Page 77 of That Secret Something

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes continued to wander around the mess on my bedroom floor.

A few beats of silence passed between us before I spoke. “What’re you doing here, Mum?”

“You haven’t been answering your phone, so I was worried.”

My eyebrows quirked. “I’m fine.”

Mum didn’t even entertain my answer. “No, you’re not.”

More silence.

Mum took a step into my room, her focus catching on the mountain of used tissues on my bed. She scratched her head, ruffling her short, shaggy hair. “Do you want to…talk about it?”

If I had the energy, my jaw would’ve dropped. My mother, voluntarily opening a conversation about feelings? The world had gone mad.

She seemed to clock the confusion on my face and shuffled closer, her eyes looking everywhere but at me. “I know what’s happened. Sally told me.”

That hit like a punch to the gut. Now my mum was going to join in with the finger-pointing too. That was all I needed—a motherly lecture.

“I’m not here to judge.” She tucked her hands into her jeans pockets. “I just want you to know I’m here.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Mum.” I didn’t know what else to say.

She lingered for a moment before deciding to perch on the end of my bed. I couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever done something like that anywhere, never mind in my bedroom. “There’s no pretending I’m good at this, because I’m not,” she started, her hands folded in her lap. She stared at the wall. “You’ve always had your grandma for that, but when she passed, I should’ve been better. I should’ve been better before that, too, but I’m…not good with these situations. I think we can both agree on that.”

It was true. Ever since I came out to her, we’d not ever really had a heart-to-heart about anything.

I’d spent so long getting worked up about telling her, preparing what I was going to say and writing it in a letter. Then when I gave it to her, she read it in silence. All the while, I was anxiously waiting. Once she’d finished, she said, “Thank you for telling me,” stood, and left the room.

In my head, I’d imagined an argument or a hug—as rare as they were. Maybe some tears. At least a conversation. Just anything. But her silence had rocked me. It had made me nervous and anxious about saying or doing anything in the house. That was probably why I’d spent so much time at Lily’s place. I never felt accepted by my mum, and like hell was I going to bring up my sexuality again after that.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” I heard myself ask.

She stopped folding and re-folding her hands. I knew she knew what I was talking about. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“Something. Anything to not make me feel like the world’s biggest disappointment.” Tears pricked my eyelids. I thought I would’ve been all cried out by now, but her words poked at familiar wounds.

Mum glanced at me, the frown line deepening on her forehead. “Why would you think that?”

I sat up in bed, brushing the tears away with my fingertips. “Because it’s true, isn’t it? Why else would you shut me out? Not talk to me? Not care if I got married or not?”

“I’m not good at expressing my feelings,” Mum said, locking her fingers together. “And I’m even worse than I thought, if I’ve made you feel this way.” She shook her head. “But you could never be a disappointment to me, Jess. Look at everything you’ve achieved. What a beautiful and kind person you are. I don’t know where you get that compassion from, but it isn’t me, and it certainly isn’t your grandma.”

That made me flinch. What did she mean by that? Grandma always invited me around to hers whenever Mum worked late, so I wouldn’t be alone. She listened to me and took an interest in my friends. She asked about crushes I had—though I never admitted anything about Rebecca. I wondered what she’d think about this situation. She hadn’t batted an eyelid when I’d told her about my sexuality.

Mum pursed her lips. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

I could sense she was holding back, but I wanted to know. “What is it?”

She took a look at my tear-stained face and sighed. “It’s unfair to talk about it when your grandma isn’t here to defend herself.”

“But don’t I deserve to know? Mum, please. Talk to me.”

“Very well.” She turned towards me but didn’t meet my gaze. “You know about your dad… My parents pushed me into a marriage I didn’t want. I had no choice in the matter, or in most matters of my life, really. She was always in my business, telling me what I could and couldn’t wear, where I could work, who I could be friends with. Until I divorced your dad.” She glanced at me briefly before picking at the skin on her thumb. “Now, you won’t remember this, you were too young, but we didn’t see your grandma for a few years. She didn’t want anything to do with us.”

I blinked. That didn’t make sense to me. “Really? Grandma? Why?”

“She didn’t like my decisions. Tried to punish me, I guess, but it only meant that she missed out on you.”

---