Is this woman for real?!
After eight years of no contact whatsoever, not even one goddamn word or even a birthday card, she chooses now to lay this bomb on me?
I mean, who does this?
My mother, that’s who.
It’s official. The woman is either psychotic or so self-involved, she has no idea how hurtful it is to hear her admit that she just went about her life as normal after she left us. Especially considering I just lost the only parent who actually gave a shit about me.
“As I see it, you’ve had four years to tell me of her existence. Why the sudden rush now?” I manage to say, proud that my voice comes out crisp and arctic instead of hurt.
“Val, you might hate me. And you have good cause for it, but don’t blame an innocent child for my shortcomings.”
“How did you know Dad was dead?” I ask, instead of keeping to the topic at hand.
I’d say about anything to steer clear from that heartache, even if it means summoning another.
“Your father and I still emailed each other once a month after we divorced. He knew that you weren’t ready to open the lines of communication with me yet, but he wanted me to watch you grow up—even if from afar, and only in pictures and videos. He was always kind like that. Never one to hold grudges for long,” she explains wistfully, but all I feel is betrayal that my father gave this woman any knowledge of my wellbeing.
She didn’t deserve an ounce of his mercy. But she’s right. My father never held hate in his heart for anyone. I, on the other hand, have it in spades. “Last month, when he didn’t contact me, I got worried,” she continues. “Since we still had mutual friends back in Detroit, I reached out to as many as I could to find out if everything was alright with you both. But I guess I was too late. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come in time for the funeral,” she states, sounding actually apologetic.
“I’m not. Trust me, your absence wasn’t felt.”
“That may be so, but I’m still sorry I wasn’t there. You should have had family with you.”
“I have my family,” I snap, my spine suddenly ramrod straight as I confront her.
“So I see,” she muses, looking behind me.
I throw a glance over my shoulder and see that Logan is planted in the threshold of our living room. He must have been there the whole time, wanting to make sure he’d be close in case I needed him. I want to smile at his protectiveness of me, but my mother’s presence robs any warm sentiment I may hold.
“I’ll be in town for the next couple of days, and I was wondering if you would like to have lunch with me. Maybe tomorrow when you aren’t so busy,” she adds, as she takes stock of my knee length robe and Logan’s disheveled hair.
If she’s trying to get any insight into my life as it is now, my face gives nothing away.
“I’m staying at the Dilworth until Friday. I’d love it if you could come and maybe meet Kara if you are up for it.”
I bite my inner cheek at the mention of my little sister’s name.
“Okay,” she mumbles dejectedly, her eyes cast on my face, waiting for me to say something in return. When she realizes that I’ve said all I have to say to her, she calls defeat on this dreadful visit. “I guess I’ll be going now, but I really hope you reconsider, Valentina. I know I haven’t been the mother you deserved, but I’d like us to get to know each other. Maybe even become friends. I won’t ask for more than that.”
“You shouldn’t ask for anything at all. You lost that right years ago.”
“I know, but that won’t deter me from asking anyway.” She shrugs with a sheepish smile.
She starts to walk past me, but hesitates her step when she’s shoulder to shoulder with me, almost as if she wants to reach out and touch me. I turn away from her just in case the urge for her to do so increases. Taking in my silent rebuke, she proceeds to walk past me and only stops when she reaches Logan.
“Are you Val’s boyfriend?”
“Yes,” he deadpans with the same cold tone I used on her.
“I thought as much. Thank you for being here for my daughter. I’m sure she is just as grateful as I am.”
She goes to the door and opens it, but before she takes another step, she turns around to say something else. It’s at this exact moment that Quaid decides to walk down the stairs in his sweat pants and nothing else. Her brows furrow in confusion, looking over at Logan and then back at me. Quaid stops in his tracks and crosses his muscular arms over his chest, waiting for her to say something.
She doesn’t.
She just walks out the door, her lips slanted into a thin line without uttering another word. When the door finally shuts, my whole body starts trembling. Logan rushes to my side at record speed.
“Baby, you okay?” Logan whispers lovingly, running a comforting hand through my hair.
I nod that I am, but my shivering form disagrees.
“Was that who I think it was?” Quaid asks, coming closer to my side.
“Hmm. That was my mother.”
“Jesus. How are you holding up, babe?”
“Like someone just ran a knife through my heart and twisted it.” I fake laugh.
“That sounds like it hurts like a motherfucker,” Quaid replies lightheartedly, and I chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood.
“She told me I have a sister.”
“I heard,” Logan says. “Do you want to meet her?”
“Would you think less of me if I said I did?”
“No. It’s understandable. Just because your mom was a grade-A bitch for leaving you and your dad when times got rough, doesn’t mean you can switch off your feelings just as easily when it comes to a little sister you didn’t even know you had.”
“She just went about her life. Not even thinking of me at all. Kara is four. Four years, she could have told me, reached out to me. Something.”
“Apparently, she did through your father. Maybe they both thought you weren’t ready for her to come back into your life. Not until your wounds were still so raw.”
“Are you defending her?” I question Logan, ignoring that he just put my father and her in the same colluding metaphorical boat.
“No, Val. I’m just trying to see both sides for your sake. Right now, you’re hurting too much, and I don’t want you to make a decision you might regret in the future.” He presses a kiss to my temple as Quaid squeezes my hand in his.
Carter comes into the living room and sees our destitute expressions, suspicious as to why we’re in the room to begin with.
“What did I miss?”
Where do I start?
My hands have never been this clammy. I try to wipe them off on my dress, but reconsider since I don’t want to ruin it by leaving a stain. When I called Adrienne earlier this morning saying that I’d like to meet Kara, she explained that they were going to the zoo, and that I should come with. The familial outing nauseated my stomach, but I agreed to it anyway.
Either morbid curiosity pushed me to come here, or the deep seated need to have this woman who turned her back on me to love me.
When I get there, Adrienne introduces me as an old friend of hers to my blonde, big blue-eyed little sister. I don’t correct her, but my heart does pinch at the impersonal greeting. Kara holds on to her father’s hand, curiosity swimming in her eyes as she asks me question after question in her endearing British accent.