“Boy, it had to be the best sex you ever had,” Lily interrupts. “Got you crying just thinking about it.”
The fact that I’m crying and they assume it’s from the quality of sex instead of wondering if maybe they’d pushed me to my breaking point is disheartening. I came back to the hotel to make them feel my pain, yet somehow I’m the one hurting again. Even the justice system, fucked up as it is, has rules in place to make sure you don’t get screwed twice for the same shit.
There’s a lump in my throat and I’m struggling to keep it together. I use a breathing exercise on the fly, funneling all the air through my nose. Some book I read about dealing with grief said it should allow me to recenter myself and stay in the moment. I’m gonna guess it was never tested in this scenario, and I don’t remember a money back guarantee, so I’m shit out of luck.
They need to feel your pain. “Anyway,” I say, trying to get back on track, “I lifted her onto the counter and took her shirt off.”
“Will you get to the good shit?” Lily drains the rest of her glass.
“So we’re making out, but I keep stopping her.”
“Performance anxiety happens to the best of us,” Mom says, opening another can of worms that I want no part of.
“Not exactly.”
The breathing exercise isn’t working anymore. I sit in front of them like a science project, each of them having done their own part and waiting to see the final grade.
Do it, Miles. No sense in holding back, the damage has been done.
“So what happened next?” Lily asks.
I wiped my tears away and giggled, savoring their ignorance.
“Well, she pulled me close, and you know what she said?” I asks. “She said that she would never try to replace Sara.”
Their faces couldn’t have changed any quicker if they been shaken in an Etch-a-Sketch. My mother raises her eyebrows, unsure of where I was going with this, but knowing it wasn’t going where she thought it would. Lily, on the other hand, jumped straight into panic mode, forgoing a shot glass and taking a long swig from the bottle. Drink up Lily, the ride is just getting started.
“I know guys, it surprised me too.” The pendulum had swung, and I was now on the offensive, while they sat being scolded like schoolchildren. “Because I went out of my way to make sure she didn’t find out about my situation.”
They stare at each other uncomfortably, confused by the sudden turn of events. If I wasn’t so angry, I’d probably feel sorry for them. Lily rises from her seat and darts to the bar, deciding the vodka on the table wasn’t strong enough—like she’d gotten outside the blast radius. In a way, I should be thanking her; it was her theory of me being distracted that got me out of Melody’s apartment in the first place.
“You always had to be the center of attention, Lily,” I say. “You just couldn’t live with another woman being in my life—”
“Excuse me,” Mom interjects. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“You’ll have your moment in the sun too, trust me,” I shoot back. “But let me get back to Little Miss Sunshine over here.” I turn back to Lily, feeling more confident that I have in months. “So why’d you tell her? I mean, I already left her crying on the floor of her apartment, so it’s not like we have to spare anyone’s feelings.”
Lily laughs, “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” I mock her. Not the most mature thing I could do, but the alcohol is making everything feel alright.
“Enough!” Mom yells. “Why are you so angry, Miles?”
I take another shot, and this time it’s tasteless. Under normal circumstances, they’d have ganged up on me, suppressing my arguments until I gave up. But the alcohol has made things even, acting as a truth serum this family has been lacking.
“Angry? I’ve never felt this good in my life … Helen.” The look of shock on her face lets me know I was getting somewhere. No matter how angry I would get, there was always acknowledgement that she was my mother, but tonight is different. Jabs have been replaced with full fledged haymakers, each more venomous than the previous one, thrown with bad intentions and little regard for anybody—myself included. “Is this the kind of liquor you guzzled through my childhood?”
“Miles, you need to calm down,” she says, sensing something is off.
“I’m calm. I’m calm,” I say, clearly not calm. “Just let me know if it is. If so, it helps explain why you were such a shitty mother.”
The look of horror on her face makes my heart jump. She quickly regains her composure, but she’s already giver herself away, so she opts for damage control. “You’re just a little mad, I know you don’t mean that.”
“How would you know what I’m feeling? You haven’t been sober since I was in Kindergarten.”
“Maybe I haven’t—”
“Don’t do that,” I stop her.
“Do what, Miles?”
“Rationalize your faults like that.” I tell her. “I’m not sure you know this … actually, I’m sure you don’t, because you’re a narcissist … but copping to your faults later doesn’t make you a less shittier person. Believe me, I would know.”
Lily tries to jump back in the melee, but I shoot her a gaze and she stays quiet—at least for the moment.
“That’s no way to talk to your mother,” Helen says. “I understand what you’re going through.”
If there’s one phrase or saying I could go the rest of my life without hearing, it’s that one. I’d heard it countless times the past six months. Everyone, from neighbors to acquaintances I’d run into, felt like because they knew someone that died, it qualified as them as an expert on my grief.
“Stop saying things like that,” I yell. “You can’t just show up unannounced, have a few drinks and think that it makes up for everything.” I can see she’s speechless, but I press on, “I spent my adulthood running away from you, and I did well—at least I was. And now, it turns out I actually need you, both of you,” I say gesturing to Lily, “and the thought of that literally makes me sick to my stomach.”
Lily steps in between us, having decided Helen had taken enough punishment, and was now on the verge of tears. “If you didn’t want me in your life Miles, all you had to do was say the word.” She downs the rest of her drink, grabs her overnight bag and heads out the door.
“And then there were two,” I turn to Lily.
“That was cold of you,” Lily says, once the door is closed. “You didn’t have to be that harsh, Miles. She’s not the same woman we knew back in high school.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t go running after her. But then again I’m not, since that would blow your cover, Benedict Arnold.” The vein bulges in her neck as she stands there, seething with anger but showing amazing self control. “Oh, don’t act like it’s some big secret, you’ve always been in cahoots with her. Anything to make sure your expenses are covered, right?” I stumble to the mini bar and scrounge for more alcohol, any alcohol.