Unapologetically Me

Fifty Eight

The days dragged slowly after Spring Break. I focused on myself and my body and getting my routines right. I focused on getting my mom to all of her appointments and getting groceries and doing laundry and cooking, even though I sucked at it.

Anything and everything to keep myself busy.

May rolled around and I was on my way to the club gym when my mom stopped me. She had been acting kind of strange since I came back from Spring Break, wandering the house aimlessly and muttering to herself. She had lost weight, but remained bloated in her stomach and legs. She showered when I'd force her in and most of the time she just seemed out of it.

I wondered a lot of her medications had something to do with it, but I never really put too much thought into it.

Now, staring at her face, I saw some light in her eyes that had been missing for a while. Her body fingers dug into my arm as she clung to me and I noticed that the wrinkles in her face were more pronounced than ever.

"Can I talk to you?"

We never talked. I mean, we said a few things to each other daily, meaningless things, but never a full blown conversation. It was strange that she wanted to talk, but I didn't dismiss her like I usually would have. Something about the look in her eyes told me it was important, so I dropped my gym bag by the door and nodded.

"Sure. What's up?"

She smiled, relieved and sat down on the couch, patting the spot next to her. I sat down slowly, watching her.

Her throat bobbed for a few minutes as she studied my face and finally she opened her mouth.

"I don't think we've ever had a conversation before." She said quietly. She frowned and looked away from my face. "At least not one where we're not at each other's throats."

"Yeah, I know."

"It's my fault for that. I know that. I'm not easy to get along with and I have been...I've been a horrible mother to you. Not just recently but...your whole life."

Sh*t. I swallowed but I didn't say anything. I didn't think I was ready to have this type of conversation. But I took a deep breath and waited. She pushed her greasy hair back out of her face and turned on the couch so that her whole body was facing me.

"You...I had a son. When I was twenty five, your father and I weren't trying or anything at that point, but I got pregnant, for the first time, with your brother." I raised my eyebrows.

I knew of all of her miscarriages, but never heard of a brother. "His name was Gabriel. When I was pregnant with him, I was so excited and happy and your father was too. It was so long ago, but I still remember feeling that joy, you know? I was finally going to become a mother."

I grit my teeth but nodded. "Near the middle of my pregnancy we learned that he had a bad heart. They asked if we wanted to abort so there wouldn't be any complications or any of that, but I didn't want to. Your dad didn't either. They tried to reason with us, telling us that he would need surgery, that he might not survive, but I kept him."

She took a deep, shaky breath and I could tell from the look in her eyes that she was back in time, reliving it all. I shuddered to think of reliving the time I was pregnant.

"And when he was born, he was the most beautiful boy I had ever laid eyes on. He had the silkiest blonde hair and most beautiful little fingers and toes." Her voice cracked and tears sprung to her eyes.

"He was taken from me almost immediately to go to the NICU, but I was there almost every day for a week, staring at him through the little box he was put in. He had all of these wires and such attached to him. It was horrible, but he was mine. My sweet baby boy."

She wiped her eyes and took my hands in hers. They cold and soft and I held onto them, trying to warm them up with mine.

"He died on day eight and it shattered my heart. I...it broke me. I don't remember too much after that but I know that your father and I had some unspoken agreement that we would try again. I didn't want to at first, but I couldn't stop thinking about him."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Year after year, miscarriage after miscarriage, we tried until I turned thirty. After all of the heartbreak, I couldn't do it anymore. I didn't want to. So we stopped after our last one." She took a deep shuddering breath.

"Years passed and I learned to live with the thought that I'd never have children of my own. It wasn't until I got pregnant with you that stuff changed. Not me. I didn't. But my thoughts surrounding having children of my own did."

I looked at her pained face and she looked up at me with teary, blue eyes. They looked at me pleadingly and I didn't know what to say or do.

"I didn't want you. I continued to drink and smoke and do what I did as if I wasn't pregnant. I missed almost all of your appointments and your father was so angry at me. He hated me because he thought I was trying to kill you, but he didn't understand. He didn't understand that I had no hope that you'd survive."

I shook my head, beginning to feel angry. "I didn't let myself get attached to you while you were inside me because I had gone through heartbreak after heartbreak and I was determined not to go through it again. So when you were born, a perfect, healthy little girl, I hated you."

