Page 95 of Love You
Chapter Twenty-One
Geneva was driving Darcy crazy, bossing around the nurses, asking every five seconds if she’d called Lewis, and generally being a pain in the ass. Darcy didn’t know what was taking her father so long to get to the hospital but maybe it wasn’t so terrible. Geneva was already on a tear about “your cheating father” and his “tramp girlfriend.” It was probably better to keep them apart for as long as possible.
Win had gone home to get her clothes, figuring she’d be in Sacramento for a while. In her wildest dreams, she never would’ve expected him to be the person she’d lean on in a crisis.
Win was the guy you called for fun, not to make life-or-death decisions. Yet, that had been exactly what he’d done. When she’d been paralyzed with fear over Nana’s care, he’d come to the rescue.Reliable,empathetic,thoughtfulwere not usually the words that people used to describe Win but he’d been all those things for her.
“Let’s go to the cafeteria,” Geneva said. “It’s not like we’re doing any good here.”
The nurse had brought in a few chairs and Darcy had been sitting next to Nana like a mother hen, waiting for her vital signs to improve.
“All right.” It was late and the food service was probably closed but they could get a cup of coffee.
They went down the elevator and found a mostly empty cafeteria with only one person at the cash register and as she’d predicted the kitchen was closed. Darcy grabbed a cup of coffee and perused the cases of prepackaged foods, grabbing a bag of Oreos.
“You really don’t need that, Darcy.” Geneva took the package of cookies out of her hand.
Normally passive when it came to Geneva’s demands, Darcy lost it. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast, Mother. And if I want to stuff my face with cookies it’s my damned right.”
“You don’t have to get testy about it.” Geneva eyed Darcy’s shorts and polo shirt. “I’m only trying to look out for you . . . for your figure.”
“I don’t need anyone to look out for my figure, my figure is just fine. Better than fine. Nana could well be dying. The last thing I care about right now is how I look.” She snatched the cookies back, tore open a package of crumb cakes, and shoved one in her mouth just to be spiteful. The only thing Geneva hated more than Darcy eating junk food was people who ate their groceries in the store without paying for them first. She thought it wasuncouth.
Well, Darcy thought Geneva was uncouth.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology took Darcy aback. She hadn’t even known the words existed in Geneva’s vocabulary.
“We’re both under stress,” Darcy said, though Geneva’s criticism was standard operating procedure.
“Yes. But I shouldn’t tell you how to eat. It’s awful.”
Another shock for the ages. Her first impulse was to tell Geneva it was fine, that Darcy wasn’t insulted, but she was sick to death of being passive-aggressive. “You’re right, it is. It’s also hurtful and has given me a life-long complex.”
Geneva looked away but not before Darcy saw tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry for that as well. Apparently, my preoccupation with perfection lost me a family.”
Darcy wasn’t sure if her mother was playing martyr. “You haven’t lost me, Mother.”
“I’ve lost your father.”
Darcy started to say this wasn’t the time for Geneva to whine about her pending divorce. Nana was hanging on by a thread and today wasn’t about Geneva. But Darcy noticed a shadow of desolation pass over her mother’s face that was so poignant it made her stop.
She wiped an empty table with a handful of napkins and told her mother to sit. “Are you okay?”
There was a long pause, then Geneva cleared her throat. “I should’ve been better to you . . . to Max . . . to Hilde. And now it’s too late.”
“It’s not too late for me, Mother,” Darcy whispered because she was having trouble finding her voice. “I’m still here . . . I’m still with you.”
Geneva teared up. “I was the last person you called when Hilde had to be rushed to the hospital. I’m your mother and yet I was the last person you called.”
“You were second because Dad’s her son,” Darcy argued. But her mother was right. She’d called Geneva out of obligation, not because she thought her mother would lend her moral support or a shoulder to cry on.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. You love me, Darcy, because I’m your mother. But you don’t like me. And I can’t say I blame you. Since Max left I’ve been taking a hard look at myself and there’s not a lot to like.”
Her mother spoke the truth so Darcy did too. “There could be, you just need to stop being so critical. Do you know what it’s like to never be able to live up to your mother’s expectations? To never be good enough? To never be beautiful enough or smart enough, or successful enough?” Darcy closed her eyes. “It’s crushing. It’s scarring. It’s . . . heartbreaking.” She turned away so her mother wouldn’t see the stream of tears running down her face.
Geneva reached across the table and touched her arm. “I just wanted you to reach your full potential. Don’t you see, I only had your best interests in mind?”
