Page 62 of Severed Heart
I drop my own eyes, hating myself a little for the tears I’m causing.
“Look at me,” she snaps, “you wanted to hurt me, so look at it and be satisfied.”
I do, and the guilt intensifies.
“Feel better?” she asks.
“No, Mom, shit.” I palm my jaw. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeat, barely above a whisper. “I’m just in a messed-up place lately.”
“And I don’t blame you for it, but I promise you that I’m not immune to it, and I didn’t think this needed explaining becauseyou areworlds above average in deciphering things like this. So, I didn’t see the point in spelling it out.”
Perceptive, that’s another.
“I just don’t understand why you won’t divorce him and give yourself a second chance at a better life.”
“Heis my life, as are you. The life I chose and won’t quit during hard times and time is what he needs. What may heal him and the amount is subjective. This can’t be rushed.”
“You truly believe that?”
“Yes, but do you really want me to give up on him?”
“I want you to putyourselffirst,” I grit out. Wishing to give some of the same brand of brutal truth to the woman who’s starting to destroy my willpower.
“When he’s spent the majority of his life putting others first? Especially us?” she counters.
“I don’t see it that way.”
“Because you don’t want to. When he wasn’t deployed and before that godforsaken career got the best of him, he was present for you. Deny it all you want, but that doesn’t make it true. That’s why this is hurting you so much.” She sighs. “I refuse to forget that and the husband he was to me. You don’t just leave someone you’ve spent half your life with because they’re going through a dark period. That’s not what you do. At least, that’s not what I’m going to do.”
She holds up a defensive palm, cutting me off. “But I also know I’m tolerating too much. I’m at the end of my rope, but I’m hanging on for him. Before his last deployment, I asked for one thing—for him to come back alive. Not to be the man I married, just to come home, and I swore to myself that I would help him through the worst of it. He fulfilled his end, and so I’m going to see my end of that deal through.”
Ignorance for want. Loyalty to a fault. This is getting fucking scary.
“He’s done nothing but cause you pain. Carter is gone, Mom,” I say for the last time, knowing this argument—like our last—is pointless.
“No, baby, he’s not. He just needs more time.”
Slamming my own palms on the counter, I shake my head. “I can’t do this.”
Temper—definitely from Dad.
“I assumed as much, and that’s why I won’t talk to you about it. You’re too angry to see the pain he’s in, let alone anything else.”
“I don’t care about the pain he’s in!” I rebuke. “I care about yours.”
Chest rising and falling, she turns and stills before pumping some soap and rinsing her hands in the sink.
“Is it true?” I ask her back, knowing that I could never pose this question face to face. “Did you stop being intimate with him ... because he got burned?”
“How did you . . .” She turns to gape at me before wiping her hands on a towel. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is. Explain it to me.”
“That’s private.”
“No topic is off the table. Your words. That’s what youinstilledin me since I was a kid.”
“Maybe, but that’s too personal and for your father and me to work out,” she bites defensively, “but do you want to know why I won’t give up?”
