by M. Clarke
Mom brought her hands together, and then fidgeted with her buttons on her red silk PJ top. Looking down at her feet, she exhaled a long, deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Jo—” She couldn’t finish. The palms of her hands covered her face, muffling the sound.
My jaws dropped and I was in utter shock. What was she sorry for? She had never cried in front of me before, never showed any kind of weakness, let alone apologize. It felt so strange to see her like this. I didn’t know what to do. Mom stopped shortly after, wiped her tears, and resumed speaking, “When you left, I put the fault on you—that you were the bad daughter. I thought you would eventually see that you were wrong and you would come home. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and before I knew it, months turned into a year. I’m not sure when I realized how wrong I’ve been, but all I knew was that I had to make you come back. I thought of putting a guilt trip on you, but that didn’t work.”
“How did you find me? How did you get my number?” I snapped.
Mom sat up taller, intimidating me. I became afraid all of a sudden. Even knowing I was an adult who could defend myself against her strikes, I was still that little girl when it came to my mom in her domain.
“That was easy. I hired a detective named Chris.”
The detective’s name sounded familiar. Then it all came back to me. Seth had mentioned a mutual elementary school friend who had become a detective. I wondered if it was him. Nevertheless, I was surprised that she would go to such lengths to find me.
“Why?” I sounded angry. “Why didn’t you just leave me alone? Because you’re sick? You want me to take care of YOU! IS THAT WHY?” My tone got louder with each question.
Mom’s eyes burned like the devil’s. “Yes!” she hissed. “I mean—no. I wasn’t the best mom, and I know I’ve done things to hurt you.” She blurted the words out so fast, it was as if she didn’t say them swiftly, she might not have said them at all. She didn’t want to admit it, but she did. And I couldn’t believe that she had.
Her expression became softer as she continued, “I—” her hands started to tremble, and she seemed unable to make eye contact, “—I know I need help. Your dad left me, you left me, and I have no friends.”
“You left Dad. He didn’t leave you,” I injected.
She didn’t rebut, but nodded instead. “I don’t know what to do. My boyfriend stopped giving me money. I’ve lost the house. I have no electricity. I’m going to be homeless in two weeks. I have no one to turn to. I never really had friends. I had to sell my jewels and all my valuable possessions. It was then that I realized I had nothing. And those things didn’t mean so much anymore. Those were just material things I could buy again some day, but I knew I couldn’t buy you back. I knew I had lost you too.”
I wanted to tell her that she deserved this for all the things she’d done wrong, but I shut my mouth. “So, you turned to the one you beat up?” I said coldly. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Moms and dads are supposed to make their children feel safe and loved, and make them feel like their whole world is centered on them. I didn’t feel safe, or loved. I was scared. I hated my childhood. I hated my parents. But we don’t get to choose our parents, do we? Because I certainly wouldn’t have chosen you or dad.” My body was shaking so badly that I had to fold my arms around myself for support. I needed to find a way to calm down.
Mom looked down in shame, and then met my gaze. “But it was because I was sick. Sick in the head. There’s a monster inside me that comes out when I’m angry. Sometimes I can’t control it. Then I want to hide in a cave and never come out.”
What could I say to that? There were no words. Finally, after all these years, she admitted she had a problem. I’d prepared myself for her to tell me she had cancer or she was dying, or something extreme. Never in a million years would I have fathomed this.
I wanted to shout at her for all the rage she’d made me feel. For all the embarrassment, hurt, and humiliation, making me feel like I was worthless and that I was nothing. I was an object she could beat around whenever she was in her mood, not a daughter that needed her hugs and love. When I looked away from her, she spoke again.
“You might not believe me.” Her lips quivered as tears wet her cheeks. “I do love you. I might not have been the best mom, but I was better to you than your grandmother was to me. No matter how much you hate me, I’m still your mother.”
Grandmother had passed away when I was young, so I couldn’t remember what she was like. As for my grandfather, I was told Grandmother had left him, just as Mom had left Dad. It was at that moment I saw a pattern, and it scared the life out of me. Was it hereditary? Would I be like my mom? I would have to deal with that later, but at least I would be prepared. I would get help. There was no fuckin’ way I would be like her.
I had two choices. I could walk away and be out of her life for good, or suck it up and be the good daughter. Either way, I might regret my decision. But Mom was right. She was still my mother. You don’t get to choose your parents, nor do the parents get to choose their kids. Unfortunately, this was a deck of cards I was given the day I was born, and I had to deal with it. I knew that if I didn’t help her, guilt would follow me everywhere. There would be no escape. And if I didn’t help her, what kind of person would that make me? I would be the same as her, but in a different way.
“You’re right,” I finally answered. “I’ll help you.”
Mom flashed her eyes at me, looking hopeful. Her lingering tears twinkled against the candlelight. “You will?” She sounded so surprised. Not only that, her tone sounded thankful.
I finally took a step back and used the wall to anchor myself. Standing there stiffly, like I had done many times before in her presence—before the beating came—my muscles automatically knew what to do. Wondering if I’d made the right choice, I took a deep breath and gave her the conditions.
