have done for me, could have done to prevent what happened to me, right?"
"Well..." She pauses to take a long sip of wine. "Which event do you mean, exactly? I'm not trying to put you on the spot, there have just been a few I can think of, so I'm not sure and I want to answer your question completely."
"I suppose I mean all of them, or well, both that I can think of. You couldn't have prevented my awful marriage. And you definitely couldn't have prevented me from being raped."
It's been a few years since I've said the word out loud, and it catches in my throat.
Her hand reaches to cover mine, and I'm struck by how time has affected her. Her strong, capable hands have turned soft and paper-thin.
"It took me a long time, but yes, I do realize that I couldn't have prevented either of those things. Why do you ask?"
"It's just-" I pause, knowing that it still isn't my story to tell, but I need my mom's comfort and reassurance. I need someone to tell me that I'm not crazy for feeling guilty about something that happened before I even knew her. "You gotta keep this in the lockbox, okay?"
She nods, squeezing my hand.
"Ava was attacked. Brutally attacked by three men. She's going through all the same things I did, and I can't tell her about what happened to me, but I also feel so guilty."
"Why do you feel guilty? Were you there?"
I can see the concern in my mom's eyes; she's not being rhetorical, she doesn't know any details yet.
"No, I wasn't there. It was before we met. But the pit is still in my stomach. I can't take her pain away, can't make her feel better. I can't do anything, and I just feel so helpless."
My mom closes her eyes and nods. "Let's take our wine into the living room?"
"Sure."
We walk in, and I let her pick her favorite place to sit, sitting opposite her.
"As a mother, there are so many things you hope your kids never have to experience. I never could have guessed that sending you away to college would have broken you so much. It was just unthinkable to me. But there were so many times I stayed up all night, after it happened. I would just sob myself silly in the kitchen with Jelly, and your father would find me in the morning."
I listen intently, because I truly had no idea.
"He would try to talk to me, try to reason with me and remind me that there was nothing I could have done, but I felt so strongly that if I had encouraged you to go to college closer, or somewhere abroad, maybe, that wouldn't have happened."
"Maybe. But it wasn't your fault that it did happen."
"No, it wasn't directly my fault, but I understand the guilt feelings. It took me a long time to really understand them, and I still wonder, still sort of ... not really blame myself, but... "
She's wringing her hands as she talks, and I'm wondering if I made the wrong choice by asking her to relive all of this with me. I needed her, but maybe it was selfish to bring it all back up for her. I had no idea.
"I'm so sorry, Mom. I didn't know. I mean, I wondered if I was the only one feeling this way for Ava, but I didn't mean to bring it all back up for you, too."
"Oh, honey." She exhales and shakes her head. "There's nothing we can do now except learn from what we've done in the past. When you met your ex, well... I asked your father what we should do. You were just in such bad shape, you weren't ready to make any decisions. And the way you got railroaded into everything was just terrible. But there were these glimpses there, of who you used to be. You would sometimes have these moments of sheer happiness, and I couldn't deny you that. Not after everything else. You don't have to feel bad bringing anything up for me. This is just what moms do, you know? I'm sorry that we didn't do more, couldn't be more. Couldn't give you more." She trails off quietly into silence.
"Mom, you gave me all the important things."
She shakes her head, looking down at her hands.
"No, really. You did so much for us," I say. "You gave us so much more than things."
"Well, my own guilt about that doesn't matter much anymore, does it? Can't go back and change it. Do you want to tell me more about Ava?"
My smile draws across my face. "Yes."
"You're a lovely shade of pink, dear."
I can't help but laugh. "She makes me happy, not for any other reason aside from the fact that she accepts and seems to like me exactly as I am."
"Well, you're quite an amazing young woman. Who wouldn't like you that way?"
I roll my eyes. "You know very well that She Who Shall Not Be Named never did. There were exercise and diet regimens. Books to read and become smarter from. She even hated my job."
"Good thing we're done with her." Mom takes a large gulp of wine.
Nodding, I laugh more. "Ava owns a bakery. That's actually how we met, did I tell you that?"
She shakes her head no.
"She lives in a tiny apartment above the bakery, so it always smells like sugar. But she made me four unique cupcakes and gave me her number one day. Four special cupcakes, just for me."
Tears roll down my cheeks.
"She's smart, like, so smart. She lost her mom earlier this year."
My mom gasps. "Oh no, all of that in the same year?"
I nod. "She's so strong, though. If you met her, you would never know how much she's been through. You'd just feel the warmth of her heart and her genuineness."
"Do you think I could meet her?"
