by RH Tucker
Once I’m done analyzing everyone in the theatre, my mind roams. Wondering what movie she’s watching, and why she looked so happy when I saw her walk in. The wandering thoughts then turn to anger as I stew in my seat, wondering what the hell she had to giggle about with Emma, while I’m torn up. How could she be so flippant, when I can barely get my mind on right?
The anger’s still bubbling as we leave the theatre and head next door to get something to eat. Right when we walk in, I see Emma and Jen walk in the opposite direction, toward a café. Without saying a word, I leave the group and head toward them.
“Lucas?” I hear Matt behind me, as everyone else is waiting for a server to seat us.
“Yo, Luc!” Carter calls out. Then he must see what I see. “No. Lucas, don’t! Jackson, go get him.”
I make my way toward the café doors just before they go inside. “Jen.”
“Oh, hey,” she says quietly, as she looks to the ground.
“Having a good night?” I ask, but it comes out condescending.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, just wanted to check, because you looked like you were all smiles earlier.”
“Lucas, leave it alone,” Emma says.
“This has nothing to do with you.” I point at her, then look back at Jen. “What the hell, Jen? I’m dying over here, and you just act like nothing happened?”
“Lucas, don’t …”
“Don’t?” I let out an incredulous scoff. “Don’t. Right, sure. That may be easy enough for you, but I handed you my heart on a silver fucking platter, and you basically said ‘no thanks’. So, excuse me if I’m a little on edge.”
Silence not only drifts between us, but all around. I hear a gasp and realize all of our friends are standing around us. I should feel embarrassed airing everything out like this, but I’m not. I’m just angry.
“But you know, I guess it’s no big deal.”
“Luc, stop.” Her words are barely more than a whisper.
“Stop? Oh, that’s great, yeah. Stop. Sure, I’ll stop.” I put a finger to my chin. “Oh yeah, that’s right, I can’t stop. Because every memory I have seems to revolve around you. And even when it doesn’t, somehow it makes me think of you. I’d have to move halfway around the world, to get rid of everyone in my life that is somehow connected to you, and even then, it won’t be enough, because my dreams will still be there, day and night. But oh no, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it because you can’t, right? You can’t get past something I did four years ago, right? You can’t even try to think how good something could be, because you’re too damn scared of something that might happen.”
“Please …” she whispers again but I can’t stop. I know I should, even as I see the tears roll down her face, but the words are just flying out. It’s like a flood of emotions, a dam breaking that won’t slow down.
“Please? What’s please, supposed to mean to you, Jen? Or are you the only one who gets to ask please and have someone else listen? Because you’re too scared to look at something that could be great, but only think of the bad. All because of something someone did in the past, and you can’t get over it. Well, thank you, Jen. Thank you. Because now I know the feeling. Now I know what it’s like to never be able to get over something.”
She just stands there. Still silent, still crying. And now, with it all off my chest, I should feel relieved. But instead, I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. And then she speaks, making me feel worse.
She sniffs, keeping her eyes pointed to the ground. “You’re right. I’m not brave enough, Lucas. Sorry if that’s not good enough for you. I thought you, of all people, would understand. Not because you know how it feels to have a parent who’s supposed to love you leave, but because you’re you, Lucas. And no matter what, you were always there for me. I didn’t need to explain it to you in the past, I just cried, and you were there. You accepted me, however I was feeling, for anything that was going on.” She finally looks up, her eyes red, cheeks stained with tears. “I’m sorry I can’t be what either of us want.”
She turns and runs in the opposite direction as Emma steps to me, staring me down.
“Just so you know, when we were laughing earlier, we were fake laughing.”
“Fake laughing?”
“She’s been trying to get over everything, too. It’s been horrible. When I walked through the doors I told her movies always cheers us up. She said, ‘oh yeah, a movie makes it all better’ and gave me a stupid giggle, before frowning and holding back tears throughout the entire movie. She hates that she’s so scared. So, you’re not the only one hurting, okay, asshole?”
Before I can even think of a reply, Emma turns around and runs after Jen. I nervously look around and see the rest of my friends staring at me. The expressions on their faces is the same one I’m feeling on the inside. What the hell is wrong with me?
Chapter 30
Jen
Emma doesn’t say a word on the drive home. We came to the movies in my car, but she drives us home. I rub my hands together, trying to get them to stop shaking, while tears still run down my face. We planned on her staying over for the night, so I’m thankful that I don’t have to drop her off and drive home alone. It’s only a five-minute drive, but even ten seconds alone might make me crazy.
I want to be mad at Lucas for everything. Or, if for nothing else, for making a scene like he did. And I want to be mad at myself, for being so afraid. For thinking the horrible what-ifs that might never come to pass, if it wasn’t for that one day, hearing those words from my mom. But I’m not mad. I’m just broken.
We don’t talk much before we go to sleep. Before she leaves in the morning, she asks me if I’m okay and I tell her yes, but I don’t know if and when I’ll ever be okay. She gives me another hug and tells me to call or text if I need anything.