I raised my eyebrows and felt my chest constrict. Tears burned in my eyes. I knew it. I knew it all along that she never wanted me.

"I hated you. I couldn't make myself get attached to you, even when they told me that you were healthy. Even as you grew up and ran and played with your dolls, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I kept waiting for the disappointment."

She sniffled and grabbed onto my hands tighter.

"And when I finally realized nothing was going to happen to you, that I could finally let myself love you, it was too late. You hated me. You preferred your father over me. You asked him for everything, did everything with him and I began to hate myself. "

"So I didn't try. I didn't go to any of your events or did anything with you because I messed up. I didn't think you'd want me around because you never asked. You always just went to him and I finally just got used to it. I watched you grow up and become the beautiful person you are today and I feel so much regret." She wiped her nose with her arm and kept holding of my hands tightly.

"When your father died, I was scared. I was so scared because I knew that we would be alone, together. I didn't know how to be your mom. I still don't. And I have made many bad choices. I...I don't know how I could ever make it up to you and...I wanted you to know that I do love you. I love you with all of my heart and I've never been able to show you because I never knew how. I hate that I pushed you away and I hate that I'm a burden to you, even now."

I wipe my cheeks on my shoulder. "I love you too mom. I-I don't know...I...you're right. I never knew how to love you either. I never figured out why you always acted the way you did, but I wish you had tried harder. Because I needed you. I needed you so f*cking badly growing up and I wished you were there for me. I...I always looked for you up in the stands when I was dancing or cheerleading. I always looked for you, but you were never there."

"I know, Kelly. I know, and I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry. I look back on the time I've had with you and I...it's eating me alive. I wish I was a better mother to you, Kelly. I really do."

I smile at her and take my hand out of hers and caress her cheek. Her skin feels papery thin and it scares me. My mom has always been older than the other mothers, but now I'm seeing it. I'm seeing just how much older she is and it scares me.

"I'm sorry about Gabriel." I tell her quietly. She smiles sadly and nods.

"And I'm sorry about yours.". I look at her and raise my eyebrows.

"What?"

"Your baby. Your daughter."

I take a deep breath and stare at her. "H-How did you know?"

"Your uncle told me while I was in jail. I-I didn't know how to bring it up to you after I got out, because I...I knew how you felt. I saw that you were happy and decided to leave it alone, but...I have wanted to tell you that I'm sorry that happened to you and that I couldn't be there for you."

And that's when I broke down. I fell into her thin arms and she held me as I cried. I don't know how long it was but afterwards, I felt so much lighter. I felt better and I hugged her tightly.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Kelly. It's something I should have done a long time ago."

I smile at her and nod. We spent the rest of the day watching TV together, talking about lighter stuff until it's time for me to go to work.

When I go to leave, my mom stops me and looks up into my face. She studies me again, like she did this afternoon and gives me a small kiss on the cheek.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I went to work and I thought about everything that happened that day. It felt like a breakthrough with my mom and I started thinking of different things we could do together during the day, to get our much needed time together. I needed to get as much as I could in before she passed. Because I knew it would be soon. The way she was looking today made me worried that we weren't going to get much more time. But I was determined to spend as much time with her as I could.

After work, I checked in on mom at her doorway, seeing her fast asleep in her bedroom. I shut off her light and go to bed.

The next morning I wake up and shower, get dressed and start working on breakfast. Usually, my mom is already up at this time, wandering around, with the TV on in the background, but this morning she's not. So after I make breakfast, I knock on her bedroom door softly and open the door.

She's still laying in bed, in the same position she was in the night before. I move into the room slowly and touch her shoulder.

"Mom." I shake her slightly and look down at her face. I touch it and pull my hand back at how cold her skin is. My heart thunders in my chest and I shake her again.

"Mom. Wake up!"

I'm shaking and I start looking around the bedroom and see a needle, a spoon and some black stuff on the bedside table. I look down at it and feel my blood run cold. I don't know what it is, but I know it's not medicine. I have her medicine. I give her her shots and pills. This isn't...I run from the room to get my phone and I call the ambulance.

I can't stop shaking as I wait, not even able to go back into her bedroom, afraid.

When they get there and go into her room, I wait at the doorway until an EMT comes out and looks at me with sad eyes. And I know. I know what happened.

"She killed herself?"

The EMT's eyes give me all of the confirmation I need and I feel myself withdraw into myself even more.