Page 11 of We're All Liars
“Why won’t you forgive your mom but you keep coming back to me?”
Wow. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. And unfortunately, I can’t answer. “I don’t understand it myself.”
I hesitate for a few seconds before I walk into the café. The question bats around my mind the entire time I wait in line to get a refill, then I head back outside. When I return, Morgan’s chair is empty. She’s running again. Another out-of-character move for this recent version of who she is. It’s a definite sign she’s struggling more in her mind than she’d ever admit. But I don’t go after her, instead choosing to give her some space. Mainly because I’m still feeling out of sorts by her question. Morgan has made it her mission to make my life hell. Her tactics are definitely a bit excessive and unwarranted, but after finding out about the pregnancy, I can understand where her hatred for me stems from.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I drink down the remainder of coffee.
This is the worst idea I’ve had in a while (and there have been some doozies), but I stand and head to see the last person I ever thought I’d seek out—my mom.
* * *
A quick message to Dustin is surprisingly effective as he divulges the information swiftly without a lecture or questioning to my intentions, sending me mom’s hotel and room number. I half expected him to refuse to tell me or insist on coming with me. Thankfully, he did neither. There’s a strong impulse in me that needs to ask her… needs a response I never thought I’d get. But I want to know her reason. Want to hear why she abandoned her entire life, including me, and never looked back.
The hotel lobby is a blur, and I don’t snap out of it until the elevator concierge asks me what floor I’m heading to.
“Fourth.” This damn place makes Morgan’s word echo in my head again. I’m certain she booked all this when she organized the circus of a reunion.
My heavy fist feels like it’s full of lead as I lift it and knock on the door. A few seconds later, it opens to my mom’s surprised face. Dustin must not have informed her I was heading over.
“Cade,” she gasps my name and steps aside as she waves me in the room. “Come on in. I’m so happy you’re here.”
I step inside the room, and she closes the door behind me. As she goes to say some other bullshit, I cut her off and ask the only thing I want to know. “Why?”
When her smile fades into a tight expression, I know my question needs no explanation. It’s clear I’m waiting for answers I already know I won’t like. But in this moment, I realize there’s some part of me that prays she has some logical reasoning, any sort of justifiable rationalization to explain what she did.
She stiffly moves to the opposite side of the room and drops onto the love seat as she motions for me to sit. The silence grows louder as I watch her pour a glass of water, slide it across the table, then pour another that she takes a small sip from as I remain in place. “I don’t blame you for being on edge. Or for hating me. I do want to explain. But I want you to understand that I wasn’t in the right state of mind when I left.” Her eyes stay on the glass of water clutched between her fingers.
“Just tell me.” One way or another, I want this conversation to be over.
“It was too much. Everything with your father, finances, his gambling, my failures. Then, after what happened with your brother, I felt both of you would be better off without me.” She finally looks to me as she says, “When I drove away, I had every intention of ending my life. I tried… but a housekeeper found me in the motel room, and I ended up in a psychiatric hospital for a few days and agreed to an outpatient program.” A slight smile rises on her lips. “There was a kind doctor who helped me, gave me hope that things would get better. And they finally did. Staying away was so hard, and I thought a million times about coming back, but I was worried I’d make it harder on you. Because there is still a nagging voice in my head that tells me you’re better off without me. So, I made the hard choice to stay away. Maybe it was my way of punishing myself.” She lets out a soft chuckle.
Glad she finds this comical. I don’t see anything fucking funny about it. “I get it. You were dealing with shit. But don’t lie to yourself. Staying away was theeasierchoice. Coming back would have meant you’d have to face the consequences of your own actions.”
All the hopefulness drains from her face as she says, “You’re right. I’m a coward.”
Her pity act rubs me the wrong way. “I don’t feel sorry for you. If you were well enough to speak to Morgan, you were well enough to speak to me.”
“I tried. I lost count on how many times I picked up the phone to call you. But nothing felt right. I would just set it down and tell myself you were better off with Dustin.”
The mention of my brother reminds me of something else she said. “What happened with Dustin?” There’s nothing I remember… He wasn’t even living at home at the time.
She gives me a confused glance before quickly looking away. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Apparently not.” I wait for a response, but the only thing she says is, “Maybe it’s a conversation you should have with him.”
Now I actually do let out a small chuckle. Because this is wild. There’sanother thingbeing kept from me. “Does everyone have some big fucking secret they’re keeping? Can’t everyone just tell the fucking truth and not hide shit?” I don’t realize I’m shouting until I see her flinch. As pissed as I am, I still don’t want her to feel scared of me or relive the fear she had when my dad would go on one of his drunken episodes.
“I need to go.” I exhale, but it’s not enough to release the rage built up inside me.
Mom is beside me before I can get to the door. “Please stay. And I will tell you anything you want to know. I just need you to promise me that you won’t blame anyone but me. You and Dustin have been through enough. I’m the parent, this should me on me, not on either of you.” She shifts between me and the door. “I can have something brought up if you’re thirsty or hungry. I really want to spend some time with you.”
God, this was a stupid idea. “Room service, huh? Putting it on Morgan’s tab?” I wave around the extravagant room.
She is puzzled for a few seconds before she quickly shakes her head. “No… no. She’s not paying for the room. I am.”
I take a step away from Mom and look around the room. This hotel is one of the priciest in New Orleans. “Wow. You must’ve really done well for yourself while you were making that hard choice.”
Her eyes drop to the floor as her arms fold over her chest. “I was lucky.” And that’s the moment I notice the ring on her left hand. “At first, I struggled with my health and finances. But once I decided to get a job at the hospital, everything fell into place. The work I do really matters. It gives me a purpose. And that’s where I met Elijah.” Her hand grips her bicep tighter. “He’s a heart surgeon. We met in the hospital cafeteria. First, we were just friends, but it became more as we got to know each other. I always joke with him that he’s so good, he healed my heart without even operating.”