“No sane person kills themselves,” her mother insisted.
Mia was immune to Jane’s attempts to obfuscate. “Who was the letter to? What did it say?”
“It was to you,” Jane admitted easily, and Mia experienced a pang. Of course Andy had written his final words to her. She’d always been his shoulder to cry on, the one to lend an ear or give advice, the one who’d always loved him unconditionally. “But I don’t remember what it said,” Jane was quick to add.
“Sure you do,” Mia argued. “You just said it was filled with the ravings of a—”
“The details, Mia,” Jane snarled. “I don’t remember the details.”
Mia dragged a slow breath in through her nose. “Do you supposed Luda would remember the details?”
Hatred.
That’s what Mia saw in her mother’s eyes then.
Pure, unadulterated hatred.
Through a jaw that looked like it wanted to snap shut around each word, her mother gritted, “You know what it said. You’ve alluded to that fact twice now.”
Confusion had Mia’s brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb and coy with me, Daughter,” Jane hissed. “You forget I’m your mother. I carried you in my belly for nine months. I know you better than anyone.”
Mia could’ve said Jane didn’t know her all. She could’ve said Jane was a “mother” in title only. Instead she demanded, “When have I alluded to knowing what was in Andy’s letter?”
“At Gene and Georgetti’s you said you weren’t the only one responsible for what happened to Andy. You said I had a role in things. And then you texted Carter that, given our history, you needed to keep up the boundaries you set with me.”
A cold foreboding scratched up Mia’s spine until goose bumps peppered her flesh. “What did Andy’s letter say, Mother?” she demanded through gritted teeth.
Jane narrowed her eyes. It was obvious she was trying to determine if Mia was playing some sort of mind game, or if Mia really didn’t know what the hell Jane was talking about.
Jane waved a hand and said flippantly, “He said he was sorry for ending his life on your birthday, but that he really believed the best gift he could give you was to relieve you of the burden he’d been to you his whole life.”
Hot, sharp tears stabbed at the backs of Mia’s eyes.
Poor, sweet Andy. She felt his loss as keenly as if it’d happened ten minutes earlier instead of ten years earlier. How could you have ever believed yourself anything other than a blessing? You were my baby brother. I loved every last piece of you.
“He said he’d been working with a new psychiatrist who’d helped him gain some clarity through...” Jane frowned as if she was trying to remember. Then her face cleared. “I think he used the term regression. Anyway, this supposed clarity made him realize he’d failed to end his life so many times before because, even though he didn’t want to go on living, he didn’t truly feel like he could leave this world until he’d convinced you that you weren’t responsible for what happened to him.”
Mia knew her mother was telling the truth because Andy had said almost those exact words to her dozens of times. “What else?” she demanded.
“Nothing else.” Jane blinked innocently. “That’s all I can remember.”
“Bullshit,” Mia hissed and watched her mother’s chin jerk back. “I can tell you’re lying. Now either you finish telling me what was in Andy’s letter, or I’ll call up Luda. You know if I get the information from her, you’ll have lost the opportunity to put your particular spin on it.”
Jane’s pupils dilated. It was obvious she was hiding something. But like any true narcissist, she latched onto the bait of telling the tale in her own words. “He rambled on about how his newest therapist had helped him see the truth. How she’d helped him remember the night you both ended up in the hospital.” Her mother hesitated then, and Mia thought for sure she saw a spark of fear flash in Jane’s eyes.
“And?” she demanded.
“And he said it wasn’t you who gave him the pills.”
Mia frowned. “Then who was it?”
But as soon as the question tumbled from her mouth, a disjointed memory flickered through her head like one of those old reel-to-reel movies on the fritz.
Her mother putting Andy in bed beside Mia, still wearing the green cocktail dress she’d worn to the fun-raiser.
Her mother coaxing her to drink a glass of water that tasted bitter and felt gritty on her tongue.
Her mother whispering, “Shhh. Go back to sleep.”
Mia jerked out of the muddled recollection with a start. Her voice was barely a whisper when she said, “You.” Her hand jumped to her chest as if it thought to keep her pounding heart from beating through her rib cage. “You tried to kill us. I remember.”
After all these years, the mist cleared and she finally, finally remembered.
Jane could’ve won an Oscar for her performance then. She widened her eyes in shock, gasped sharply, and said, “I did no such thing!”
But Mia knew she had. “Why?” she demanded, staring at her mother’s hair and wondering how it was that Jane managed to cover her horns. Breathing through her mouth because she thought for sure the smell of sulfur must be wafting through the air.
Her own mother hadn’t just tried to kill her once, she’d tried to kill her twice! The second time obviously because she’d thought Mia had remembered about the first time. Just like poor Andy.
Mia had always known Jane was selfish and cruel, but it was so much more than that. The woman who’d birthed her was actually evil.
“I’m admitting nothing.” Jane darted another quick glance toward the blinking camera light.
“Did Dad suspect?” Mia asked hoarsely. “Is that why he sent us to live with Granny Susan?”
Jane sniffed and licked her lips, which made the smile she sent Mia look greasy. “He sent you to live with your grandmother because I was always the most important thing to him. He knew I didn’t care for motherhood.”
Mia could only shake her head in wonder and horror. She didn’t believe her mother for an instant. Her father may not have known that Jane had been the one behind the overdose, but Mia felt sure he’d had his suspicions.
Jane being Jane, however, had twisted the narrative inside her own head to make it seem like he’d done it out of his overwhelming adoration of her. It was truly astounding.