She nods, dabbing at her moist brow again. “Thank you, honey. You take such good care of me. Katie, too. You’ll make a wonderful mother one day.”
I scoff. “I don’t know about that, Mom. You could be waiting a long time before you get any grandchildren out of me.”
I balk at the idea, mainly because it’s never seemed further out of reach. I thought Daniel might finally be someone I could see in my life for the long term, someone steady and reliable. Someone I could trust with my heart and my future.
Now, I’m not even sure I could trust him with my car keys.
My mom stares at me with a tender look in her eyes when I return with her refilled glass. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better mother to you and your sister. I think about it so often, you know? All the things I could’ve done differently. All the times I should’ve been stronger—for you girls, if not for myself.”
“No, Mom. Don’t blame yourself for anything that happened. You did the best you could for us. I know that. I think Jen knew it, too.”
She glances down, her brow furrowed. It takes her a long moment before she speaks. When she does, her voice is small. “You don’t know how often I prayed for your father to finally kill himself. I should have packed up you girls and taken you as far away as I could instead of wishing for God to save us. I didn’t have enough money for us to leave. No family to help us, or give us somewhere to stay. I couldn’t bear the thought of raising you girls in a shelter somewhere, or worse, on the streets.”
I reach out to her, gently laying my hand over her frail, trembling fingers. Her skin is cool, almost cold, beneath mine. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” She lifts her head, an almost palpable remorse written in every line of her face. “I should have protected you and Jennifer, whatever it took. Instead I just prayed for a miracle to save us. I prayed for him to die that night, Mellie.”
She doesn’t have to say anything more than that. I close my eyes, hearing the screams that filled the car. Feeling the sudden crash of impact, the horrible roar of twisting metal and breaking glass.
“I didn’t realize he could be capable of that kind of evil,” she murmurs. “If I had, I would’ve killed him myself.”
“No one could’ve known what he meant to do, Mom.”
“I should have.” She breaks down, letting go of a jagged sob. “I didn’t realize the price of my prayers for him to die would nearly cost me both of you girls, too. Or that eventually, God would answer my failures as a mother a few years later by taking Jen away from me.”
“Oh, Mom, no.” I pull the chair next to her a bit closer so I can sit beside her. “Is that what you think? You didn’t cause Jen’s overdose. She did that to herself.”
I clasp her hand with both of mine and hold it tight as a tear rolls down her cheek. I had no idea she’s been harboring this kind of guilt, not only for my alcoholic father’s abuse of us all and his heinous final act, but for my troubled sister’s long slide into addiction and the accidental overdose that ended her life.
We tried to help her turn her life around. Jen’s doctors and therapists tried to help her. Not even the birth of Katie was enough to give her the strength and willpower required to battle her addiction. Jen was gone by the time her daughter was barely two years old.
“None of it was your fault, Mom. Don’t ever think that.” I let go of her hand and gather her close, trying not to notice how fragile she feels in my arms. “Jen would never blame you. I think she’d be devastated to know you feel this way about what happened to her.”
“I wish I could’ve saved her, Mellie.” Her tears wet my shoulder. Her voice is quiet, choked with emotion. “I wish I could’ve been the kind of mother you both deserved. A strong woman. A brave one.”
“You are.” I ease back from her, if only so she can see my face and know I mean what I’m saying. “You’re all those things to me. To Katie, too. I can’t imagine taking care of her without you, Mom.”
She gives me a watery smile. “Oh, honey. You’re my joy, you know that? That precious little girl upstairs is all my hopes for what Jennifer might have been, but you’re my heart.”
“Are you trying to make me cry now, too?”
She giggles around a wet sniffle, bringing her hand up to cradle the side of my face. “I love you, my sweet Mellie-Belle.”
She hasn’t called me that since I was Katie’s age. Hearing it now is the balm I need after the way my world has seemed to tilt on its axis these past several days. “I love you, too, Mom.”
She pats my cheek, then settles back against her chair on a sigh. Her eyes are still moist, her skin a bit too sallow for my peace of mind. “Do you suppose I have time for a quick nap before I help you with dinner, sweetheart?”
“Sure. If you like, I’ll wake you when we’re ready to eat.”
“Oh, that’d be nice. Thank you, Melanie.” She takes her time standing up, using the edge of the table for balance. When I move to assist, she shakes her head. “I’m fine, I’m fine. All that fresh air today’s making me sleepy, that’s all.”
As if to reassure me, she straightens and carries her empty glass to the sink. I’d like to believe it’s only a day spent outdoors that’s got her looking so exhausted, but I can’t shake the
