by Lara Swann
I stare into my coffee cup, as if that could possibly hold any answers, my fingers slightly burned from holding it so tightly but some part of me relishing the physical discomfort, that slight distraction from everything going on around me.
“You don’t have to know the answer, obviously.” She adds when I don’t say anything, or even look at her. “I can wait as long as you need. If…if we do anything at all, it can be however you want.”
I still don’t say anything - and I idly wonder whether I look like a petulant child right now, but I don’t really care. That’s not what this is. It’s just…all a little too much. It’s awkward and hard and I’m not sure why I came and I can’t work out what to do about any of it.
“Why now?” I ask, out of nowhere, some of the why questions finally catching up with me. “There were years and years where if you’d appeared and wanted me, I would probably have forgiven you anything and you could have gone straight into being my Mom. Why did you come back now?”
“I’ve asked myself the same thing.” She says, sighing softly and raising her cup to her lips. “It’s been a long time. I think I was waiting until I felt ready…until I felt like I could handle the responsibility—”
“And you think you can now?”
Now that I’m twenty-eight and managing my own life just fine? Now that it’s easy and you don’t actually have to do anything?
This time, the bitterness in my voice is obvious - but she surprises me by shaking her head.
“No. I still wasn’t ready…especially with all the time that had passed, all the things that have built up…” She takes another sip of coffee, not seeming upset about my attitude as she quietly tries to explain. “But then I started wondering if I’d ever feel ready…so I decided to come anyway.”
It takes me a moment to try to reconcile that, to understand…something. I have no idea what to think.
What the hell does that even mean, anyway? Being ready? Ready for what, exactly?
I shake my head, all of this feeling like entirely too much for me, my emotions shifting between confused and incredulous as I look at the woman across from me. The one I expected so much from and got…nothing.
That’s suddenly the thing that hits me most and I can’t help it - the one question I’d tormented myself with for years finally bubbles up inside me, spilling over. I wasn’t sure it was still important anymore - and maybe it isn’t - but if any of this matters at all, that’s what I want to know. I look up at her and finally ask the only thing I’ve ever wanted to know, direct and unapologetic.
“Why did you leave me, Mom? Just…just…why?”
I try not to sound like the injured kid as I say it. I’m not sure how successful that is, but right now I’m not even sure I care. It’s the one thing that cuts right to the core of me.
Her face tightens with the obvious pain - and I hate the mixture of pity and sadness in her eyes as she looks at me.
She doesn’t get to pity you for the situation she caused, damn it.
When she finally answers, it’s with another long breath and it looks like she’s working herself up to it.
“I didn’t know how to be the Mom you needed, Jessica.” She says, her voice sad and almost resigned. “I was so young. I didn’t know how to be your Mom - and I didn’t know how to be the daughter Mom and Dad wanted, either. They knew what they were doing, better than I ever could, and I thought if I went away…made something of myself…I could come back and I’d be a better Mom for you. Someone you deserved—”
“You didn’t come back.” It’s hard not to grind out the words against the pain of everything she’s saying. Everything she promised me as a kid. It sounds just like that. “You said you’d come back to stay, but you never did.”
She nods, not trying to defend it. “I know. I wanted to but…it never felt like I got there. It never felt like I was good enough to be your Mom. And as time passed, it got harder and harder to think about it. I thought maybe it would be better for all of you - for you and Mom and Dad - if I didn’t come back. If I didn’t disrupt your life together—”
“That’s bullshit. All of it. The only thing I ever needed from you - the only thing I wanted - was for you to be there. I don’t care what kind of Mom you would have been. I don’t give a damn if you might have made mistakes. That’s how you god-damn learn.” It feels totally bizarre to be lecturing my Mom on parenting - me, who doesn’t even have a kid - but I go with it anyway, too much pent up emotion to contain. “The one thing that wouldn’t teach you how to be a good Mom? Disappearing to another State by yourself! The only thing I needed was you there. That’s what made you a bad Mom. Not being sixteen or clueless or anything else. Giving up on me, that’s the only thing you did wrong.”
When I finally run out of steam, finding myself almost breathless and struggling to get myself back together after the outburst, she just nods again. If I couldn’t clearly see the pain in her expression, I’d almost think she didn’t care from her non-reaction - but maybe she was just expecting this. I guess I would be too, if I was going to see a daughter I’d abandoned for most of my life.
“I know. I know that now. I shouldn’t have left you and I shouldn’t have stayed away. It took a long time, but eventually I realized that. I was stupid and—and I was scared, Jessica. I was scared for not being good enough for you all.”
“So you ran away.”
“I did. I’m sorry, Jessica. It was stupid - and selfish of me. I should have been there, and I wasn’t.”
She sits back, looking at me openly and honestly - and this time, it’s me that has to look away. As quickly as it had come, I can feel my rage start to ebb away. It’s not like I haven’t had these conversations in my mind a dozen times. I’d exhausted my anger at her years ago. As mad as it makes me, thinking about what could have been, or should have been, if she hadn’t been such a fucking coward…it’s hard to stay angry at someone who’s agreeing with everything you’ve said, and simply apologizing for it.
