by Eliza Ellis
“I’m not surprised to find you here. I had hoped you would make peace before you left.” Her sad smile made Keke itch.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s the six-month anniversary.”
“Are you going to bring flowers every six months?” Keke asked with disdain.
Mary shook her head. “No. This is the one and only time.”
Keke glanced at her mom. “Why’s that?”
Mary sighed. She looked to the sky, its reddish-orange hue signaling twilight in full effect. “I promised I’d give myself six months to grieve. To work out exactly what it meant to be free of him. To discover who I am without my husband, a man who so wholly dominated our lives.”
Her hand touched Keke’s arm. Keke didn’t flinch nor retreat.
“I promised myself if I could release all the bitterness and anger I’d felt over the years…the sadness…the guilt. Oh! The condemnation I built up over not protecting you girls… I said if I could do all of that and forgive the man, then I’d come lay some flowers on his grave and say goodbye for the last time.”
“Anger?” That surprised Keke. She hadn’t known her mother to be an angry person. A doormat that got railroaded, yes. Had she been angry this whole time?
“Oh, yes.” She cackled. “I can laugh about it now because I’ve released it all.” Her hands waved in front of her as though she was pushing the negative energy away. “You know, Keighly, I used to be so angry at myself for not having the spine to do and be more.” She cupped the side of Keke’s face. “To be like you. Such a fighter. In that way, you’re like your father.”
Keke grunted and gently pushed her mother’s hand away. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Like her father? She hated the man.
“I know, I know,” her mother continued, “you don’t want to believe it’s true, but it is. It’s one of the things that first attracted me to him when I met him in high school. He wanted to change things. Kind of like a revolutionary.” Mary chuckled. “Only I’m glad he didn’t turn out to be some sort of radical. But whenever there were protests over something, he was always the first one to show up holding a sign.”
Her father? The sanitation plant worker? That information left Keke speechless.
“He never did really find his way, and maybe I’m partly to blame for that. As his wife, I felt it was my duty to help him reach for his dreams. But he would get so angry over his circumstances…then we started having children, and he couldn’t focus on his own goals and provide for us. At least, that’s what he believed.”
Keke stared at the headstone. The man her mother described wasn’t the one she and her sisters had come to know. She resisted the cessation of her anger. What would she have to hold onto if it left? It had been her fuel for years.
“And I did feel anger toward him for dragging me and you and your sisters down. He had such potential—potential he saw in you and envied.”
Keke’s jaw dropped. She stared at her mother without blinking. “Dad envied me?”
She smiled widely. “Oh, he envied all of you. It made me so proud to know you and your sisters wouldn’t turn out like him. You always strived hard for your goals and refused to let obstacles deter you. In that way, you and your sisters are very different from your father.”
“He couldn’t get out of his own way,” Keke breathed.
“Exactly.”
“And the guilt?”
Mary’s countenance sagged. “The guilt is I allowed him to have such influence over you and your sisters. That I didn’t step up and be the mother you girls needed at a time that was critical to your growth and future. I know I can’t take any credit that the three of you persevered despite everything, because you’re sisters. You three have a powerful bond that nothing—not even your father—could break. But if you didn’t perservere…” Tears fell from her eyes. Keke wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “If I had to do it all again, I’d stand up sooner. I might’ve even left him. I wasn’t sure if we could make it—just the four of us. But now I know that wasn’t true at all.”
“I guess we didn’t really need you to stand up,” Keke said. She felt empowered that her inner strength enabled her to succeed despite her parents.
But it hadn’t been enough. It’d left a hole in her. An inability to get close to anyone and trust them. What if they tried to drag her down? Didn’t encourage her? Told her she couldn’t be who she wanted to be?
“No…no, you didn’t. But I still had a job to do, and I failed at it. For that, I am so sorry, Keighly.” Her eyes burned with contrition.
Keke’s own eyes stung. She nodded. “I forgive you, mom.” The tears flowed.
