Page 10 of Truck Me
But no. Brad had to shock me with it by telling me at a charity event in front of Chicago’s rich and famous and half of my clients.
“But you two were so good together,” Mom whispers. When I glance over at her, a tear runs down her cheek.
I pull her in for a hug, both loving and hating that she’s crying on my behalf. I’ve shed enough tears over Brad and what he did. I don’t want him to be responsible for any more. Not even my mom’s tears.
“I thought so too. But I was wrong. Just give me some more time, okay?”
“But how much time? You’ve already been here a few weeks, and you and Brad broke up before Christmas. It’s been a couple of months. Don’t keep this bottled up inside you.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “Trust me. It’s not bottled up inside me. I let it all out for the world to see.”
“What does that even mean?” Mom looks confused.
“Like I said, if you read the gossip rags, you’d know all the sordid details, and a few made-up ones.”
“Those made-up ones are the reason I’m not reading them.”
Once the last of the dishes are washed or in the dishwasher, I dry my hands and turn to face my mother. She’s staring at the floor with a wrinkle in her brow that makes it look like she’s trying to solve all of life’s problems.
She also looks older than I recall her ever looking before. Her once dark hair is now mostly gray and pulled back in a low bun at the nape of her neck. The wrinkles around her eyes and mouth have deepened, and her skin has lost all its glow. She’s still a beautiful woman, but she looks sad and tired and completely rundown.
Life’s not been easy on my mom and it’s starting to show. Between losing my sister, my dad’s dementia, and how my life imploded, it’s amazing that she’s still standing and fighting for her family. I could learn a thing or two from how she handles life’s crises.
Mom may have moments where she lets her emotions and sadness win, but she always lets it out. She’s not afraid to cry or express herself. She lets herself have a moment and then picks herself back up and starts fresh the next day as if she has the perfect life.
I wish I could be more like her.
I sigh, knowing I should just get it over with—tell her what happened. It’s not that I don’t want her to know. Anyone who reads gossip rags knows what happened to me. I feel foolish and stupid and naïve.
I’d been with Brad for seven years. I thought I knew him. Sweet, attentive, affectionate, and a great lover. He told me he loved me, and that he’d always take care of me. I believed him. But I was blinded by my love for him and never saw who he really was.
“How much time before Dad’s appointment?” I ask, needing to change the subject.
Mom checks the time. “Two hours.”
I nod. “I’ll get Rayne ready to go over to Grams’ house.”
“Thanks, and please apologize to Mila for any inconvenience. I really didn’t know today was a teacher’s workday and Rayne would be home.”
I nod. “Is Dad ready, or do you need me to help?”
“No, I’ve got him. He’s in the living room watching TV until it’s time to go.”
Before heading back to Rayne’s room, I pull my mom in for a hug. “I love you. I’ll tell you everything soon. I promise.”
She sighs and tightens the hug. “I love you too.”
“I know you do.”
When I release her and head down the hallway, I’m grateful that I’ve avoided this conversation for another day, but the relief I desperately need doesn’t come.
Instead, I’m filled with dread at the fact that an even tougher conversation is poking its head around the corner.
I’m not looking forward to hearing what my dad’s doctor has to say about his dementia.
* * *
Despite my insistence that I drive Rayne to Grams’ house, we’re walking along the path that cuts through the woods separating our property from theirs. It’s not that far. Maybe a couple of city blocks, but it’s freezing outside.