I suck a breath in and it comes out shaky. "I... I'm not sure? I think that would be really nice, but I'll have to check with her. For right now, we're just taking things very slow, you know? I thought we were over, that it was all done, but then so much has happened in the last few days. It's all kicked me back into that same place my brain was, where I thought I couldn't touch or love anyone or anything, because I was going to infect it."
Mom nods and finishes her glass of wine. "We could make it a funny coincidence, you know. I could suggest the bakery to meet and catch up with Ivy and just happen to bump into her."
Scheming Carol is one of my favorite versions of my mom. I laugh.
"No, I think I'd like for you to actually meet her. Sit down and talk to her, you know? I don't want to surprise her or spring it on her."
She nods. "That makes sense. Seems wise."
I get up to grab the bottle to refill our wine glasses, knowing I want to keep going with the tough topics, but needing a little liquid courage. While I'm in the kitchen, I grab the box of chocolates I know Mom loves.
"How did you help me get out of that dark place, Mom? I can't even really remember." I curl back up in my spot on the couch, leaving the bottle and chocolates on the coffee table between us.
She laughs. "You don't?" She makes a noise with her mouth, like a hum but something more. "Well, we considered sending you to a treatment facility."
Now it's my turn to laugh.
Then I realize she's serious. She's got a piece of chocolate in her mouth, but she shrugs.
"Holy shit. You did?"
"Yes, Jane. You were so lost, and then you started drinking and hanging out with anyone who would give you the time of day. So many terrible people. So when she came along, we were kind of thankful. At least she was better than some of them you'd brought home. She looked me in the eyes. Of course, if I had known then what I know now, I'd have punched her right in her rat face."
"Mom!" I gasp, bending over from laughter.
"I'm serious. What a bitch."
It shocks me to hear my mom use a sort-of swear word. I take a few drinks from my glass.
"But yeah, someday you should visit your brother and ask him. He wanted to get a gun and a bat and go string that young man who hurt you up, especially after he just walked away from everything, no consequences."
"No!"
All this new information might be too much, but I also can't stop her; I need to know. I shift on the couch, physically uncomfortable.
"Really," she says, nodding. "Your brother loves you so much, and he always felt like it was his job as the older brother to protect you. We had to remind him that he'd get taken away from us forever, too, and we were already so crushed from losing you. I wasn't sure your father could handle both of you gone."
"So, we talked to him about helping you by getting you into a facility somewhere. We agreed it would be here, so that you wouldn't have to come back home. We couldn't tell how much you were drinking, to be honest. Only that you weren't going to work, and could barely hold a phone conversation with us."
I nod, remembering some of the details. We each take turns picking a new piece of chocolate and savoring it.
"Things would have been different if I'd gone away. I might not have met her. But maybe I still would have. It was a different lesson I had to learn. How to value myself, after all of that. I still slip on that one and forget."
"Well, you call me any time you forget your value, Jane. I'll remind you."
"I know."
I look over and smile at her, both of us have watery eyes.
"Thank you, Mom. Thank you for not giving up on me. I can't imagine how awful I was to you in some of those moments."
"Oh, well, you certainly had your moments. But you were in so much pain. We could always see it, always feel it. We knew it was coloring everything you did and said. It was like you were this whole different person."
"I felt like a whole different person. Then I met her, and she was there, re-affirming that I needed to be something or someone else. It fit right in. It felt right for the punishment I kept trying to give myself."
My mom's head tilts and her eyebrows knit together.
"What made you leave, Jane? I don't think I've ever asked."
"She cheated one too many times."
Mom makes a face.
"Yeah, I'm not sure what that was all about, but every time, she would come home and tell me all about it. Tell me about the women she preferred to be with, and how they were so much better than I was. I finally got sick of it and told her that I was leaving, she could go be with any or all of them."
"Amen."
"I tried to leave a few times, actually. Every time, she would convince me that no one was ever going to love me like she did."
"Well, thank God for that," my mom whispers under her breath.
"Right? But it took too long. I'm sorry that it all spilled onto you."
She shrugs. "It's what moms do, pick up the pieces and try to glue them back together."
I start to sob, I can't hold everything back anymore. She's legit the best mom I could have asked for, and to know that she's ever thought she was less than is too much, on top of reliving so much of the trauma. Mom walks to the couch and wraps her arms around me, handing me a tissue.
"It's okay, Jane. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to be anxious and upset and whatever else you feel. Just don't unpack and move in there. That's when you start to live among the rats."
I let her hold me until I'm done crying, which takes longer than I want. I can't just get over it, though. I have to get through it. I appreciate the comfort and safety of her arms, and when I'm sniffling the last of my tears out, I wipe at my face and nose.
"I love you so much, Mom. Everyone deserves a mom like you."
Mom laughs and pulls away a little bit, a funny twinkle in her eyes.
"Any chance you have some of that hot fudge I love?"