“Thank you for that. I know that was difficult for you.”
Not as hard as she wanted it to be, if Keke were being honest with herself. She hadn’t known the pressure her mother was under. The emotional weight she carried. All this time, Keke had been blaming her mother, but it wasn’t all her fault.
“I’m sorry for not coming home sooner,” Keke whispered. “For being a jerk to you.”
Her mother grinned, misty eyes shining. “I don’t have anything against you.” She hugged Keke. I appreciate you saying so.”
When they released one another, the tightness in Keke’s chest fell away and she smiled at her mother.
“Keke, I know it will be the hardest thing you ever do in your life, up until this point.” She paused and chuckled. “When you go into labor, then this will seem to be a breeze. But…I want you to forgive him. He wasn’t ready for the three of you because he hadn’t worked himself out. I know it’s not a good enough excuse, but I hope it helps you understand him a little more.”
Keke considered in silence. Forgive her father… The idea seemed preposterous. She didn’t want to condone his actions.
“When I forgave him, I felt such peace. He was wrong and so was I, but that pain isn’t worth the rest of my life. It isn’t worth yours either.” Her mother squeezed her at the waist. “Don’t carry it with you. Let it go.”
Keke remembered Kat said her mother was on medication. “Kat said you were taking antidepressants? What else are you on?”
Mary frowned slightly. “Yes, I had to be put on some medication. I didn’t want you or your sister Kori to know—so you wouldn’t worry.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. “When your father died, I confess I felt alone, abandoned even. It’s strange to say it now, but suddenly I had to figure out everything. You know how controlling he was.”
“Yes, I remember very well.”
“With change often comes some anxiety. I wasn’t prepared for that. But”—she smiled cheerfully—“I am doing much better. I still have to take the medicine for a little while longer, but maybe I can convince the doctor I don’t need it anymore, yes?”
Keke looked away. Her spine crawled. She didn’t want to think her mother was that ill, but she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t the first thought that came to her mind. That, and how their father would probably be gleeful to know he could still keep his wife down from beyond the grave.
Keke made a mental note to read about anxiety and depression. “If you’re feeling better,” she encouraged.
Mary sighed peacefully. “I am, daughter, I am. Kat said I have plenty of life left. I was thinking maybe I’d go to college.”
That shocked Keke. “College? And study what?”
Her mother shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always enjoyed history. Got all As in high school. Maybe I can take a few classes. Get a degree. Oh! There’s a reenactment society here. I’ve been going to their weekly meetings.” She chortled. “Can you imagine me dressed up in period costume? It’s been exciting.” She waved a fake fan. “Pretending to be a great lady. I’ve met some wonderful people. They’ve made me feel so welcome. It’s been wonderful coming out of such a hard shell.”
Keke laughed, her heart feeling lighter at the sight of her mother enjoying life. She’d never really experienced her mother finding joy in something othe
r than her children. “Yeah, Mom, I think that’s great.”
Her mother’s expression sobered. “I want to apologize to you, Keke, again—”
“Mom, no—”
“I should.” Her eyes implored Keke’s silence. “I meant it when I said I failed you and your sisters. Please…forgive me. I am and will try to be better.”
Keke believed her. Her father harbored much of the blame, but resentment for her mother had been festering for a long time. Keke hugged her mother. “I forgive you,” she whispered, again. Emotion lifted from her chest, and she squeezed her mother tighter.
For the first time, she had been able to put herself in someone else’s shoes. Her mother had a difficult road ahead of her, but her smile and bright eyes meant she was well on her way; at least, that’s what Keke chose to believe.
“I’ll leave you here. Think about what I said…about forgiveness.” She looked at the grave. “Goodbye, Gregory. I’m sorry we can’t go back and do it again. It would’ve been different, believe me. Your daughters and I are okay. No, we’re better than okay. I hope you find peace.”
