Page 68 of Sunny Skies Ahead
I blamed my father for shaping my mom into the woman she was now. I blamed him for never answering my questions about his side of the family. My Nana had reached out many times to try to connect me with my Black relatives, and he’d shut her down every time without fail.
All my life, I’d heard stories about their great love story, how the great Grant Phillips had come to town, invested an obscene amount of money into Watford’s infrastructure, and gave the town the push it needed to become the bustling small town it is today. He swept Carmen off her feet; or so they told me. She was head over heels for him. But neither one of them were cut out to be parents in the way the three of us needed.
“I’m sorry,” Carmen repeated, reaching for my hand. I jerked away, ashamed to find that tears were stinging my eyes.
“You keep saying that. But you can’t actually believe that showing back up in Watford unannounced and saying ‘I’m sorry’ without any meaning is going to help us have a relationship,” I said. It took everything in me not to let my face fall and to keep my expression neutral.
I silently chided myself for letting myself get wrapped up in the delusional idea that Cassie had been right. Somehow, I’d been willing to let bygones be bygones, if my mother could produce even a scrap of evidence that she’d done the internal work to heal our relationship.
Hell, when I’d walked in and seen her sitting at this booth by herself, looking so painfully out of place in a town she used to know so well, I had pity for her.
It was all an act. Just like it always was. This little tour she was doing with her children wasn’t about us at all. It wasn’t about celebrating our accomplishments or fixing the mistakes of the past.
It was about drumming up sympathy points among the people she hurt the most.
My father might have given my mother the life she always dreamed of as a small town girl—the fancy galas, and more money than she could ever hope to earn on her own as an actress. She’d thrown all of her dreams out the window in exchange for security in a man who had swept through town when she was barely nineteen. She’d become what he wanted, and left everything else behind.
My Nana had been heartbroken. Carmen’s decision to leave Watford had devastated her, and yet she’d stepped up to takecare of her grandkids when my mother decided the Los Angeles spotlight wasn’t something she wanted for her children.
Watford was a safe place for us, but not for our mother. Watford was good enough for us, but not for her. My Nana had never gotten over it, even though she put everything she had into ensuring we had a beautiful childhood. Our mother visited every month, but never for long, always citing a new initiative or opportunity.
“Do you know why Kevin stayed in Watford when you left for L.A.?” I asked quietly.
Carmen shook her head. “I assumed it was because he wanted to tie up loose ends. I figured the two of you would say your goodbyes.”
“It’s because he finally had the chance to breathe without you and Dad breathing down his neck,” I snapped. “It was because he was exhausted, being your prized show horse. The two of you only ever saw him as your male heir, like it’s not the 21st fucking century where people don’t give a crap who takes over the family business.”
“Don’t speak to me like that,” Carmen said sternly, shoving a finger in my face. “I’m taking a lot from you right now, Imogen, hoping we can work past this.”
“Did you and Cassie have a conversation about how difficult it is to grow up biracial in a small town?” I said. As much as I didn’t want to bring this up with her, I needed to. I needed her to hear it from me.
“We were raised in a small town that is predominately White, and ourparents’actions actively prevented us from being in touch with our Black relatives. We were raised almostentirely in White spaces, and as much as Nana loved and cared for us, we were kids who deserved to know our family. Ourentirefamily. Do you even have a concept of what that was like for us?”
Carmen’s face fell. For once, she had nothing to say.
Whatever was left of my resolve dissipated.
There was no salvaging this.
“I’m leaving,” I said, sliding my coffee mug towards the center of the table and rising to stand. “I’m done with this.”
“Imogen, don’t walk away from me,” Carmen said, snagging my wrist when I tried to walk by.
I snatched my arm back.
“What?” I said, exasperated.
“I heard you’re selling the farmhouse.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I looked back to my mother, unsure of what she would say next.
“I am,” I said. “It’s time for me to head down a new path.”
“Hm.”
Carmen’s distaste was palpable, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
My grandmother had been more of a mother to me than Carmen was. She had given me the farmhouse because she knew out of everyone, I was the most likely to need it. I had needed it, but I had also cherished it. I cherished my memories with her and with my friends within those four walls.