I get up to use the bathroom and when I come back to my room, Nancy is sitting on the edge of my bed. I give her an embarrassed smile, crawl past her, and wrap my comforter around me. For a moment I think she’s going to lay down with me and snuggle close. She hasn’t done it for ages, but it’s something she used to do when I was younger and got scared of something. Instead, she just sits there quietly, rubbing my leg.
“So, the movie was that bad, huh?” she says, softly.
“I don’t remember the movie.”
“How come?”
“Because I was too busy thinking about Lucas and how he used to have a crush on the main actress. Then, I was too busy getting yelled at by him afterward.”
“What?”
I look away, shaking my head, hoping I can forget it as soon as possible. She sits there, quietly, and I have to reach up and dry my eyes again. “This sucks.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “Jen, is fear really the only thing holding you back?” I stare up at her, unsure why she’s asking me this. “Like, it’s not something or someone else?”
“There is nothing else, Nancy. No one else. She left. She was supposed to be here, and she just left. How can I ever trust anyone else to be better, when she’s the one who should’ve been the best?”
“I’m still here.”
“You had no choice,” I counter, and instantly regret it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know. You’re right, in a way, but also not. I could’ve done everything different. I’d like to think I was a good motherly figure.”
I sit up, my blankets still around me, and give her a hug. “Nancy, you weren’t a good motherly figure. You are a great mom.”
“Thanks, baby,” she says, and a frown crosses her lips. “But I don’t think I did everything right. As a matter of fact, I know I didn’t, and I need to apologize.”
“For what?”
She looks at the ground, pursing her lips together, as if she’s deep in thought. “Get dressed.”
“How come? Where are were going?”
She stands up and walks to the door. “If you’re going to ma
ke a decision on your heart, you need to have all the facts. And I just hope you forgive me.”
Her ominous words rattle around in my head as I get dressed and we drive out of town. She doesn’t say anything on the drive to wherever we’re going. She switches the radio station a couple times but that’s it. I’ve asked where we’re going, what we’re doing, and what I have to forgive her for, but she just stares straight ahead.
“Nancy, you’re scaring me now.” We’ve been driving for nearly an hour.
“I know and I’m sorry, but I can’t explain it to you. Not yet. You just … you’ll see.”
“See what?”
No answer again, just a silent shake of her head.
After another fifteen minutes, we pull into a large, grassy area covered with trees. Off in the distance there’s a small parking lot and I see a sign.
“Rosewood Memorial?” I look at her. “Nancy, why are we at a cemetery?”
Again, she doesn’t answer. Pulling into a parking spot, she gets out of the car and I sit there, watching her through the front window. She stops at the front of the car and gives me a slight wave, calling me to follow her.
“Okay, this may be morbid and possibly disrespectful, but I guess if you were going to kill me, a cemetery makes sense.”
She gives a light laugh. “I never told you, but you’ve always had her humor.”
“Whose?”
“Your mother.”
With her words I take another look at my surroundings and I instantly know why we’re here. I just don’t know why now?
“This way,” she quietly calls to me and I realize I’ve stopped walking.
There are headstones set up all around. Some of them are extravagant, some glimmer the reflection of the sun off their marble sides. Others are ornate, cement in material, but designs etched in to them. There are large bouquets set up on some plots or single flowers set up on others. And then we reach it.
There’s no marble headstone―no headstone at all. Just a small grassy area and a bronze plate at the front. It reads: Kelly Romilly - Daughter, Sister, Mother.
“So,” Nancy says as her eyes stay glued to the bronze plate. “I never thought I’d bring you here, but here we are.”
“There’s no date of birth or date of death.” I don’t know why it’s my first thought, but it is.
She lets out a small chuckle. “No. We had this idea, which is a little weird thinking back on it. I mean, what kind of kid thinks about death when they’re still so young. Of course, I was always the older one and she overheard me, so I can only assume she was just saying it to be like me. I was talking to a friend one time and said when I die I didn’t want any dates on my tombstone. I still don’t. It’s mysterious, like I could’ve been alive at any point in history. A wandering gypsy … I’ve always loved gypsies.” She cracks a smile, and I see a small tear run down her cheek.
“Anyways, your mother overheard and said she wanted the same thing. I was just about to graduate high school, she’d barely turned eleven. But there she was, talking about what was going to be written for her when she died.” She sighs. “We never think about dying when we’re young, even if we talk about it.”
I continue to stare at the name on the plate. Kelly Romilly. Not Harris, the only thing I ever received from my father. Another disconnect whenever I’d think of her from time to time, our different last names.
For the first time in I don’t know how long, I try to remember what she looked like. It’s hard to make out her features now, I’ve forgotten so many of them. Any pictures Nancy has I’ve made it a point to never look at. I just remember her words. Her words that echo in my head.
“Why did you bring me here?” I stare down at the plate, refusing to feel anything for this woman. “I have nothing to say to her.”
