Page 35 of If Only You Hurt

I place my bag in the foyer and follow my mom into the kitchen. Even though I didn’t grow up in this house, no matter where my mom goes, I feel like I belong. She has this presence, this welcoming heart, that wraps me up when I feel like I’m plummeting.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and then we can sit down, and you can tell me what’s bothering you.” It’s not a question but a statement. I nod again, my words still not at the forefront of my lips.

My mom busies herself, and soon she’s at the small kitchen table, looking at me, and it feels like all my secrets are safe with this woman. Being raised solely by her, I feel a bond with my mother that is exponentially different from Becca’s experience, yet not in any way better. We just formed a different relationship.

Becca allowed my mother to lean on her while she mourned the death of our father, while I got to be a kid my entire life without feeling the weight of my father’s loss. Sure, he wasn’t around, but he also was not someone I ever got to know. His absence was felt throughout all the movements between my mother and sister, but for me, life carried on and never felt like it was lacking. And that’s thanks to my mother. She was always a pillar of strength in a way that helped me through all stages of my life. So, I only see her as a stable force in my life and right now, I need to lean on her more than ever.

I see the worry lines etched across my mom’s face, but much like me, she gives me the space to figure out my thoughts before I say them. I’ve never been a reactionary person. I pride myself in the ability to hold in my first reaction and allow myself the room to process what’s happening around me. Much like earlier, I wanted to explode and tell Laney how selfish she was at that moment, but I held back. I kept my hurtful words to myself and thought through what I should say. I’ve found that by keeping my reactions minimal, I keep from causing more pain. I learned that from my mom.

“Laney, um, she, she—” I pinch the bridge of my nose, the headache I felt in the back of my head when the confession first came out starting to reel its ugly head. I take a calming breath in, and when I let it out, I word-vomit everything, “She was pregnant that day of the shooting. She was pregnant with my child, our child. And she didn’t tell me. She didn’t ever mention she was pregnant prior, nor did she tell me she lost the baby that day while the shooting occurred.”

It feels just as painful saying it as it did hearing it from Laney hours ago. I feel my chest tighten, and the tears pool in my eyes. I don’t even try to hide it, and I allow the tears to fall. I’m heartbroken. Sure, the pain stems from the life lost, but most of all, the pain resides deep inside because I realize I wasn’t a priority for Laney, even as she healed.

I put her first; I made sure she was seen and heard, but her actions proved in an instant that my feelings came last. Not even that they came second, but that I was not at all at the forefront of her mind as over a decade passed from the moment she found out about the life we made to the moment she told me she lost that precious life.

“I feel betrayed by the one person I’ve ever fully loved in that way. Laney is my everything, and in an instant, she showed me I’m nothing. That’s how this feels, at least. It truly feels like a betrayal.

“And it’s hard for me to accept that I’ve been over here, trying to mend this bridge for her, a bridge I thought I had nothing to do with, only to find out that a big part of the reason that bridge is so fucking messed up has something to do with me. Like I was in an uphill battle, I didn’t realize I would never climb over.”

I am playing with a part of the wood on the table that seems to have a bit of an indent, avoiding my mother’s gaze. I finally look up to see my mother’s expression mimics mine. It’s pained, but she’s also crying with me. My pain is her pain, I realize.

She continues to sit with me, our tears the only expression between us, until she finally says something in return. “I have gone a long time in my life knowing what loss felt like. A loss of a spouse. A loss of the possibilities but I can’t imagine the loss Laney has felt. And now I watch you feel that same kind of loss, and I have no clue how it feels.

“But I can tell you this, Grant. Loss, no matter when you hear about it, is still loss. Laney went through something horrific. No matter how you slice it, she’s experienced something most of us hope to never witness. She sat in that room, knowing her friends were being killed, knowing one of those friends saved her instead of himself, yet she’s found a way to move forward. Add in the fact that she had life growing inside her, something she had just discovered, only to have that ripped away from her. I just, uh, my heart hurts for her.”

I nod because I agree. The loss Laney experienced was too great for any heart to bear.

