Page 19 of Breaking Free
I shrug. “Fine. How was yours?”
“About the same, I guess.”
“Did Ms. Anne come over today?”
“She did. She brought me some food. That was nice.”
I nod. “She wants to make sure you’re okay.”
“I don’t really know how to feel, to be honest.”
Mom hasn’t opened up too much since I’ve been home. She’s aware of my feelings or lack thereof for my father, so she’s not surprised by my lack of emotion when it comes to his death. She hasn’t asked why I’m not sad or why I haven’t cried, just like I haven't asked her why she has.
Before I left for college, we had a fight about him. I yelled at her and asked why she kept us in the same house. I questioned if she cared about me or herself. I said a lot of things I wish I could take back, but I was an angry teenager.
I had been abused, but she’s been abused, too. She’s probably suffered more than I did, but I thought that would make it easier to leave. However, I know it wouldn’t have been easy. She had no money, no job, no family nearby, and probably felt like staying with him was her only choice. I’m sure she loved him in her own way, regardless of how he treated her.
“What do you mean?”
She gives me a tight smile, tilting her head. “I know you and your father didn’t get along at the end.”
“We never did, Mom.”
She nods, looking away. “I’m not a naive woman, Dom. I’m sure you think I’m stupid and selfish for staying when things were bad.”
“Mom.”
She holds up a hand. “Your father used to be a good man. I know you didn’t see a lot of that, but he cared about me. He loved us. I knew him when I was just a girl, and he was the most charming boy I had ever come across. He was outgoing and funny. But life got to him, like it does to many people. Some people succumb to their vices. Alcohol and pills were your father’s and he couldn’t rip himself from their grip.”
“I don’t think he deserves to be painted as a victim.”
“I’m not saying he was innocent. He could’ve tried harder and made better decisions.”
“Like not hitting us? Yeah, I’d say so.”
She takes a breath. “I was devastated at first, and I’m still sad. I grieve for the boy I met and the young man that had so much potential. I grieve for you because you never had the father you deserved. I’m worried about my future, but…” she dabs at her eyes and pulls herself together. “There are times when I wake up or walk in here and feel relief. I no longer have to walk on eggshells or worry what might ignite his rage. And in those moments, I feel guilty.”
I reach out and hold her hand in mine. “Don’t feel guilty, Mom. Your feelings, all of them, are valid and important. You feel how you feel.”
Tears trickle down her cheeks as she looks at me and her chin wobbles. “I’m sorry, Dom. I’m so sorry.”
Before I can say anything, she gets up and apologizes once more before rushing to her room.
Hours go by and she doesn’t come back out. I’m due to meet up with Jay soon, so I head to her door and knock.
“Mom?”
A few seconds later she replies. “Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says with a sniffle.
“I was gonna go out, but I can stay here.”
“No, no. Go. Have fun. I promise I’m okay.”
“You sure?”