What Brings Me to You

by Loralee Abercrombie

  Dammit! There were several unopened envelopes but she fanned out all six pages of my last letter like she was reading Tarot cards. She was definitely missing her calling. All she needed to complete the look was a cape and purple turban. Once the pages were arranged she stared back at me silently. Waiting for me to say something. To tell her something different than what I'd written in the letter but I couldn't and I wouldn't. I wasn't going to deny that I loved Charley. I wasn't going to say it was a mistake or beg her not to tell anyone. I wanted everyone to know and at that moment I especially wanted Mrs. Feinman to know. So I glared right back at her, unblinking, communicating to her that whatever she thought happened, happened.

  "This," and she placed one spindly finger on the table pointing to the letters, "is completely inappropriate and will stop immediately."

  "Why?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Why should I? In case you forgot Charley and I are both adults and she no longer lives with you. You cannot control what I say and don't say to her."

  "Young man, you don't know what you're playing with here."

  "All due respect, ma'am but I'm not playing at all. I love Charley. I want to be with her."

  "You're spoiled, kid. You're not going to win this one. My daughter is not going to be another notch in your belt."

  "If you read that letter then you know that's not how I feel at all."

  "Okay, then. If you love her so much, why are the letters coming to my house and not to her dorm?" I did not have an answer for that. Mrs. F knew it and was smiling because she knew it.

  "It's complicated."

  "No, Teddy, it's simple. You leave her alone. You forget, kid, that I've watched you grow up. I know how you treat women, especially one woman in particular. My daughter deserves better. You're just not right for her and she certainly isn't right for you." I was suddenly very angry. How dare she, the shittiest mother I'd ever encountered, come in here trying to make me feel like the bad guy by throwing my past in my face. Like I didn't deserve Charley. I mean, granted, I knew I didn't deserve Charley for the way I acted but this bitch married a guy who treated her and her daughter like shit so she could have the money. I love Charley and I had money so it should be a slam dunk in her eyes. She didn't know shit about our relationship to say that Charley wasn't right for me. Charley was the only girl I'd ever met who got me she became my new moral compass. It was Charley's voice I heard in my head when I was making a decision. Knowing how I felt about her, Mrs. F had the nerve to insult Charley in front of me by saying she didn't deserve me. Why? Because she was young? Because she's black? I didn't give a fuck what she or anyone else thought. To top it all off, how dare she tell me to leave Charley alone. Charley had been nothing but alone her entire life and it was all this skeletor's fault.

  "Leave her alone, huh? Like you did?" I asked, doing my best to maintain an even tone. The shock immediately registers on her face like I'd slapped her and now it was my turn to smile. "I will not just leave her alone. Everyone in her life has done that to her and she deserves better."

  "You don't know what you're talking about." she was seething and also visibly uncomfortable. Her rangy fingers tapping the table nervously.

  "I know enough. I know that you chose designer clothes and a well-connected husband over your daughter. I know you've relegated her to a life that she's too smart for. I know you've sat idly by and allowed her to be mistreated. I know you've denied her love to the point she can't recognize it." Iris raised a hand and before I knew it her sparkling water was in my face, the lime slamming me in my eye.

  "Jesus, ow!"

  "You listen to me boy," she pounded her bony fist on the table causing the silverware to jump. "You are not a parent. And God forbid should you ever become one you have to make difficult choices in connection with your own children. You have absolutely no right to judge anything I've done because, until you've been there yourself, you have no idea what you'd do in a situation like mine. You're not one to lecture me on morality and responsibility, Gunther Holmes. I see you, kid. You're the king of shirking responsibility. I did what I had to do to survive so my daughter, whom you claim to love so much, would have a roof over her head, clothes on her back and food in her belly. You don't think I know what she goes through? Teddy, I fucking live it. I know exactly what goes on in my house and I'm powerless to stop it. I didn't choose the easy way out despite what you think. I made sacrifices, Teddy. Lots of them to ensure the safety of my daughter."

  "Oh?" I asked still drying my face. "Like the way you protected her against Adam?"

  "Don't you talk about my son that way."