She rubbed Keke’s back. “If I don’t see you before you leave, please let me know how your audition went.”
“Okay, I will,” Keke promised.
She watched her mother’s retreating back—straight and proud. Keke dragged her gaze back to her father’s grave. He was gone. Holding on to the bitterness and resentment would maybe one day force her onto antidepressants.
Her mother was right. Saying goodbye and moving forward was the only way to experience true freedom. Even from across the country, her father’s words had trapped Keke, haunted her, driven her to defy him and prove him wrong.
Now she no longer needed him. And he wasn’t here for her to gloat. She could prove to herself that she could achieve her dreams.
“Goodbye, Dad. I forgive you.”
Chapter 22
K eke saw Bertie behind her in the mirror.
“What time did you get back last night?” Bertie asked hesitantly. She occupied the sink beside Keke, placing her toiletries on the ledge between them.
They hadn’t spoken since their fight, keeping the conversation solely about camp business. Keke didn’t want to leave things the way they were, but wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t end in a fight. She twisted her hair up into her signature bun. “About ten.”
“I was already asleep.”
“The whole room was. I thought that was strange.”
“The kids are exhausted. Their schedule was packed. I’m going to suggest we cut a couple of activities to give the next group more breathing room.”
“That’s probably best.”
Keke glanced at her friend, who met her gaze. They both looked away.
“I saw your bunk was packed.” Bertie brushed her teeth.
Keke smoothed her edges with control gel. “I got a text last night. My audition was moved up to tomorrow. Someone dropped. I have to fly out today. I’ve already told your dad. He just grunted, so I think he’s good with it.”
Bertie nodded. She spit out the toothpaste and swished water in her mouth before speaking. “Keke, I want to apologize.”
“No, it’s my fault.”
They spoke at once. Keke continued. “We made a pact and—”
“That stupid pact.” Bertie flicked her hand. “We did that in middle school. It…it no longer matters. My brother likes you, and I know you like him. You’re my best friend, Keighly and he’s my brother. My two favorite people getting together. It’s not as bad as I once thought.” She gave a lopsided smile.
Keke’s heart lifted, but only briefly. She bit her lip. “I’ve already told him it can’t happen.”
Bertie’s brows rose. “Because of me?”
“Well, not just you. But, yeah. It’s okay. I think…it’ll be okay.” Keke packed her toiletries. “I appreciate you thinking I’m good enough for your brother, but I think this is all for the best. I’m going to slip out before breakfast.”
Bertie placed a hand on her arm. “Well, I am sorry. I hereby dissolve the pact. Only one rule and that’s we always tell each other the truth.”
“That’s it?”
“You were right. Mom and I should’ve told him. She’s in the hospital and will be moved to hospice soon.”
“Oh, Bertie!” Keke wrapped her friend in a fierce hug. “I’m so, so sorry.” A tremor tore through her heart for her friend. Keke was getting her mother back and Bertie was losing hers. Life wasn’t fair, and they had barely lived theirs.
Bertie cried softly. “It was so hard to see her there. She probably only has a couple of weeks left.”
Keke’s heart hurt for her friend. “I’ll come back for…”
Bertie pulled back. She wiped her cheeks. “Don’t, please. When you nail that audition, your schedule will probably be hectic. I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll be fine. We’ll take care of it.”
“How’s Peter?”
“He’s going to pursue his dreams.” Bertie smiled. “He was mad at first, about Mom, but he stood up to our dad at the hospital. He’s going to meet with the entertainment company. He’ll probably be worth millions by next week.”
Keke covered her mouth and then giggled. “Bertie, that’s amazing. Tell him I said so? I…I don’t want to say goodbye. He probably doesn’t want to see me anyway.”
“I will. We’ll be spending a lot of time with our mom.”
“And your father?”
Bertie sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair and then made a face when they got caught in a slight tangle at the end of her ponytail. “I think he’s in denial. I don’t know how he’s going to handle her being gone and with Pete not going to Cornell. He’s not talking to us, but he has to accept it now.”