If anything, I just feel drained.
I let out a long breath and pick up my coffee to sip at it out of instinct more than anything else. It’s cold, but I don’t mind that so much. I just burned hot enough myself.
“I know I can’t make it up to you, but we can talk it out as much as you want. I’ll answer anything you want to know—”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I shake my head, feeling done.
I was done with thinking about all the painful things in my past before this meeting - and if anything, talking about it just made me feel more done. I’ve got an answer…but I’m not sure it even helps. I’m not sure it would have helped back then, either. It just makes me feel disappointed and sad about the whole thing.
“Do you want me to go?” She finally asks and I deliberately don’t meet her gaze. I’m not sure I can deal with seeing the compassion she obviously wants to give me right now. It’s strange to think that she has all these feelings for me and I…I don’t have a clue what I feel right now. Or what I want.
Not that that’s anything new.
Eventually, I slowly shake my head.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”
She’s quiet for a few minutes and we both slowly drink our coffee. It’s weird, but I’m not quite sure I’m ready for her to just…go. I’m just not sure I’m ready for anything else, either.
We spend some time like that in silence and while it’s not quite comfortable, it’s not too bad either.
My head feels a little like it’s stuffed with cotton - a strange numbness that hasn’t quite worked itself out yet. There are too many things going on, and I can’t quite work out whether I have too many feelings about them - or none at all.
You need time. Time for it all to settle.
I know that, but it’s hard to sit here feeling…confused.
“Maybe…” My Mom finally speaks up again, breaking into my attempt at not thinking about anything just yet. “Maybe we could just talk for a little
bit? About simple things? I know I don’t know you, after everything, and you don’t know me…but I’d like to start.”
I look back up at her, hesitating. It’s obvious she’s trying for a soft, slow approach - but just as obvious how much she wants it. There’s a part of me that can’t help not wanting to let her down, even though I know that’s stupid. But I’m not sure. I can’t imagine trying to talk to her about…anything, right now.
“I’m…not sure I’m ready for that.” I admit, feeling conflicted.
It doesn’t seem like a big request, but…I don’t know whether I want her to suddenly be a part of my life. I don’t know whether I want to share that with her. And I have no idea how I’d feel if she started talking about her life right now.
She doesn’t seem upset by my reluctance, though, and just nods.
“That’s okay.” She gives me a small smile, and it feels weird that she seems to want to make me feel better about it. I’m not sure what I think of her looking out for me. “I know it’s going to take some time for you to work out what you want.”
I nod, but I don’t say anything, playing with my empty coffee cup instead.
“I’m…I’m really glad you agreed to see me today, Jessica. Whatever you decide, I’ll always be grateful about that.” She gives me another smile, but I shift awkwardly. I don’t think I want her gratitude. “I’ll give you some space to think about things. Will you…think about it, though? Whether you’d like to meet again?”
I nod slowly. I’ve got a lot to work out, but that’s definitely part of it.
I know enough to know it’s not a straightforward no.
“Yeah. I’ll—I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.”
She rises smoothly from her chair and I can feel the way her eyes linger on me before she turns.
I hesitate another moment, but I know I’m going to feel terrible if I don’t say anything.
“Wait.”
She turns back, puzzled.
“I…um…there’s something I should tell you. Do you—can you sit down for a moment? Please?”
“What is it?” She asks, sitting back down with obvious concern. “I’ll listen to anything you have to say, Jessica, I want you to know that.”
Yeah, okay. Enough with the ‘being there for me’ crap right now.
“It’s not about me. I just…I thought you should know.” I can see her expression tighten and I take a deep breath. I have no idea how she’s going to take this. “Gramps…he had a stroke a few months back. And then another one more recently. He’s—he’s okay, but…well…this recent one has been tough.”
“Oh god.” She murmurs, her hand going to her mouth and emotions flickering across her face, too fast for me to read them.
“It’s, um, it’s okay.” I say, not knowing how to help her in the slightest. “He’s got support that’s really helping him and things are…they’re improving. Mostly, he’s just frustrated as hell not to be as independent as he’s used to.”
I try to give her a small smile with that, and she meets it genuinely, even if she still looks a bit shocked.
“Yeah.” She murmurs, more to herself than me. “I’ll bet.”
“I just…I didn’t think you knew, and I thought you might want to.” I finally say, shrugging slightly.
She nods. “Do you think…do you think I’d be able visit him sometime?”
I freeze, the question surprising me. I have no idea what he’d think of that. They haven’t seen each other in…I don’t even know how long.
Maybe she really has changed. Or worked some things out, anyway. Maybe she really does care.
I don’t like the thoughts, because they’re an echo of so many misguided hopes in the past, but I try to convince myself to be open minded about it.
“I…I don’t know. I’d have to talk to him about it.”
“Will you?” Her eyes catch on mine, bright and emotional. “Would you do that for me?”
I swallow, but eventually I nod.
She deserves that, at least. The chance. And so does he.
