Page 44 of Fractured Mind
There’s silence, so I pull the phone away from my ear, but the call is still connected. Just when I’m about to speak, she does.
“After I finish the program, we’re expected to continue therapy. I was hoping you’d join me during the family sessions.”
Straight away, my guard goes up. “Why do I have to go?”
She heaves a deep sigh. “The counselor suggested it can help both of us to overcome any psychological damage my addiction has caused.”
I press my lips together firmly at the idea. I have no desire to go to therapy so that some stranger can dissect my life. Now that I’m finally happy, I’d rather not relive my past again.
Big, deep sobs erupt through the phone. “I’m so sorry.”
My vision blurs. I’ve heard her apologize before, but this time she sounds genuine.
When the crying dies down, she continues. “There’s a great deal I want to talk to you about, but I’ll wait until I get home. I’m deeply sorry for everything.”
I hoped her getting help would ease my worries, but a deep sense of fear still grips me when I think she might relapse. My heart rattles in my chest, and the tension in my shoulders mirrors my internal struggle. “Thank you for apologizing,” is allI can say. I’m not going to say I forgive her because I don’t—not yet anyway.
“Well, I’d better get going. I’m sure you have homework to do.”
“Before you go,” I rush out, “there’s one question I want an answer to. Can you tell me about my accident?”
“I-I think it’s for the best if we talk about that when I get home.”
The worry in her voice makes the hair on my neck stand up. What if she doesn’t recover? Ashton can’t run with me all the time.
“Can you answer this question, and everything else can wait until you get out?” I ask.
“It’s best to tell you in person. There’s a lot that needs to be explained.”
My hand grips the phone more firmly at her deflection. “Please, Mom,” I beg. “You owe me this.”
“Not like this. Not over the phone.”
“I’ve done everything for you,” I screech with raw emotion. “I worked so hard to keep a roof over our heads, and you can’t even tell me the truth about my past?” I’m yelling, but I can’t help it. My heart accelerates, my breathing is heavy, and my chest burns with frustration.
There’s silence until I hear a faint “okay” in reply.
I rub my thigh with a trembling hand as dread settles in my gut.
She clears her throat. “You went for a run that day. You were only young, so if you wanted to go running by yourself, you could only run around your nana’s property. It was getting late and...”
“Yes, keep going...” I was afraid Mom wouldn’t continue.
“Your grandpa and I left to go to the shops...”
How does that have anything to do with my accident? I think to myself.
“It was dusk. I was distracted and didn’t see you, but your grandpa did.”
I go rigid and I inhale sharply.
“It was an accident.” Her voice sounds tortured. “He grabbed the steering wheel, and we swerved, hitting a tree. Because of him, you didn’t get the full force of the car, but you hit your head when you fell and he died on impact.”
I lower my head, my eyes blurring once more. A couple of tears escape, falling onto my shirt. I remember Nana’s words:It broke her when he passed away. Then she almost lost you. In a way, she kind of did. She told me, but I hadn’t put the two events together. I’d say that’s the main reason Mom never brought me back here. Except this time, she had no choice.
“I need time to process this,” I choke out and hang up the phone before she can respond.
A deep pain wracks my body. I wrap my arms around my middle as if trying to hold myself together and stop my heart from ripping open. Crushing inner agony makes my chest heave as the tears continue to flow down my cheeks.