Page 90 of When We Are Falling

The woman who left.

My mind goes back to how things used to be—how Mama Charlotte would always sit next to Mom at the kitchen table, how they would share little smiles and hold hands, how they’d finish each other’s sentences like they were in tune with each other’s thoughts.

Now, they’re sitting across from each other, an ocean of distance between them after Mama Charlotte’s big mistake, and I’m stuck in the middle, pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.

I swallow hard, trying again to push down the lump in my throat. I wish they’d just talk about everything. I wish they’d remember how good it used to be, how we were a team, and heal all the brokenness between them.

Ethan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and gives me another apologetic look, like he knows this lunch is destined to spiral out of control, but he’s not sure how to stop it. He clears his throat. “So, Charlotte, how are you finding Philly?”

Mama Charlotte’s lips press into a thin line, and she gives a curt nod. “It’s fine. Busier than Harbor’s Edge.” She doesn’t offer anything more.

Mom takes a sip of her drink. “Philadelphia must be nice. A big change from here.” Her expression hardens. “I suppose busy is what you wanted. Maybe you found everything here too quiet, too familiar.”

Mama Charlotte’s eyes flash with something—anger, maybe hurt—and she lifts her chin slightly. “Well, I think we both needed some space, don’t you?”

Ethan glances between them, and it’s clear even he’s feeling out of his depth. “Uh, well, Harbor’s Edge isn’t exactly quiet these days, not now the cleanup is mostly done. Quite a lot of tourists are coming back.”

Mom forces a smile, but it’s brittle. “Yes, I’ve heard business is picking up again. You and the Valiant Hearts boys have been doing a lot of good work. We’re all very grateful.”

“Just doing what we can,” he says, but a muscle ticks in his jaw. He’s trying to keep this from falling apart, but it’s like watching a car crash in slow motion.

Mama Charlotte leans back in her chair, her arms crossing over her chest. “I’ve actually got a business meeting to get to this afternoon. It was a lovely idea to get together for lunch, but I’ll need to go soon.”

“The food should be here any minute,” Ethan says, looking around for a waiter. “Let me check.”

Mom is staring at Mama Charlotte. “A business meeting. Is that what you’re calling her these days?”

Mama Charlotte looks up. “Are we really going to do this here? Now?”

Mom’s eyes narrow, and her voice drops. “Do what? Acknowledge the elephant in the room? The fact that you stepped out of our marriage, have met someone else, and are moving on?”

As their voices rise, the emotions I’ve been trying to suppress gather in strength. How could they do this—how could they let things get so bad? The words I want to say are stuck in my throat, and all I can do is sit there, feeling like that scared little girl again, the one who just wanted her dad but instead got moved from foster home to foster home until these women saved me. And now they’re tearing each other apart right in front of me, and I can’t do anything to stop it.

Ethan gives me another look, this one more desperate, as if silently asking if he should step in. But there’s nothing he can do: this has been simmering for too long, and now it’s finally boiling over.

“Let it go,” Mama Charlotte says. “Not here.”

“I can’t just let it go, damnit,” Mom snaps, her voice rising. She quickly catches herself, forcing her tone back to one of strained politeness. “But it’s pretty clear talking about us is not what you want. You’ve given up fighting for us.”

Mama Charlotte’s eyes soften for a brief moment. “I did wantus, Trudy. I wanted it for a long time. But things change...”

“Spare me thebut,” Mom interrupts, her voice flat. “I’ve heard it all before.”

I glance at Ethan, who’s staring at the table. Without warning, Mom pushes back her chair and stands.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” she says coldly, grabbing her purse. “It was nice to see you, Ethan, and I’m sorry I can’t stay. I’ll catch you at home, Blake.”

She doesn’t look at Mama Charlotte, doesn’t even acknowledge her as she turns and walks out of the restaurant. Mama Charlotte watches her go. Then she shakes her head, and stands as well, her gaze locked on me.

“I’m sorry. This was a mistake. Look, I need to talk to your mom.” She gives me a quick, almost apologetic look before turning and walking out.

As I watch them go, the old familiar ache of being left behind swells in my chest, choking me with its intensity. I want to scream, to run after them and beg them to stay, but I’m frozen in place, the pain too overwhelming. It’s not just that they fought: it’s that deep, gnawing feeling of abandonment creeping up from the darkest corners of my mind, clawing its way back to the surface.

The same feeling that haunted me through foster care, that came back when Danny died. When I found out about my dad’s overdose.

When I rely on others too much, they leave.

Chapter 42

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