Page 3 of Spyder
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t need you here, honey. I’ve got nurses and others who look after me,” she argues.
“Strangers shouldn’t be looking after you, Mom. That’s my job.”
A sorrowful look crosses her face and I know what she’s thinking. It’s true that I’d built a life for myself out in Colorado. I was a well-respected teacher, was working on becoming a homeowner, and had been dating. Nothing serious, but I’d been slowly working on opening myself up enough to the possibility of love—something I wasn’t sure was possible in my life.
But when I got the call telling me my mother had ovarian cancer, I gave it all up and returned to Blue Rock Bay—something I told myself I’d never do, once upon a time. Don’t get me wrong, Blue Rock is a nice city. It’s a great place to live, to raise a family, and build a life. It’s just too small and confining to my liking.
Having spent the first eighteen years of my life here, I was hungry to see more of the world. And so, I traveled for a year after high school—mostly through Europe—then took the academic scholarship I was offered to go to the University of Colorado. I got my bachelor’s, master’s, and teaching certificate from Colorado, then went to work there. Built my life there.
“I am glad to have you here, honey. It’s so good to see you,” she says.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I tell her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back for your birthday. I wanted to, but I couldn’t get it worked out.”
“Oh, that’s all right, sweetheart. I was happy enough that you did the video conference thing with me,” she tells me, which somehow adds another layer of guilt to the heap I was already feeling.
“Well, we won’t have to worry about it now, since—”
“Since I might not make it to my next birthday,” she says with a cackle.
“Mom! You are awful,” I say, unable to help myself from laughing along with her despite myself.
“That I am,” she replies. “And even though I hate that you gave up your life in Colorado to be here with me, I’m glad you’re here all the same.”
“Me too, Mom.”
A soft knock on the bedroom door draws my attention and I turn to see Nurse Ranovich, my mom’s day nurse, standing there.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s time for me to give your mother her medication and a bath,” she says, her voice slightly colored by an Eastern European accent.
“Of course. I’ll see you for dinner then?” I ask.
“Looking forward to it, honey.”
I walk out of my mom’s room to let Nurse Ranovich do her thing and head upstairs to my room. I sit down in the chair at my old desk and spin around, taking it all in. The countless memories of this place come flooding back as I soak it all in. Of all the places in the world I thought I’d end up, back in my old room in Blue Rock would have been last on the list.
It’s not that I was unhappy here. In fact, I had a happier childhood than most people I knew. My parents loved and doted on me, and though we didn’t have the kind of money some of the other kids I grew up with did, we were comfortable enough. But then, my dad had a heart attack and died in my sophomore year in high school and my entire world was turned upside down.
The shame fills me as I think back to those days after my father died. I was so caught up in my own grief that I never stopped to think about how my mom felt. He was the love of her life and she was so happy. I guess I never stopped to think about the hole that had been ripped in her heart when he passed. Having never had a soulmate myself, her grief was different than mine and it never occurred to me that she might be hurting every bit as much as I was.
After my father passed, I acted out. I lashed out. And it pains me to remember what a horrible little bitch I was to her. It was then that I decided I needed to get out of Blue Rock. I remember vowing to myself that once I got out, I’d never come back. The happy little bubble of childhood I’d lived in had burst and I wanted nothing more than to put the grief and the anger I felt at having my father taken away from me so unjustly in the rearview mirror and never look back.
Of course, once I got to school out in Colorado, I started missing my mom and our home. Not enough to go back, but having been away for a while, and learning to cope with my own grief through my own therapy, I was able to let go of a lot of the anger inside of me, recognizing it as a childish response.
So, I was finally able to bury my pride and call her. And I’m glad I did. We spent some time together and grew as close as we used to be. Closer perhaps. Even though I was living in Colorado and building my life there, my mom was genuinely happy for me, and it didn’t diminish the bond that had been rebuilt between us. Which made getting that phone call feel like an absolute punch in the gut.
I’m not ready to let go of my mom. I’m not ready to say goodbye. And it makes me kick myself again and again whenever I think about all the time that I wasted being a petulant little girl. Knowing I wasted years being mad and keeping her at an arm’s distance is a regret I am going to live with for the rest of my life. I have no idea how much time she has left—not even her doctors can say with any real certainty—so all I can do now is try to make up for the time I lost because I’m an idiot, by cherishing every last second that I have with her. And that’s what I plan on doing.
Getting to my feet, I grab my bags and throw them on the bed, then start to unpack, placing all of my clothes in my old dresser and closet. Literally nothing has changed in this room. All of my old things are right where I left them. It’s as if my mom hermetically sealed my room like a time capsule.
After getting all of my clothes put away, I decide to leave the boxes for later. And since I’m here for the long haul, I’m also going to have to make arrangements to have all of my other things currently filling my mom’s garage sent to storage. But that’s all going to have to wait since I have an appointment to keep.
Chapter Three
Bellamy
“It is so good to see you again, Bell. I am so happy you’re back,” Ruby says as she pulls me into a tight, rib-cracking embrace.
“Thanks, Rube. It’s great to see you, too,” I gasp.