  "Jesus, lady you know what? You're in some serious, fuckin' denial! You don't have a goddamned clue what goes on in your house. Why don't you ask Adam what goes on? Better yet, have him show you the pictures."

  "Teddy, what are you insinuating?" her head and voice dropped to get my attention.

  "You need to ask Charley about that because it's not my place to say.”

  "You're damn right it isn't your place," and she stood to go, hitching her bag onto her shoulder. With her gangly finger pointing to the table she hissed, "I don't want to find another one of these in my mailbox. If I do, I cannot be held responsible for what my husband does."

  "Then tell me how to get in touch with her." Dammit Teddy! Shit! I showed my hand to early. She didn't know I had no idea how to contact Charley. She actually looked pleased.

  "Absolutely not. Consider your relationship over."

  "That is not your decision to make," my voice was beginning to sound like a whine. Once this woman, my last connection to Charley walked away, that was it. I'd lose her.

  "It is now. I don't care what you think about me, Teddy. I'm still her mother. It's over. Let her go," Mrs. Feinman already had her back to me and had taken two steps away when I muttered: "Never."

  She left the 6-page letter and about half a dozen unopened ones on the table. I didn't even bother to pick them when I left.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Charley

  "Mom?" I stood, stunned at the doorway. At that time that I left, my relationship with my mother wasn't so much non-existent because that would've made things easy. It was complicated. I loved her because she was my mother and she did try, in small subtle ways, to show me she loved me like slipping a twenty dollar bill under my door, faithfully, twice a month. Like speaking to me when Paul wasn't around, though it was usually to criticize my appearance, at least she was paying attention to me. But when she showed up at my door I'd been living freely on campus for almost a month. Things changed for me. I didn't have to tip toe around my roommate, she actually enjoyed my company. I didn't have to hide in my dorm, though I was still doing it, to eat my meals. I could sit at a table with people who appreciated me and eat like a human. The small ways that Kelsey or Colin or our neighbors in the dorm showed me they cared were so much grander than anything my mother ever did for me because it was personal. They knew me and weren't ashamed about that. I recognized that and seeing her standing in the hall of my dorm brought a flood of emotions that I had buried so deeply for years. There were so many I couldn't enumerate them all and some I didn't recognize but, by far, the most dominant was anger. Pure, unadulterated rage.

  "Hi Charley," she said bashfully, eyes set on mine.

  "W-what are you doing here?" I meant for it to sound harsh, and even with the slight stutter it worked. Mom dropped her eyes to the floor and whispered: "I wanted to see you. Can I...may I come in."

  "How did you know ...how did you find me?"

  "I called." Who did she call? I didn't have a phone?

  "Mom, there are at least forty residential buildings on campus..."

  "Forty-eight. There are forty-eight. I wanted to see you."

  "Why?"

  "Because you're my daughter! Because I love you!" When she finally looked up, the tears were streaming down her face and onto her collar. I didn't feel bad for her, I mostly felt embarrassed she was making a scen
e. I was angry at this display because, in all of my life, she never lashed out like that. Maybe we'd have been closer if she'd ever shown any emotion. Remorse, guilt, love, anything but the impassive criticism I'd always gotten. Anything but the fear.

  "God, mom, quit yelling okay? The walls are paper thin." I put my arm around her bony shoulders protectively and ushered her in the room. I let her stand in the small open space between our beds while I sat down at my desk.

  "So this is it, huh?" She literally turned her nose up at my room. My room. I worked damn hard to have this little space. One tiny enclave in the world that I earned and two steps in she invalidated all the work I did to have it. I didn't want her in my room. It was my place. My sanctuary.

  "Yep. Not too much different than at home, eh? You know, I didn't think it was possible but I actually have less space than when I lived with you. Go figure." I was going for the emotional jugular and I didn't care. I wanted her out. For good.

  "Charley..."

  "Listen mom, it's real heartwarming that you took time out of your busy schedule to take care of your obligation to come and see me, but it really wasn't necessary. It won't be necessary ever again, okay? I don't need you. I haven't needed you for a very long time. Now, it's been a pleasure, but I've got to get back to studying."

  "Do not speak to me that way, Charley. I am your mother."