“But only if you’ll agree to my terms: First, we need to take you to a doctor and find out exactly what is the root of your problem. If they want you to take medicine, you have to do it. Second, I can’t afford to take care of you. I can barely take care of myself. I know you have a stash of money hidden between your mattresses. I don’t know if it’s still there, but you’ll have to use your money and not mine. Third, I’ll find a place for you to stay before you get kicked out, but in the meantime, you’ll have to stay here. Fourth, I’m going to get you some help from social security. You’re going to have to lose that pride and use food stamps if need be. And last, you’ll have to do as I say. Those are my terms. If you can’t follow them, then I’ll walk out the door. You’ll never see me again. Detective or no detective, it won’t bring me back to you.”
I had to be harsh. I needed her to know that I was serious. It hurt me to talk to her this way and I didn’t know why. I felt like she was the child and I was the mother. One of my waitress friends, who was a lot older than me, had told me that eventually the role changes. The children become the parents when the parents become too old to take care of themselves. But my mom was still young. She was just mentally ill.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
I didn’t realize how tight my muscles were until I eased my shoulders. “All right, let’s get you something to eat. Tomorrow, I’ll make an appointment for you with your doctor. Then, we’ll go from there.”
Mom nodded with her lips slightly twisted. “Thank you,” she said. It was barely a whisper, but I’d heard it.
CHAPTER 26
Seth
If Josie couldn’t come to me then I was going to go to her. Since Alex was working the late shift, it wasn’t hard to convince Elijah to come to dinner with me, especially when I told him it would be my treat.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Elijah asked, walking in beside me.
I shrugged my shoulders, standing there waiting for the hostess. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to serve you. I mean, it’s weird serving
your friend at a restaurant.” His tone came off serious, but I knew he was teasing.
“But I serve you at Mama Rose.”
“Everyone serves me.”
“Haha…Mr. Cool Elijah,” I commented.
Just then a girl wearing a pink top that said “Karina’s,” jeans, and a white apron approached us. “Good evening. Welcome to Karina’s. Would that be a table for two?”
“Yes,” I said.
I doubt if she heard me. She was staring at Elijah and drooling. Had her smile been any bigger, I would have probably seen her wisdom teeth.
“My name is Jordan. Right this way,” she said, taking us to a booth.
“Thanks,” I said, getting comfortable in my seat.
She placed menus on the table for us. “What would you like to drink? I’ll get those first before I take your order.”
“Just water for me,” Elijah answered.
“Me too,” I said.
“Great. I’ll be right back.” Then she sauntered to the kitchen.
I opened the menu. “Do you see Josie?”
Elijah met my gaze. “We just got here, but so far, I don’t. Maybe she’s in the kitchen.” He looked down at the opened menu. “I think I’ll have their special sandwich.”
I continued to glance around, dismissing what Elijah had said. On the other side was a blonde waitress. She was serving a table, and then went to another table with a younger crowd. So far I’d only seen two waitresses. Where was Josie? Having not seen her, when our waitress came back to our table with water, I decided to ask her.
“Does a waitress named Josie or Josefina work here?” I asked, smiling.
“Oh, Josie. Josie Anders?” She set the glasses in front of us.
“Yes.”
“Yes, she does.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, but I didn’t know why I felt that way. It wasn’t like she was lying to me. “Is she working today?”
“No. She took the day off. I would know since I switched with her.”
Heat flushed my face, but not in a pleasant way. Josie had told me she was working today, and it was the reason she said she couldn’t go out with me. Surely, she would have a good explanation for this misunderstanding.
Jordan leaned closer to me. “Did you need to tell her something?”
“No, but we’re ready to order now,” I said like it was no big deal, but deep down, I felt like shit. There was a good reason for this, I told myself. Not a big deal.
After we ordered, the waitress left with the menus. Elijah hadn’t said a word until I looked up at him again.
Elijah leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms. “Maybe you got your dates mixed up. Alex and I have done that before.”
“Maybe.” I took a sip of my water, hoping to alleviate the sting in my heart.
“How well do you know her? I’m a pretty good judge of character, and Josie seems like a good person. Why don’t you text her? I’m sure she can clear it up.”
I soaked in Elijah’s words and took out my phone from my back pocket. “I’ll feel like I’m checking up on her.”
“I know you, Seth. You’re acting like it’s not bothering you, but I can see it on your face. You’ll feel better. Do it,” he stressed. “Or you’re going to be a grouch during dinner.”
“Okay.”
Hey Josie, how’s work?
She didn’t respond until half an hour later. By that time, we were finished with our dinner. When the bill came, Elijah reached for it.
“I’ve got this, remember? I don’t need a pity dinner.” I rolled my eyes, not at Elijah, but at myself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know.” Elijah understood how I felt. His ex used to do that to him often.
When the text binged, I looked.
Sorry. Got caught up. What’s up?
I texted back: How’s work?
Busy. Gotta go.
“You ready for tomorrow, right?” Elijah’s question broke my daze. I didn’t tell him about the returned text. Josie was lying to me. I was going to find out why.
“Yes, Josie is supposed to help me. You cool with that?”