“Because I made a mistake.”
“No, she did.”
She takes a step closer to me. “Yes, she did. And she regretted it, I know she did.”
“How could you know that? You can’t. Nancy, she left me. She didn’t want me. So now, what? You bring me here and I’m supposed to feel something for a dead mother that never loved me?”
Even as I say the words I feel no sadness, only anger.
“And that is my mistake. Because I do know how sorry she felt. How much she regretted leaving you with me. She stayed away for years, Jen. And then, the summer before you started high school, she got in touch with me.”
“What?” My head snaps up, my eyes meeting hers.
“You were out with friends, thankfully.”
“Thankfully?”
She’s crying but never breaks our stare. “Yes, because she was in a bad way, Jen. She showed up at the house, telling me how she messed her life up. How she made every mistake imaginable, but the biggest mistake was giving up on you. She wanted to see you. She begged me to let her see you, because she said you were starting high school. In a year, you’d be the same age as her when she had you. I told her she could, but not that day.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, she was in a bad way. She was thin, too thin. Bone thin. Her eyes were sunken in, dark rings around them. Missing teeth. Her hair, the same blonde hair you have, was matted or falling out. She had scars along her arms and wrists. Puncture marks. She―” A sob takes control and she brings her hand to her mouth. “She looked horrible, like death. And I told her that. I’ll forever regret those words, because I told her she needed to clean herself up. To get better before I let her see you. You deserve a mother who wanted to look her best for you. Who wanted to be her best for you. I told her that, and I said that you don’t deserve a mother that looks like she just wants to die.”
Somewhere along her words, all my anger has vanished, and I find my hand wiping away tears.
“She steadied herself, there in our living room, and nodded. She said I was right. She thanked me for taking care of you all these years and she promised she was going to get better. I asked her for any type of contact information, but she didn’t have any. She said she was staying with a friend of a friend, but she said she’ll get better. She wanted to see you and that you deserved to have a good mom. She told me I’d been a good mom to you and I told her she could’ve been a good mom, too. And that she could still be one.”
I drop to my knees, my fingers running over her name on the plate. Nancy sits down next to me.
“The next week, I received a called from the police department. She overdosed.”
I don’t know what to think or what to feel. So, I just sit there, crying, my fingers still rubbing back and forth over her name on the plate.
“She loved you, Jen, I know she did. Yes, she made a horrible mistake, but that didn’t change the way she felt. And I believe she wanted to change. I believe … no, I know she wanted to be a good mom to you. But by the time she realized that, life caught up.” She wraps an arm around me. “The only way the police knew to contact me was because she was wearing a pendant. It was old and rusted, probably why it wasn’t stolen and overlooked. Inside it had my name and number. There was also a small picture of you, about six months old. On the back of the picture, well …” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the pendant she just described.
Handing it to me, I stare at her, almost asking permission to take it. She gives me a gentle smile with a nod and I look back down at it. I open the pendant and see Nancy’s name and number there, just as she described. Then my baby picture. Pulling the picture out, I flip it over, seeing something my mom must’ve written.
My baby. I’ll always love you. I’m sorry.
“Why―” My words choke off with emotion. I take a deep breath and try again. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
“I’m sorry, Jen. I’m so, so sorry. I debated with myself that entire week when she showed up. Should I tell you? Shouldn’t I? What if she never got better? I just wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to feel any pain at the thought of her being back in your life and then her leaving
again. And then, when she died, I argued with myself again. Would it be better to tell you? To let you know she was gone and not out there living somewhere? Or would telling you she died make things worse? All the while, I wasn’t even sure if I made the right decision with her. If I’d let her see you, would she have had more resolve to get better? More strength? I didn’t know what the right thing to do was, but I thought I could be enough. I believed I could protect you from anymore hurt you had felt from her. I’m so sorry, baby.”
Time seems to stand still while we sit at the gravesite, both of us staying silent. I stare down at the name plate again and I want to hate her still. I want to feel the same hate I had when I got here, but I don’t. Now I just feel sorry for her. I wish she could’ve been stronger. I wish things had been different. I look back over at Nancy, her eyes still on me.
“You should’ve told me.”
“I’m sorry.” Her tears start to fall again. “Please don’t hate me, Jen.”
I lean into her and we wrap our arms around one another. “I could never hate you, Nancy. Never. I just wish I would’ve known.”
“I understand, but now you do. Now you know that she made a mistake. Yes, it was a huge mistake, but that’s what it was. It wasn’t that she didn’t love you, Jen. She always loved you. She was just scared. And sometimes, fear can change things for the worse. Don’t let fear run your life, baby. Because no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, clutching the pendant to my chest.
Chapter 31
Lucas
Another week of school down, another week of feeling like crap. Only now I only have myself to blame. Because I don’t feel bad about the rejection or Jen being too afraid of being with me. Now I feel horrible for how I treated her and what I said to her. Since that night, I made it a point to avoid any and all things that might even happen to have me come into contact with her.