  "My mother? Do you really want to pull out the mom card right now?"

  "I beg your pardon..."

  "You know what; I'm just going to lay it all out there because this is going to be the last time I ever speak with you. You are a shitty mother. The word selfish doesn't even come close to describing you. You made fucked up life decisions that not only affected you but they affected me. Didn't matter, though, as long as you got your big house and your fancy clothes. You never did anything for me if it meant putting yourself out, and, newsflash, that's what a parent is supposed to do. You never did anything to protect me from danger. You didn't care if I lived or died in that room. You didn't care if I starved all day or went to school without clean clothes. I'm your daughter. Your only daughter and you treated me like a stray dog that wandered into your life.

  "Paul..."

  "I'm not talking about Paul, though while we're on the subject he's a fucking prick but let's face it, mom, he had no responsibility toward me. You did. I'm talking about you and the way you treated me. The way you allowed me to be treated by Paul, by Caleb, by fucking Adam..."

  "What about Adam, Charley?"

  "It's a little late to ask, mother! Like it matters, anyway. Even if I told you, Adam would still be your son, your precious boy that you made during happy times with a man you love. Nothing I say is going to tarnish his perfection in your eyes. I'm just a stain. A blemish on the family name. So don't walk in my home and pretend like you aren't the least bit relieved that I'm gone."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that I've had a really shitty life and I blame you. I'm saying that, despite you, I've worked damn hard to turn shit into gold and I'm proud of what I've accomplished even if you aren't. I'm going to make something of myself, mom. I'm going to be happy even despite of a shitty start. But you aren't going to be a part of it. Because after eighteen years of ignoring me and leaving me to fend for myself, after I've finally, for the very first time, felt like maybe things could turn around for me, after I've put you, Paul, Adam, the whole screwed up thing behind me, you show up here not to tell me you're proud of me, but to criticize me. Not to tell me you love me and actually mean it, but to manipulate me into saying things I don't mean to ease your conscience. To absolve yourself of any responsibility that you've played in my misery. Well, I'm not letting you off the hook. You need to own what you did to me. You need to accept that because of what you did, this is what we've become. Nothing. Not mother and daughter. Not friends. Not acquaintances. We're nothing. You're nothing to me.”

  This wasn't like when I laid into Teddy. She wasn't visibly upset she was just...blank. Numb. I wanted there to be some kind of reaction. Anything. Yelling. Crying. Let her punch me, I didn't care I just wanted her to hurt. To feel, even the tiniest bit of hurt I'd experienced in my life, but there wasn't anything there. She was completely emotionless which didn't infuriate me because I didn't have anything left to fuel the anger. It broke me. I'd held onto the hope that somewhere inside my mother was a good person, stuck under the thumb of a tyrant. Or maybe she wasn't too bright and someday she'd get a clue and take care of me the way she couldn't with him around. Her heartless reaction to me crushed my hope. Then stomped on it. Then ground it into the pavement. She wasn't a good person. She knew exactly what she was doing by staying with Paul and lying by omission about my father. She wasn't dumb, she was clever and devious and got everything that she ever wanted without a care as to how it affected me. She was a shitty mother and the fact that she didn’t know how to be any better was not an excuse. She never wanted to do any better by me because, I knew it that moment that it wasn't just Paul who thought I was a mistake. It was her, too. Mother or not, I was a chump for ever loving her.

  They say in college you ponder all that deep shit like your mortality or whatever. The difference between me and everyone else is that the pondering led somewhere. It led down a train of thought that was twisted and dark. I was completely and utterly alone. If I died the next day, there'd be no one to speak for me. If I disappeared the next day, there'd be no one to look for me. My life...my death wouldn't mean anything to anyone.

  I'd spent so much of my time while living with mom and Paul fighting the urge to feel sorry for myself. So hard sometimes it was to keep my head above water. It could've been so easy for me to slip under -to drown in the self-pity, and let it consume me but I didn't. I worked at making trash into treasure. The pot of gold was getting into college, and moving out of the house. I'd done that, but now what? I had no idea how to proceed with my life. No clue what I was going to do after college, even after that semester and I panicked.

