Page 104 of The Affair
“You look good, Mom,” I said as we entered the kitchen.
It was gleaming and new. Bright white cabinets lined the walls while marble covered basically everything else. It screamed money and excess, something I’d never associated with my mom but she seemed at home nonetheless.
“Thank you,” she answered, moving about the kitchen with ease as she prepared our coffee in my brother’s fancy coffeemaker.
“Are you happy?”
She turned to me, her eyes brighter than they’d been in years. “I am,” she answered. “It’s a different kind of happiness without your father, but it feels good to be needed. Being here gives me purpose, and I didn’t know how much I needed that in my life.”
“But you had purpose, Mom. The store—”
“Wasn’t mine anymore,” she finished.
“What do you mean? Of course it was yours.”
“It was something I realized shortly after your father’s funeral. Returning didn’t feel the same. I wasn’t the same. I watched you supervise the arrival of that new inventory, admiring how well you’d done, and it hit me—I didn’t belong there anymore.”
“Mom,” I began, but she quickly stopped me.
“And I was happy to walk away.”
“But it was your life.”
She shook her head. “It was part of my life—one I loved dearly. But life changes. Priorities change. People change.”
“And this was the change you needed?” I asked.
She sat down beside me as the coffee percolated in the background. “I think so.”
“I guess I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me. Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”
Taking my hand, she squeezed it between her own. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I think, in the beginning, it was just an idea—something your brother and I talked about in the hypothetical. But then, when your dad started to reach the end of his life, I knew I wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces after he was gone.”
“You wouldn’t have had to. I was there.”
She smiled. “You were. You always were. And that’s what finally made up my mind—the fact that I knew if I stayed, your life would always revolve around mine, and I didn’t want that. I never wanted to be a burden to you.”
“You were never a burden,” I argued. “If anything, I was yours.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“My marriage exploded, and I moved home when you were just starting to deal with Daddy’s cancer. Helping out was the only way I could show my gratitude.”
“Yes, maybe that was your intention at first. But I think, in time, we became your distraction. Your crutch. You hid behind your duties to us rather than trying to move on after Reed.”
“I was happy to do it.”
“I know dear, which is exactly why I had to go. You would have been happy with taking care of me for the rest of my days, and then what?”
“I…” I had no answer.
“You needed the push.”
“So, you gave me the store and the house. But why didn’t you call?”
It was the one question I’d wanted to ask more than anything. Why had she abandoned me?
“I knew you were angry when I left. I knew you were hurt, but I also knew you needed time. Time away from me. Time to face everything you’d been avoiding and time to finally move on.”