“Yes, he does. Speaking of dads…”
“Did you go to the grave?”
It was comforting to Keke that Bertie could read her like a book. They truly were kindred spirits. Keke nodded. “Mom was there. Six-month anniversary. We patched things up.”
Bertie smiled. “I’m proud of you, Keke. It’s not good holding on to all of that anger.”
“I’m proud of me, too.” Keke lifted her chin and smiled.
Bertie rolled her eyes. “We know,” she said sarcastically.
“I mean it,” Keke countered. “It took a lot for me to let it go. I still feel a little funny about it.”
“Oh, of course you do.” Bertie rubbed Keke’s arms. “But now it’s all you. You’re the reason you’re going to succeed and not your father’s disapproval.”
Fear crept up Keke’s spine and threatened to take residence in her heart. She fought against it, silently telling herself she won an audition based on merit and not anything else. Her dreams were within reach; it was up to her now to grab them.
“What about you, Bertie?” Keke looked around the restroom, noticing the leaky faucets and flickering lights. “You ever going to leave this place? Go back to college?”
Bertie groaned. “You, Mom, and Peter are relentless.”
“You have talent, and we don’t want to see that go to waste.”
Bertie smiled. “Thank you. And I’m definitely, really close to doing it.”
They shared a laugh. Bertie’s expression sobered. “Not until after I’m sure Dad can handle this place on his own. I’ll start interviewing for more counselors next week.”
She wouldn’t pressure Bertie any more. She had enough to stresses pulling her in multiple directions; most importantly, she had to be there for her mom. But Keke was confident the old Bertie would be back and probably graduate earlier than expected.
Keke blew out a breath and squared her shoulders. She held out her hand. “I accept the dissolution and the instatement of the one rule.”
Bertie laughed and shook her hand. “So be it.”
Keke and Bertie clung to each other. “I’m going to miss you,” Keke whispered.
“Don’t stay away too long.”
* * *
“I can’t believe we made it,” Bertie said as she entered the office. Her arms hung loose at her sides, and she slumped into a chair behind her desk.
“Where’s Dad?” Pete asked. He hadn’t been around since yesterday. He’d left the hospital, and they weren’t sure whether or not he had gone back to see their mother or not.
“He’s probably inspecting the bunks. Making sure we wiped every cobweb out.”
The kids had left an hour ago. Bertie and Pete went through their cleanup checklists in record time. They wanted to visit their mother as soon as they could.
“Well, he won’t find a thing.”
“Did you tie up the boats?” Bertie flashed a teasing grin.
“Those boats will never leave the dock again.”
Bertie laughed. Her face more relaxed now than he’d seen in a while.
“Why don’t you go back to school,” Pete said again. “Let Dad handle things here. If he can find help as good as Lea and the others, he’ll be okay.”
“What’s going on with you and Lea?”
Pete looked at the ceiling. “Don’t change the subject. Nothing is going on. I already said goodbye to her and…it wasn’t pretty. She smiled, and I still feel bad.” That conversation had been short and sweet with him telling her that he still had a crush on a girl he once knew. Lea smiled, wished him well, and turned on her heel. The last image he had of her was of cold, blue eyes. He shouldn’t have kissed her and left her wanting more.
He didn’t deserve her either.
“You know who I like,” he said wistfully.
“Yeah, I know.” Bertie’s mouth dipped to one side. “I saw her earlier today. Said she was flying out this evening.”
Pete nodded. “Yeah, I kind of figured that when she didn’t show up.” He had wanted to see her one last time, to say goodbye. If his sister was right, Keke did like him but not enough to overcome whatever was keeping her away. Pete didn’t want to be a nuisance and keep trying.
“We talked. I apologized.”
“Good,” Pete acknowledged, still lost in thought over no longer being able to see Keke.
