Page 74 of The Two Halves of My Heart

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s the matter?” She stepped out and wrapped me up in her arms, offering me the comfort I’d lost over the last few weeks. I clung to her, desperate to unload all my pain onto the one person who’d always looked out for me. “Come on inside, we can talk,” she whispered against my head as she smoothed my hair down my back.

She held me up as we walked into the house, and I dropped down onto the sofa and fell into her, letting the sobs bubble free and break from my chest. All she did was gently rock me back and forth until all the tears were cried.

My lips were dry and cracked, my nose stuffy and blocked and my eyes were so puffy I couldn’t open them fully. It was the first time I’d ever cried like this—big, ugly teardrops that came from deep within me rather than superficial tears that released only a fraction of the emotion inside.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s the matter?” She slowly released me, her arms still in contact with my body in case I needed the continued reassurance.

“It’s Maddison. We had a fight.”

She squeezed my hand. “Darling, couples fight. It’s not unusual.”

“I know, but it’s got really bad, Mum. And I don’t know what to do.” It was a mess, and I didn’t know how I felt, not really, because I still loved him. But I couldn’t continue to be with him if things stayed like this. In what world did he think he could just up and leave for days? He promised he’d never leave, and then this?

“I’m sure you’ll be able to work things out.”

“He’s mixed up in some stuff that’s not good for him. He’s not the same person anymore. He won’t listen to me.”

“Drugs?” Mum pulled away and sounded scared.

“No. Fights. He’s part of some circle of fighting. I’ve only been a few times, but I hate it, and I hate that he does it.”

Mum turned to me, the earlier compassion replaced with a serious tone. “Baby, listen to me. This is serious. You can’t go to another one of these fights, okay? They are no good. Take it from me.”

“I know. I remember what you told me about my father.” I knew this must have been hard for her to hear.

“I waited too long to leave. I should have never put you in harm’s way, and I’ve been running from that misstep since. Don’t make the same mistakes as I did,” she pleaded, my hands in hers and tears threatening to drop from her lashes. “You might not think it’s too late, but if you’re like this? This upset already…” she shook her head and pulled me into her embrace again.

I hadn’t made the obvious connection—that Maddison was acting just like my father had. I’d been so wrapped up in the romance that I’d forgotten that I’d been following in my mum’s footsteps.

“I think it’s time for me to share something else with you.”

Mum got up and disappeared for a few moments. She came back with a shoebox and handed it to me. At the bottom were a handful of letters. I’d never wanted to know about my dad. I accepted what my mum told me about him and never spent too much time wondering, but now there was a connection to him, sitting right there, it started me thinking.

“Are these from my father?” I picked up the first one, and I recognised the handwriting.

“No. They’re from Oliver.”

---