Page 94 of Check the Halls
A smile lights up her face. “So youareback together?”
“Seriously, Mom? That’s what you’re focusing on?”
“Well, you’ve both been so vague about your relationship since I arrived! I read online that you young people don’t use labels anymore, so I didn’t want to ask. I thought, maybe, you were just sleeping together.”
“Mother!” I bury my face in my hands, briefly regretting surviving my surgery.
“Darling,” my mother tuts. “You weren’t very good at pretending you weren’t having sex with Ben when you were a teenager, and I regret to inform you that you haven’t gotten any better at it with age.” She reaches across the table and grabs one of my hands that is stillcovering my face. “Now. Did you really think I’d be disappointed in you for calling off the wedding?”
“Well…yes. I thought you liked Derek.”
Her slender shoulders rise and fall. “I do. I don’t like him for you,but I like him well enough.”
I blink, thrown. “But…but you weresohappy when we started dating,” I sputter. “You were practically floating on air.”
“I was happy because after six years of doing nothing but studying and working, my daughter was finally going outside. Talking to people. Laughing again.”
“Then why didn’t you say something when we got engaged?”
She sighs and looks away. “I didn’t want to interfere. You told me you were happy, and I wanted to believe you. But the truth is, sweetie,” her voice lowers, “I’ve always felt like I was to blame for you and Ben breaking up all those years ago.”
My chest tightens. “What? Mom, why would you feel that way?”
She swallows and when her gaze finds me it’s soft and glassy. “After we lost your dad…I wasn’t myself. I could barely function, let alone take care of you. I leaned on you far more than I should have. You were only nineteen, and I made you feel responsible for me.”
As she talks I get the feeling these words have been sitting inside her for years, waiting for permission to be said.
“When Ben wanted you to move to Philadelphia, I should’ve encouraged you to go. I should’ve told you to fight for what you had with him. But the thought of losing you—of having you so far away, so soon after your fatherdied—” Her voice breaks, just slightly, taking my heart right along with it. A hot tear slips down my cheek.
“When you told me it was over, I let myself believe it was for the best. I was proud of you for focusing on school, for chasing the career you always dreamed of. But deep down, I was just relieved you stayed. I didn’t want you to end up like me.”
The pain I feel at my core has nothing to do with my recovery. “Why?”
She draws in a shaky breath. “I left university when I got pregnant with you. I always meant to go back once you started kindergarten, but then your grandmother got sick and I became her caretaker. And then I kept telling myself it was too late. That life had made its choice for me. Your dad had a thriving career and was proud to provide for us. He was happy. But when he died…” She pauses, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I realized I had nothing that wasmine.No career, no safety net.”
Her voice is soft but sure when she adds, “I didn’t want you to ever rely on someone the way I had to rely on your father. I wanted you to stand on your own.And when I saw how you threw yourself into your studies after Ben left, I told myself it was because you were stronger than I was.”
She draws a breath that trembles. “But maybe…if I’d been more supportive, if I’d pushed past my fear instead of letting it shape yours, maybe you would’ve found a way to make it work.”
I’ve been having that same conversation in my head since the moment Ben and I decided to try again.
What if I’d gone to Philadelphia?
What if we’d tried long-distance?
What if I hadn’t given up so easily?
What if? What if? What if?
“I think,” I run my fingers through my damp hair. “I think everything happened like it was supposed to. We were so young when we fell in love and as much as it hurt when we broke up, I think it needed to happen. We were both able to focus on what we needed to at the time. I think if we tried to do that and be a couple, we wouldn’t have been able to be what the other needed and we would have wound up resenting one another.”
“And now?”
“And now I don’t know. He makes me so happy, Mom. Like, stupidly happy. And when I picture the future I want, he’s in it. Front and center.”
“But…”
“But what if it doesn’t work out?”
