Turn My World Around

Chapter 2-2

Exhaustion dogged Corinne’s steps as she slipped quietly into her mother’s house after ten that night. Automatically, she avoided the third and eighth steps as she went up for bed, knowing the old wood would creak beneath her weight. That skill had been mastered well before she’d finished high school, back when she’d ruled the school, before the Universe had proved she’d been a big fish in a microscopic pond. One easily chewed up and spat back out.

Quiet as she could, she opened Kurt’s door and looked in on him. In the glow of the firetruck night light, she could see the crescent of his dark lashes closed in sleep. His limbs stuck out at all angles in a forest of stuffed animals, with the stuffed Chewbacca doll tucked tight in one arm. For long minutes, she stood in the doorway watching him, her heart aching. She hadn’t seen him at all today—gone before he woke, back after he’d gone to bed. There’d been far too many of those days in the past several months.

It’s not forever, baby boy. I swear it.

A door opened down the hall. Corinne held in a wince. No luck sneaking in tonight. Shutting Kurt’s door, she turned toward her mother. Marianne Dawson stood in a silky, floral robe, arms folded, annoyance etched on her face. It was her default expression these days.

“Hey Mama.”

“You’re home late.”

Corinne didn’t bring up the fact that she’d already reminded her mom that she’d be working a full shift at the diner after winding up at the hospital. “I know. I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“I was watching The Tonight Show. Julia Roberts was on talking about that new movie of hers.”

Corinne made a noncommittal noise. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been to a movie. That kind of frivolity called for money and time she didn’t have. Though she had been planning to take Kurt to the next big animated flick now that he’d settled down enough to sit all the way through one.

“How was Kurt today?”

Her mother grunted and moved past her, toward the stairs. “Come sit with me while I have some tea, and I’ll tell you.”

All Corinne wanted was a horizontal surface for longer than a span of six hours, but she dutifully followed to the kitchen. She was more starved for news of her son than she was for sleep.

Because it gave her something to do with her hands, and therefore kept her vertical and conscious, Corinne took the kettle from her mom’s hand. “Why don’t you let me do that?”

As she filled it, set it on the burner, Marianne sat at the kitchen table. “We did our school shopping today.”

Corinne’s hand froze with a mug halfway to the counter. “What?”

“Went ahead and got all the supplies and some new school clothes.”

Corinne choked back the bitter words wanting to spill out. Her baby was starting kindergarten in a few weeks. She’d been looking forward to taking him shopping. To letting him pick out his backpack and lunch box. He wanted Star Wars everything. Did her mother know that?

“I was going to take him next week.”

“Didn’t figure you’d have time. You’ve hardly seen him the last few months.”

The guilt stabbed deeper, made her want to lash out. But she bit back the impulse. “I know. And I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, while I juggled school and work and my hours at the hospital. I really appreciate all your help, Mama.” Corinne did her best to inject as much legitimate gratitude into the statement as she could. Because for all her faults, her mother had been there for her when Corinne had come crawling home.

“Wouldn’t be having to do all this if you’d finished school the first time instead of going off and marrying that man.”

That man. Lance Lindau. Bane of her existence and the worst mistake she’d ever made. Except he’d given her Kurt, and she could never, ever regret that. He was the best part of her world, and she’d become a better person because of him.

Corinne could have reminded Marianne that she’d been in favor of the marriage at the time. That she’d seen Lance’s money and position and thought her daughter had made a smart match. She hadn’t changed her tune until Corinne had ended it. And then only after considerable effort was made to place the blame for the disaster of a marriage squarely on her daughter’s shoulders.

“You’re right,” Corinne said, because agreeing with her mother was the quickest way to end this conversation. Ending it was the only viable option. There was no winning an argument with Marianne Dawson. “But I can’t change the past. I’m working really hard to give Kurt a better future. I’m done with clinicals and school. I’ll have more time now that I’m down to the diner. Once I pass my licensure exam, I’ll start applying for nursing jobs.”

Marianne shook her head sadly. “You could’ve been so much more, Corinne. All that promise, all that momentum you built in high school, just thrown away.”

And this, this was the price she paid for her mother’s help. A perpetual recitation of her failings—which were many. Corinne said nothing, wishing desperately for a cigarette and the quick hit of nicotine to dull the edge of anxiety. After almost a year without them, these conversations with her mother always brought the craving roaring back.

She’d learned long ago that there was no meeting her mother’s expectations. Her father had finally conceded that a few years before and divorced Marianne. He’d since remarried and moved to Florida. When her own marriage had fallen apart, he’d made it clear she and her son wouldn’t be welcome additions to his new life for longer than a brief visit. So she’d taken the only option she’d had, returning to the house she’d married young to escape.

Hand trembling, Corinne poured boiling water over the teabag. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.” Setting the mug on the table, she straightened. “Thank you for all your help with Kurt. I need to get to bed.”

As she climbed the stairs again, hitting both the third and eighth steps this time, Corinne wrapped an arm around her middle and wondered that words could hurt just as badly as fists.