Page 123 of PS: I Hate You
Don’t hope for too much.
But maybe I could hope for something.
The autumn weather is brisk as we walk a block to a trendy vegan restaurant I know my mother will prefer. I’ll silently suffer through their lack of cheese. The chill temperature has me thinking of North Dakota and all the layers I plan to pack. But I can also rely on Dom and his body to keep me warm. The thought almost brings a smile to my face.
Then we sit down, and Cecilia immediately starts talking. “I think we can both admit I’ve given you long enough for this tantrumto pass. It’s time for you to start thinking of someone other than yourself. You’re not the only one who lost Josh.” She flicks a napkin and settles it on her lap as I gape at her, feeling like I’ve been slapped.
“I-I know that.” I stutter, though to be fair I was very self-focused at the funeral. But since then I’ve grasped how I’m not the only one grieving my brother. Dom sits prominent in my mind.
“Good.” She offers me a sweet smile that looks wrong to me. “I’m looking forward to reading the letters he left you.”
I jerk back so hard my chair almost topples over, and I think I scare our waitress. While Cecilia’s words solidify in my brain, she orders for us, which I don’t entirely mind because I can’t comprehend the idea of eating at the moment.
“What do you mean you’re looking forward to reading his letters?Myletters?” I haven’t even read all of them yet.
She huffs a breath and gives me a disappointed look. “Come now, Maddie. I miss my son. I deserve to read what he wrote.”
Already I’m shaking my head. “The notes aren’t for you.” A wave of righteous aggression has me leaning forward with a glare. “Are you going to show me the letter he wroteyou?”
For the first time a true emotion breaks through her motherly act. Discomfort. She clears her throat and smooths a hand down her linen shirt. “That was a personal correspondence. I’m his mother. It’s different.”
“The only thing different is I don’t want to read what Josh wrote to you.” And I realize as I say the words, they’re the truth. I’m rabid to read the final two letters from him, even as I’m reluctant to run out of words. But I don’t have the urge to track down the Perry parents to read their note. I haven’t asked Adam or Carter to share theirs. Josh’s words to someone else aren’t what I want. What I need.
What I crave more than anything are the words he left for me.
Me and Dom. But I don’t mind sharing with him. Not anymore.
My mother’s whole face is pinched now, and I’m sure she’d behorrified if her followers saw her like this. “I thought you might have grown up by now. But you’re still doing what you’ve always done.” She shuts her mouth as our salads are delivered.
“And what’s that?” I ask once the waitress is gone. “Respecting Josh’s wishes?”
“Clinging to Josh,” Cecilia snaps, voice low and harsh. “So much so you never bothered todoanything with your life.” I flinch and she rolls her eyes, like my pain only annoys her. “To think I believed having another child might entice your father to stay. But you only drove him away faster. Watching you grow up, I don’t know that I blame him.” She aggressively stabs her lettuce. “Your brother had promise. He was popular and talented, even in high school. And as surly as that Dominic Perry was, he was just as impressive as your brother with all his sports and clubs.” Cecilia sets her fork down with a clank without taking a bite. “And they were always bringing Rosaline around. Beautiful, charismatic, intelligent Rosaline. Do you know what it was like to come home and see her, the perfect daughter?” She goes back to salad stabbing. “Meanwhile, you followed the three of them everywhere. And when you weren’t annoying your brother and his friends, you just sat there with your books. Reading about make-believe worlds instead of living in the real one.”
As my mother goes into what sounds like a prerehearsed speech about how much of an utter disappointment I am, I sit completely still. I’m worried if I move, the jagged spikes of her vitriol will work deeper under my skin. Only by not moving can I avoid fatal internal bleeding.
All my life she’s thrown dismissive, hurtful comments my way, but this is the first time I’m getting a full lecture. As if she came here with the sole intention of breaking me down. Wearing away any bit of self-confidence I’ve built for myself.
What would I have turned into if Cecilia was all I’d ever had?
Without Josh, I’m not sure I would have survived.
“My mother always said if it weren’t for you, your father would have come back.” Cecilia glares at me, and I’m shocked to see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “But he never did. I lost my husband. And I lost my son. First to travel—probably to get some distance from you—and then to cancer.” Finally, she puts food in her mouth, briefly stemming the flow of her condemnation.
“That’s…” I rasp. “That’s not…I didn’tmakethem leave.”
At least, I don’t think I did.
She swallows and stares at me like I’m a dead fly she found in her food. “Well, you weren’t worth sticking around for, either, were you?”
The statement rings like a too-loud gong in my mind.
This would be an optimal time to cry—when the woman who is supposed to love me unconditionally is pointing out how I drive people away.
This is what she does,I try to remind myself.Acts the saint until she doesn’t get her way.
But when I was growing up, her retaliation wasn’t like this. She was dismissive and would disappear on a random trip. Florence was the one to berate me with harsh words. I wonder if mother and daughter have been spending more time together.
This clarifies something I always had trouble understanding: Florence’s clear dislike for me. But I guess if my grandmother blamed me for the dissolution of her daughter’s marriage, the harsh words she always flung at me make more sense.