“I don’t say that to diminish your pain. I really don’t, sweetie. But it’s hard for me to look at this one-sidedly. I see both of your pains, and I feel them in such different ways. I can’t imagine the shock you felt at her confession. I bet it was a slap to the face in many ways, especially coming from someone as close as Laney.” My mother takes a breath to gather her thoughts to continue.

“But then my heart hurts knowing that she felt so alone with that pain only a mother can feel. The hormones that had been coursing through her body, and she felt like her only way to cope with it was to carry that with her, alone, without confiding even in the one person she loves most—you.”

That’s the thing about what Laney finally told me about that ill-fated day. It’s not that I’m angry to the point I won’t speak to her again. A part of me automatically forgave Laney the moment she let out this secret she had held so close to her heart for so long. That stems from the fact that I truly love her and my whole being hurt knowing she was in pain. But the other part of why I need this time away stems from the fact that I felt hurt that she hadn’t felt comfortable telling me. And in many ways, I wonder if she ever would have said a thing had I not broached the subject of wanting more with her.

My mom sits with me, allowing me space and freedom to feel my emotions. That’s the thing; my mom doesn’t hold judgment. She simply lets us feel, which is more than I can ask for. In a world full of so much stimulation, sometimes sitting with our emotions is the most important thing we can do to process how we feel.

“I don’t know how to look at her and not think that she didn’t see me as someone to tell. She didn’t feel like I was a safe place for her when that’s all she is for me.”

My mind is going in circles, constantly going back to that thought: I’m not her first choice, even when I should have been her only choice when confiding in the fact that she lost our baby that day. While I did what I could to show her where she stood in my life, her lack of expression leads me to feel like I wasn’t thought about at all in her decisions or her processing of the miscarriage.

“Have you thought about the fact that you were her only focus when it came to the baby and the loss it brought to her life, and ultimately yours?” My mom throws that question out there, and I am immediately confused.

“How so?” I ask because my mind is exhausted in trying to figure out the intricacies of the human brain.

“Grant, you start, and Laney ends. You’ve always been that way, even when you two were too tiny to fully form sentences. You molded into this unit, and I never saw a more perfect soulmate for someone. Even Shane, whom I will say fit your sister’s life better than anyone else ever did.” My mother rolls her eyes because she was never a huge fan of my sister’s ex-husband, Hudson, and the day they got divorced, it was like I saw my mother take a full breath of air again. “You and Laney were effortless. You were never careless with one another. Each decision always led to making the other happy.

“Never did I see you treat her recklessly, even with all the girlfriends you had. In return, she never made you feel less than when she was in different relationships throughout the years. No matter what the two of you have been through, never has there been animosity or bickering. It’s always been a level of respect for the friendship and, ultimately, the relationship you two have worked so hard to maintain.” For some reason, the way my mother is speaking, it feels like all those times I thought we were hiding our feelings, my mother saw right through it.

“Grant, have you pondered the idea that her omission wasn’t a sign of disrespect but one to hopefully help you feel like life continued beautifully? Laney’s life changed that day years ago, but have you ever considered she didn’t want it to mute your own life? She sacrificed her own pain in order for you to feel like life didn’t rob you of something special as it had hers.

“She did something that may seem selfish in your eyes, or maybe feels like she lacked love in doing so toward you, but in reality, I think Laney came from a place of conservation for you. She made this unilateral decision to rid you of the possibility of hating that day more than you already did.”

My mom gives me a minute to process her words then continues.

“I will not sit here and act like I know Laney better than you, but I will say I know her well. I saw the way she looked at you. I saw the love she held in her gaze whenever her eyes darted in your direction. She’s never lacked love for you. And for some reason, I cannot think of her doing this without putting love first. The only thing is, her love is being expressed differently than you would have done it. Which is understandably hurtful for you. But it doesn’t make it ultimately wrong. Does that make any sense?”

I take in everything she’s said and try to see this from a different point of view. My thoughts start to dissect into other avenues of possibilities.

“Also, Grant, I know you and Laney thought you were all discrete, but pretty much everyone knew what you two were up to.”

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