“I’m sorry if I upset you, I just don’t understand your loyalty to her.”
I spun around and leaned against the counter. Crossing my arms over my chest, I spoke. “Have you ever loved someone destructive? Someone that had something really shitty happen to them. Someone that had a good reason for being the way that they were. It kills you to watch them ruin their lives, but you understand it. You’ve seen their trauma firsthand. You’ve held them during their most vulnerable moments. You’ve suffered because they suffered.”
Hamilton stared at me, his eyes full of emotion but his expression vacant. “Yeah. I have.” I wanted to know about the person Hamilton loved who was destructive, but I didn’t ask. Letting out a sigh, I wrung my hands through my skirt before responding. How could I possibly explain my mother to Hamilton? To an outsider, her behavior didn’t make sense.
I was willing to love a person for what they were capable of. Just because my mother was ruined by abuse and shouldered with the responsibility of raising a baby while barely a teen herself, didn’t mean that she wasn’t capable of loving. She just didn’t know how to do things the right way. You can’t blame someone for their ignorance. “She’s just a damaged woman. She’s struggled with her mental health all my life. Even though she didn’t let me see a lot of it, I knew it was there. I know that, at some point, we all are responsible for our actions. We can’t always blame our trauma for the bad things we do. But what if the person simply doesn’t know any better? What if her only perception of love came from a child she didn’t want and a mother who abused her? I guess it may seem like I should challenge my mother to do better, but it’s not that easy. She is a product of her upbringing. She’s driven by her desire to feel secure. It’s not a crime to want a better life. I just want her to be happy.”
Hamilton thrust his hands through his hair and looked down at the ground. “I get it,” he whispered. “I really get it. My mother was an addict, Vera. Started taking pills after I was born.”
I wasn’t expecting Hamilton to admit that, and waited patiently for him to continue, though on the inside I was thankful that he was opening up to me—really opening up. It made our relationship feel more real. He popped his knuckles. I knew in my gut that Hamilton had to reconcile with his story on his own terms. He’d only share what he was comfortable with, and if he wanted to tell me more, he would.
“When I was young, I didn’t get it, but as I got older and the news about my birth mother broke, it all suddenly made sense.” Hamilton stood up and started cleaning up the kitchen, keeping his hands busy as he worked. “I was just a kid. I just wanted her to love me like she loved Joseph. But she was broken by Jack’s betrayal. The drugs got harder. The hate got heavier. The burden of her depression became too much, but I wanted to carry it all. I felt responsible for her sadness, you know.”
I wanted to wrap Hamilton up in a hug. It broke my heart to hear him talk about his mother. “I’ve never had normal relationships. I just wanted to be accepted. But I understood her pain. I wanted to take it all from her. And then she ended her life.”
I gasped. “Oh, Hamilton, that is terrible,” I whispered, emotion clogging my throat. I pushed myself off the counter and went to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek against his back. He patted my hand awkwardly and remained tense, but after a few minutes, he slowly relaxed into my embrace, curling his shoulders forward and letting out little hums of appreciation.
He pulled away, turned around, and kissed my forehead before speaking. “We’re conditioned to think that our parents are invincible heroes. We want the best for them. And slowly their humanity seeps through the cracks, you know? Sometimes they just aren’t capable of getting better—of changing. But at what point do we stop letting their issues ruin our lives?”
I didn’t have an answer to Hamilton’s question. I was still letting my mother call all the shots in my life. Even now, though I was with Hamilton, it was taking every ounce of control that I had not to run to her and ask for permission and forgiveness. I wanted to fix this. I hated disappointing her. That impulse to bend over backward and fix everything was ingrained in my soul.
“Let’s get going. Don’t want you to be late,” Hamilton said, changing the subject.
“Okay,” I replied. I was starting to understand Hamilton’s cues. When he wanted to end a conversation, when it was getting too close for comfort, he simply ended it.
Ended. It.
20
Jared was pacing the hallway outside the auditorium when I walked up. I clutched my textbook to my chest, treating it like armor as I walked up to him. Hamilton offered to go with me, but I needed to do this on my own. Jared had hurt me. If it weren’t for Hamilton calling him out, I probably wouldn’t have known that he was working for my stepfather. I had to start meeting my problems head on. No more hiding from them.
The moment Jared’s cerulean eyes landed on me, he practically sprinted my direction, a mixture of relief and anticipation on his porcelain expression. “Vera! Thank fuck you’re here. Joseph has been calling me nonstop—”
Of course Joseph had been calling him. My stepfather was such a prick.
