Nodding was all I could do to answer. She’d stunned me too much for my mouth to work properly.
Her eyes dropped to my lap as she let out a long breath. “Aubrey,” she started, which worried me since she hardly ever used my full name. “I had no idea how sick you were. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
I wished I’d had a mirror so that I could see my reflection. I’m sure my face registered shock and surprise at her words. My eyes opened wide and my mouth fell open as air refused to enter my lungs.
“Aubrey, we need to talk.”
A jolt of hysteria overcame me. Did she know Mr. Taylor had been here? Did she see the phone in my hand before I covered it up? Did she get a call from the school? So many paranoid fears flooded my mind and kept me unable to respond to her. Knowing her, if she even thought I’d befriended a teacher from school, she’d have him fired before morning. And I couldn’t lose him.
He was my only friend.
He was the only person who ever cared about me.
I couldn’t lose him so soon.
“The other night…” She seemed so nervous to talk to me, which was completely out of character for her. I’d never seen her even hesitate when speaking to me, so this had me quiet and still, waiting for the familiar sting of her words. “I was mad and made the decision to let you walk home. I honestly had no idea it had started to rain until way later. And I swear to you, I thought you had come inside. I saw your keys on the counter when I came down from my shower, and figured you’d gone upstairs. And since I was mad, I didn’t want to go up and check on you, because I knew it would only cause me to yell.”
“I don’t get it, Mom. I rang the doorbell and pounded on the door for a long time. At least five straight minutes. How did you not hear that?” Tears stung my eyes, remembering that night so clearly, and unable to believe a word she said.
“That must’ve been while I was in the shower. I’ve done some awful things to you, things I’m not proud of and don’t want to discuss right now, but I’d never purposely leave you outside in that weather overnight. I’d never do that.” Her voice shook, causing me to focus on her watering eyes.
I’d never seen her cry before. I’d heard her after my dad left, but it was always behind a closed door. Watching tears pull at the rims of her eyes before cascading quickly down her rosy cheeks weakened my resolve. It crumbled my hard exterior when it came to her, and it softened my fight. I didn’t want to believe her, but witnessing her guilt over it, I couldn’t help but buy her story.
“And then you were quiet and down on Sunday, and I just thought you were pissed about it. I didn’t know what to say by that point. I felt horrible knowing you’d been outside that whole time, but I didn’t know how to express it. I have a hard time showing my feelings around you sometimes.”
I shook my head, which caused her to pause her excuse. “You don’t have a hard time showing me your anger. You never hesitate to let me know when I’ve pissed you off or I’m doing something wrong. You never tiptoe around your feelings about my grades or school. The only time you have any difficulty expressing anything is when you do something wrong. When you knock my head against a door and make me look like I’ve gone twelve rounds with Rocky. Or when you leave me alone at a closed library, and make me walk home in the freezing rain. When you make me sleep on a lounge chair in the back yard with nothing to keep me warm. Those are the only times you hesitate to say anything. Is it that hard to admit you’ve done something wrong? Is it that hard to apologize…or at least let me know you feel bad about it?” Tears had streaked my face by that point, and nothing could stop the quivering in my chin. My hands shook in my lap from the adrenaline that sucker-punched my system. I’d never spoken back to my mom before, and had it not felt so good at that moment, I would’ve feared the repercussions.
Her throat worked hard as she swallowed, probably feeling every ounce of my anger. All I wanted her to see was that I was a child—her child—and never deserved anything she’d ever given me. I deserved so much better than being ignored or treated like some household servant. I was the only family she had left, and she made me feel as if she’d rather be alone than to have me there. I wished she could see that.
“Is it so hard to be my mom?” My words were nothing but a whispered plea, begging her to show me that she loved me. In that moment, I didn’t feel like a sixteen-year-old. I felt like a small child, hungry for the love and affection from a parent.
Some kids act out to gain their parent’s attention. They say bad attention is better than none at all. Some kids seek it from other people or things. Drugs. Alcohol. Parties and sex. But not me. I never once acted out, talked back, did anything bad to be seen. I would’ve rather gone the rest of my life invisible to her than to garner the wrong kind of notice.
But Axel had done something to me. He saw me. And it made me feel special. It made me yearn to experience that from the one person that was supposed to give it to me. I didn’t need to daydream about some relationship with a man whose purpose was to prepare me for the future. I didn’t need to spend my time thinking about a guy that smiled at me, imagining what it would be like to be held by him. I didn’t need a stranger to comfort me. I needed that from my mom. That was her job. She was supposed to teach me what love meant. It was her responsibility to lay the groundwork for my future, give me an example of the way it’s supposed to be, show me what I had to look forward to. It was her job to hold me when I was scared, dry my tears, and bring me medicine when I was sick. All these things I’d buried long ago. I’d come to the conclusion when I was very young that I’d never get that…not from her. And when my dad left, I’d accepted that I’d never get that from anyone.
Until Axel Taylor came into my life.
Until I walked into his classroom.
Until he showed me he cared.
Now, after all this time, I wanted it from her. I wanted it from my mom. And I would fight to get it if I had to. I would call her out on her bullshit. Her lies. Her inability to take blame or apologize for her mistakes. I couldn’t allow it to carry on the way it was.
“Don’t you get tired of this?” I asked, studying her reaction closely.
Her eyes dropped, her hands fisted in her lap, and her shoulders pulled back, as if the muscles were taut with some kind of heavy emotion I couldn’t read. I couldn’t read it because I’d never seen it on her before.
“Don’t you want to have a relationship with me? I’m your daughter. I’m your only child.” I hiccupped a sob when I said, “Don’t you love me?” The tears had filled my vision so much that I couldn’t see her. She was nothing more than a shadowy figure in front of me.
“I just wanted you to know that I never meant to leave you locked outside. It was an accident.” Her voice was all I had to go on since I couldn’t see her, and it was filled with ice. Cold and distant. It lacked the emotion I’d previously witnessed before going blind with salty pain. “It’ll never happen again.”
And then the shadow rose from the ground and vanished. I couldn’t even find the strength to wipe my eyes, knowing if I could see her walk away from me, it would be worse than the assumption. I couldn’t handle that, even though it was all I was used to. It reiterated to me that my mother was nothing more than a silhouette. She was the closing curtain on my final act, leaving me alone on the stage of life with my grief and deep-seeded insecurities. Hell, she was my insecurity.
All this started because of one man.
Axel Taylor had ruined me.