  Literally.

  I didn't see her leave, but instead heard the door click shut and everything went blurry and staccato. Everytime I blinked the room changed and shifted I labored for breath, the tightness in my chest increasing, I tried to calm myself. I tried to do anything to just get enough air, felt like someone was sitting on me. Someone who could also reach into my chest and crush my lungs. I was drowning, I had to get air. I stumbled to the door because it felt like the walls of the room were closing in. The hallway wasn't any better. The hallway was underwater. I heard sounds, but they were muffled. I couldn't breathe. I cried out, or tried, but no sound came out. Then, the muffled sounds were drowned out by the sound of my own wheezing and gasping. I was spinning. Was I? I don't know but I do remember the sensation of spinning, and all I wanted was for it to stop. I clawed at the wall in front of me to get any leverage but nothing helped. I was falling. I was falling and spinning. This is it, I thought. I'm dying.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Teddy

  I was going to leave the letters on the table. Let that little sophomore girl sweep them into the trash with the broken glass of my empty beer bottles. I'd even gotten up to leave but she chased me out, "hey," she screamed as she jogged toward me. "Hey, you forgot your papers."

  "Thanks," was all I could say after seven beers. I climbed the short staircase up out of the Rath and was blinded by the early evening sun. I couldn't drive yet so I walked across the campus to the riverside and read the six page letter one more time. I had every intention of chucking it in the water when I finished, but I couldn't. Reading it again, I was even more sure of my feelings for her.

  So I cried instead.

  I felt like the biggest pussy on earth but I stood by the riverbank and cried like a baby. I'd fucked up and lost her. She didn't want my goddamned letters any more than she wanted to talk to her family. I screwed up what I thought was the best thing I'd ever have because of my own selfishness. I was no better than her abusive mother.

&
nbsp; I carried the letters around with me as a penance for what I'd done. I tortured myself for days with the realization of how bad I'd fucked up. I was wallowing and didn't give a shit. A week later, I was leaving class and when I turned on my phone there was a text from Iris. "Teddy, meet me at the Rath in ten minutes." I ran. Not because I cared at all about being late, I could make her wait, but because I needed to know about Charley.

  When I got to the Rath she was seated in the same booth as before, with a glass of white wine in front of her. I slid into the booth and held my breath. Beyond Charley, I had no idea what she'd want to speak with me about.

  "Teddy," she cleared her throat and kept her eyes on her wine glass. "I'm going to ask you a question and you'd better not bullshit me. What do you know about Adam and Charley?"

  “Why?"

  "Just answer the question.”

  "I can't unless I know why you're asking."

  "Just something she said when I saw her."

  "You saw her? How is she?"

  "That's beside the point. I need to know what you know."

  "I can't do that, Mrs. F. I won't betray her trust. You want to know, ask her. Now, how is she?"

  "She's...fine, I guess. I don't know...we..." she fumbled over the words and fingered the stem of the wine glass nervously. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together, there.

  "Didn't go well, I gather." It was a smug thing to say and wasn't winning me any points with Mrs. F but after the way she cut me down the last time, I needed it.

  "Fine. If it makes you feel any better, then I admit that I was a horrible mother because of the choices I made, but I love my daughter."

  "Actually it doesn't make me feel any better. Actually it makes me feel a whole lot worse."

  "Teddy, listen to me," something in Mrs. F's eyes softened and I, for a second, felt kind of bad for her. "She trusts you. She doesn't give that away lightly. I tried, a little, to get her to trust me but...I always said that once she was out of the house, I'd be free to have a closer relationship to her. Now, she won't let me in. She told me she never wants to see me again." This made me laugh a little because Charley had told me the same thing. Twice. And I knew all too well how serious she was about it. "I may have done irreparable damage to my relationship with her." There was a long pause. If she wanted me to refute her, I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. She did do irreparable damage. So I waited for her to continue and she did with a ragged breath, "I just...at the time...I was scared and vulnerable and didn't know what else to do. I didn't think I had any other options. I love my daughter, but I don't know my daughter. Paul... I was afraid to know her. Now that she's gone I...I have a chance to know her."