“Of course.”
“You ready to get out of here?” I asked, getting my wallet out and putting my phone back in my pocket.
“Yup.”
“How well do you know her” rang inside my head. How well? Apparently, not well. Instead of drilling her with a bunch of questions, I decided to wait and see if she would bring it up first. We were meeting tomorrow after work anyway.
“Do you mind if we stop by my dad’s shop before I take you home?” I asked Elijah, who was sitting in the passenger seat, changing the radio station. It was difficult to say “dad.” I hadn’t thought of him all day. Being busy had helped me temporarily forget that Dad wasn’t around.
“Sure. You know how much I love being there,” Elijah replied.
I signaled and turned left. “Yeah, I do.” I grinned. “Do you remember the black Mustang?”
“Yeahhhh,” Elijah dragged out the word with a hint of excitement. He’d always loved that car.
“Want to take it out for a spin?”
It took a few seconds for Elijah to answer, but it was worth the wait. “Are you serious? I’ve also wanted to drive that baby.” His excitement made me smile.
I looked at the rearview and then to the right, checking before I turned. We were almost there. All the employees would be gone for the day, so it was going to be easy to hang out there, no questions asked.
“What the hell?” Elijah growled when we got out of the car.
I didn’t understand why he would say that until I had a better view. The lock was broken, like someone had smashed it, and the door was halfway open.
“Wait.” I stopped him from going farther. “They could still be in there. We need to call the police.” I dialed, gave the address, and hung up.
“I don’t think anyone is in there. I’m going in.” Elijah was determined, ignoring my warning. This place meant as much to him as it did to me.
Running, he ducked under the broken door and went in, and I followed. What I saw next was unfathomable. Who would go out of their way to break in? Never in all my dad’s years of owning this shop had someone broken in. Everyone knew my dad. They adored him. Who would do such a horrible thing?
I felt like someone had ripped my heart out and spat on the memories of my dad. Most of our business was with returning customers and we’d known them for ages. They knew how much my dad loved his Mustang. He would even show it off to every customer. There was no way it could’ve been someone in the local town. Everyone knew each other.
My dad’s black Mustang had been beaten up to the point that it was unrecognizable. All the windows were shattered, and the dents in the car looked like they came from a baseball bat. The hood was so badly mangled that it had damaged the engine too. All the headlights were broken, and the inside of the car looked like a pin cushion for thousands of knives.
I was utterly stunned with a plethora of emotions running through me. Gripping my hair with my fists, I paced the length of my dad’s pride and joy. I felt violated and angry beyond anything imaginable. Fury blazed inside me, and I wanted to punch something—anything. Hell, I even wanted to cry. “WHAT THE FUCK!” I managed to growl at the top of my lungs. No matter how loud I yelled, it didn’t make it any less painful.
Elijah examined the car and gazed at me. “We’re going to get the assholes that did this. You don’t have a video camera so it’s going to be very difficult, but I’m sure someone witnessed this crime. This shop isn’t located on a busy street, but there are cars that pass through. It might not be tomorrow or next week, but we’ll catch them. This isn’t a one-person job. It would take one person way too much energy to do this kind of damage.” I stopped pacing when Elijah draped his arm around my shoulders to steady me. “I’m so sorry. When this town finds out, people will start talking.”
My body trembled from all the rage and I wan
ted to explode, like a ticking bomb ready to detonate. “I can’t tell my mom. She’s finally coming around. This—” I didn’t know what to say anymore.
Elijah took several steps back and studied the inside of the car. “She’ll find out if the word starts to spread. Maybe you can ask the police to keep this report quiet. I suggest they take fingerprints, but I doubt if they’ll find any, especially if they used only bats and knives. Maybe they were dumb enough to open the door without any gloves on.”
Feeling overly exhausted, I plopped myself onto the chair before my legs could give out on me. My heart still hadn’t found its steady beat. Looking at the car, I felt like this was a dream. But actually, it was a fuckin’ nightmare. Yes, it was a material thing, but it was my dad’s. It was a part of him. Through the car, I felt close to him, like I could feel his presence somehow. Now it was gone, destroyed.
Elijah went to the office to check if anything else was missing, and then came back. “They came after closing, and the manager had put everything away like he was supposed to. Whoever did this focused on the car. We’re going to need new parts, but we can fix this, Seth. You’re a good mechanic and I can help you. We’ll put this baby back together again.” Elijah sounded confident and determined, but I could tell from his eyes that he was hurting too. He was being the strong one for me. I was glad he was, because I felt so drained and didn’t feel an ounce of hope.
I inhaled a deep breath, trying to soothe the nightmare. I nodded, silently thanking Elijah. Then the river of tears fell, not because of the damaged car, but because it suddenly hit me again that Dad was never coming home. I lost the car. I lost my dad. The car was irreplaceable, and so was my dad. Curling up into a ball, I took a moment to grasp what had happened. Elijah didn’t say a word, but his soft pat on my back let me know he was there for me. He then walked away to give me space so I could drown myself in my moment. There was so much to do: call to repair the door and the lock, get a security camera or an alarm, and notify the employees.
