Page 84 of Falling for Fury

“What?”

“He said you were a lot stronger than we all gave you credit for. He was right.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Casey asks, rubbing my shoulder from the couch. She and Rosie are clearing out for a few hours while I have Mom and Riley over—the repair train in full force this week after my successful visit with Matt and Ava. After Matt’s little bombshell about a hidden conversation with Noah, he clarified the details of everything that happened, solidifying everything Noah said as truth. That they’d made a deal with Dad for the sake of both their companies when it all inevitably came out in the wash, anyway. Matt had apologized and said he wished he could have handled things differently. It was pointless, things happened, and really it might even make the family better for it. Mom certainly dodged that long-term bullet.

“I’ll be fine. It’s not like they are bringing Dad with them.” Well, that would be impossible considering he is officially in custody, awaiting his trial, impatiently, I’m sure.

Rosie nods and meets Casey at the door. “Just message us if you need, we’re only going to JJ’s,” Casey says as they leave.

After about twenty minutes, Mom and Riley arrive, and I realize this is actually the first-time Mom has come over. “I love the sun you get through these windows!” Mom beams as she stands by the window. Riley gives me an awkward look and gestures to the bathroom, leaving me alone with Mom.

“Mom,” I say softly from beside her. She lets go of a big breath.

“I’m sorry, Addison.”

“What on earth for, Mom? You’re the one going through all this shit with Dad.”

“For being a bad mom.” Well, then. I blink back the tears that prick behind my eyes, threatening to make this conversation way more emotional than I had been prepared for.

Be vulnerable, let them in, but be firm in your boundaries. You’ll be surprised how much closer you become to them when you set boundaries. My therapist’s words clang through me as I center my breath and place a hand on Mom’s arm, getting her to finally look at me. Her tear-filled eyes hit me, and it hurts something deep within my chest.

“Mom, I love you.” I whisper the words because if I say them too loud, I will implode and become a puddle of tears. Mom, on the other hand, does just that, and practically collapses in my arms. I stand there holding her. This woman, who looked at me like I was an injured bird my whole life, was here in my arms as I held her while she cried. I direct us to the couch and sit, and I let a few of my tears fall. “Mom, I’m going to need to say things, and I need you to let me finish without interrupting me.” She pulls back and assesses me with nervous eyes, but nods and wipes under her eyes. “You are not a bad mom. Maybe for a few years, you haven’t been there for me like I wanted or needed you to be. I think I have been really mad at you for not protecting me from Dad and the way he bullied us. But I forgive you, and I don’t blame you. I think maybe you have… things you need to sort out, to heal. You were only acting through your own version of a trauma response, and I can see it now.” She cries more and I have to look to the ceiling to center myself. Searching for my strength to keep going. To push past the sour taste of guilt left on my tongue as I speak each word.

Be firm in your boundaries.

“You need to give me room to grow—”

“I do give you room—”

“Mom. Let me finish. You don’t. You worry for me, I understand that. You worry I might be unwell, not handling things and heading for a dark spiral. I know my history gives you probable cause for worrying. But I can’t grow or change if you slap a fragile label on me and worry that something might be too much for me. I’m an adult, and although I’m your child, you need to let go enough to trust that I know what’s best for me. And if I make a bad decision as I go, that’s okay. That’s how I’m going to learn and grow. We can’t all be perfect. Please, just let me be exactly who I am and not make me feel like I can’t or shouldn’t.” She nods and wipes a few more tears. Her interruption was enough to sober my emotions and that inner wrath powering me through my speech.

Your fury is not your weakness. It is your greatest strength.

Noah’s words are a painful stab to my stomach. Not even three weeks and I miss him already. I can’t… no room for those feelings right now.

“I don’t…” Mom takes a breath, closes her eyes as she composes herself. “I don’t know how to do that. I didn’t know I was… well, I’m sorry. I will try.” And that’s all we can do. I smile at her and nod. “You know I love you, right?” she says as she sobs and that about does me in and the dam walls break, tears falling as I grab Mom. Holding each other for a minute.

At this point, I’m certain Riley is just hanging out in my room until the crying is done. Giving Mom and me the much-needed privacy.

“I know, Mom. I’ve always known. I was just too angry to admit it to myself.” I hold her tight and she rubs my back a few times before we pull back. She cups my cheek, tugging a hair behind my ear, like she always did when I was a kid. “How have you been doing?” I ask.

“Well. Honestly, I don’t know. I think I might still be in shock. Riley keeps me busy, distracting me. She is actually hilarious. Have you spent time with her recently? I don’t know if she is making me laugh as a distraction or if she was always this funny, and I was too wrapped up in my own crap to pay her any attention.”

“She’s pretty funny.” I nod and give Mom a little smile. Riley was full of surprises. I think with all of us moving out and Mom and Dad being a bit absent, she’s had to entertain herself, possibly making her a little insane, but that’s a conversation for another day.

“And… what about Dad?”

“I really don’t want to think about that man for a good long while. Things with us have been crappy for a while. I’m glad for the excuse for the marriage to end, but it still hurts. It’s important that you all understand… If twenty-year-old me knew what I know now, I’d still do it all again, just so I could have you kids. You’re my whole heart, and I’d go through all the pain and torment again if it meant having you each exactly as you are. I regret nothing.” Her words are strong and her face is set in certainty.

Goddammit.

Her declaration, the determination in her eyes, sets me off again, except this time, I hear sobs from the doorway. As I pull back and look over my shoulder, I see Riley standing there, arms wrapped around her stomach as she sobs.

“Riles. Come here.” I wave her over and she all but runs and plants herself to my side, holding tight.

“I’m sorry I’m a crappy sister,” I apologize to Riley. I really should have been there for her more, supported her more, instead we left her alone, through the years where she really could have done with some siblings.

“I forgive you,” she says back to me between sobs that make Mom and I laugh.

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