“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”
“Thank you, Jessica.” She says again, the words coming out in a breath. “And thank you…for telling me.”
“That’s okay.” I say, feeling a little bit awkward.
“I’ll…I’ll be around if you want to get in touch.”
I nod again and she lingers for a few moments longer. I get the feeling she’d like to stay, but she doesn’t push it and she stands up a few moments later. It feels weird watching her walk away - like an echo of my childhood, but without the desperate longing for her to come back or the desire to rush up and cling to her.
I try to shake the feeling off, raising my coffee cup to my lips before realizing it’s empty.
My head still feels a mess, but I think…I think I’m glad I did this.
I stay there a while longer and when I finally think to check my phone, just clicking on Kenneth’s name relaxes something deep inside me. I smile slightly at the feeling. Whatever happens with my Mom, if I’ve got him, it’s all going to be okay.
I message him automatically. He’ll be wanting to know I’m alright.
Me: It was okay.
That’s all I can say right now. The rest…I don’t know yet.
I put the phone back in my pocket and it buzzes almost immediately. Heh. I guess he was waiting for the message.
Kenneth: Want to come over and spend the night in my arms?
I blink, surprised, and then smile as the warmth of that idea rushes through me.
Me: Yes. Yes, I really do.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kenneth
The knock on the door makes me look up - and I smile as Jessica walks into my office.
We might be trying for ‘professional’ at work, but that doesn’t mean the sight of her doesn’t make something inside me light up. It’s getting to the point where we’re both slightly concerned that it’s too obvious. Anyone who spends more than a few minutes around the two of us when we’re together would probably pick up on it - so Jessica tries to stay out of the way as much as possible whenever I’m meeting anyone in my office.
That doesn’t stop my eyes from drifting down to that gorgeously tight pencil skirt and the glossy tights she’s wearing, though. Or my mind from following to yet another fantasy of pulling her onto my lap and making out right here in my office.
I can’t help it. Things have just been getting better and better between the two of us.
She’s staying over a few nights in the week now - and we even spent last weekend together with Abbie, and my daughter was thrilled. Of course, it helped that we did all her favorite things, but I don’t think I’m imagining how much happier she seems at the moment. Having Jessica’s attention as well as mine seems to be bringing her to life in the same way I feel so much more alive now.
It’s like I’ve spent years just trying to get through the tough hand I’ve been dealt…and I’ve finally found that there’s something at the end of all that difficulty.
She’s helping me look for another Nanny for Abbie too - mostly because I think Kara started despairing at her about the length of my search - and I’m surprised how relieved I am about that. It’s something I’ve always been so careful about and I’ve needed to be in full control over - but I don’t think I realized how much it slowed me down not to have anyone else to talk to about it.
In business, I can make quick decisions in a heart beat - but with Abbie? I’m not going to deny the thought of making the wrong choice terrifies me. Simply having Jessica there to validate some of my own thoughts has made it so much easier. We now have a shortlist and I’ve entered into discussions about a trial period with one or two. Jessica convinced me two would be better and I don’t think I can argue with that.
“Hey.” I say as she walks over toward me, then clear my throat to dislodge some of the natural affection there. “I mean, what can I do for you?”
She smiles, rol
ling her eyes at me and responding in a perfectly professional tone.
“This came for you - it looks personal and it wasn’t with the usual mail delivery, so I didn’t want to open it myself.”
She hands me a brown envelope and I take it automatically, nodding. “Thanks.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No, I should be good until my next meeting.”
“Okay, I’ll just be outside.”
I smile at her, unable to help the way my gaze catches with hers. “I know.”
She smiles back, her eyes lingering for a moment too, before turning and walking away again, my eyes drifting down to the way her gorgeous ass moves in those heels yet again.
In some ways, I’m looking forward to when she finds another job. As much as I like having her around all the time - and getting nice little glimpses like that - I can’t help wanting all the time we spend together to be about us. Not work or being professional or anything else. I don’t want to have to restrain myself, or try not to look, or touch, or anything else.
She deserves to see just how much I can’t get enough of her, every moment we’re together.
It’s not until she’s back behind her desk that I finally look at the package she handed me, opening it up without a thought, still thinking about Jessica.
I slip out the contents - and then I finally freeze, my eyes widening.
“Shit.”
In front of me are pictures of Jessica and I.
At dinner, holding her hand across the table.
At the park with Abbie.
Kissing, with my office building in the background, when I just couldn’t wait any longer.
Clipped to the pictures is a hand-written note, the author obvious.
- Last chance to settle.
“Oh, shit.”
I look at the photos - of Jessica, of Abbie - and a spike of fear shoots through me.
Then raging anger.
Jessica. Abbie. My family.
They took fucking photos of us? They followed us?!
“Fucking hell.”
My gaze flicks up to where Jessica is sat at her desk outside my office, her face not visible from this angle - and then the edge of fear comes back again. Not for me. For her - and everything this means. The high of everything we’ve done together - the buzz from our new relationship, the mind-blowing sex and feeling of finally coming home - all that crashes down around me and I run a hand through my hair.
