Page 115 of Finding Home

“Ok, but why were you at his grave?” Elle persisted, venom dripping from each word.

“To forgive him.”

“Excuse me?” Elle roared with indignation.

“No, not for the rape.” Her mom insisted firmly, grabbing Elle’s arm and twisting her back around to face her. “Never for that. There’s a special corner in hell with a hot poker that will be inserted where the sun doesn’t shine for that piece of dog poop.”

For some reason the use of “dog poop” made Elle want to laugh. Her mom had never been a big swearer. Every now and then, curse words would slip out, but they were rare.

“Dog poop? What would Pastor Danny say about such language?” Elle mocked with a slightly playful lilt to her tone.

“He knows I am far from perfect.” Her mom relaxed her grip on Elle’s shoulders but still maintained contact. “I was there to forgive Jamie because I blamed him for so long for losing you. He didn’t cause that. I did. I was a terrible mother. I should have held your hand instead of you holding mine. To say I am sorry will never be enough. I’m sorry for everything I missed, all the events of your life. I can’t ever get those back.” She dropped her hand. “Even if things remain as they are, I just wanted you to know that I am to blame. Your heart is such a precious gift that I didn’t take care of. You deserve so much more than me.”

Tears stung Elle’s eyes and her lower lip trembled.

This apology was raw, honest, and without a requested transaction. It was filled with hard truths from someone that had truly taken stock of their actions. It asked for nothing in return. Her mother didn’t beg for absolution or a second chance, her only need was for Elle to know that she was blameless. Elle had always felt that if she’d somehow been different, somehow more, her mom would have chosen her. It was never Elle who wasn’t enough, it was her mom that felt lacking.

Elle swiped at her eyes and invited her mom upstairs. They sat at the kitchen table with a pot of peppermint tea steeping. Elle’s hands folded in her lap as they sat. Her mother gazed around the condo, taking in the details of Elle’s life.

The silence between them was both awkward and contented. How long had it been since she sat at a table with her mom?

“Do you remember how I’d push the chairs up against the window in the dining room to create my own window seat for reading?” Elle asked, breaking the silence.

“To this day when I see big windows, I think about that.” Her mom smiled. “The apartment I live in has a window seat. I rented it because of that. It makes me feel close to you.”

“Apartment? What about Grandma’s house?” Elle gaped.

“I couldn’t stay there. It was too painful. I sold it ten years ago.”

“Pete never said anything.”

“I asked him not to. I felt bad doing it, but I knew it was what I needed to do. That house had too many memories. I couldn’t keep walking through the front door each day facing them. I’m sorry. I should have let Pete tell you,” Mom explained with remorseful eyes.

“I wish I had known…” Elle paused thinking of her childhood home.

What would she have done? When she left eighteen years ago, she never looked back. In the brief times she returned to Perry before moving to Los Angeles, she’d never driven past that house. Yes, there had been beautiful memories in that house, but it was haunted with the phantoms of so much pain that Elle didn’t want to revisit. Pain tends to linger in the foundation of homes. Elle was happy to be rid of it and to know her mom no longer lived there. That house had ceased to be a home long ago.

“I’m glad it’s gone. You deserve a fresh start.” Elle reached for the pot and poured two cups of tea.

The lavender curtains stirred in the warm Santa Anna breeze from the open sliding door that led to the balcony. A mix of fresh mint from the tea and salty ocean air filled the room.

Mom grinned. “This place is lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“I won’t pretend I haven’t internet stalked you through the years. I’ve read articles about the work you’ve done with Sloan-Whitney. I’m so proud of you. I know your grandma would be too. She always said you were the smartest of us all and she was right.”

Elle’s heart squeezed with a happy sadness at that.

“I also look at your Instagram and the accounts of your friends in your pictures just in case they post something with you that you’re not tagged in. I see you and Viet are still close. I remember you telling me about him. I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

Elle raised a teasing eyebrow. “If you weren’t my mom, Instagram stalking me would be totally creepy.”

Elle drank her tea, contemplating this. If she didn’t want to be found, she could have made it more difficult. Had Elle left her Instagram public in a secret hope that her mom would look? As angry as Elle had been, she’d always hoped that one day her mother would reach out.

They may never have the mother/daughter relationship either of them wanted, but they could have something else, something in-between.

“I’m going to start seeing a therapist on Friday,” Elle said.

---