Page 95 of Unbearable
I’m used to being alone. I miss Raven and her constant laughter and the way she fills my apartment with her energy. Not having her here with me, my chest feels hollow and I don’t like the sensation or the fact that silence greets me so often.
When you’re dependent on others because you had your brain operated on, it’s surprisingly difficult to do even the simplest of tasks. My memory isn’t the best either so while I intend on going to the kitchen, I’ll get there and forget why I went in there in the first place.
One certainty at this point, not having a license is definitely for the better, because hell, I’d probably get where I was going and forget why I was headed there in the first place. I felt like my grandpa when he had a stroke and I was constantly driving to Portland or Seaside because he’d forget where he was going and I’d have to go get him and bring him back to Lebanon.
Luckily for me, I live above the shop and people are constantly checking on me. Usually Lenny.
So while I’m lying on the couch Monday morning, there’s a knock on my door.
It takes me a couple minutes but when I open the door in just a pair of basketball shorts, I’m expecting it to be her.
“Lenny, I told you I’m fine.” I look up; it’s not Lenny. It’s my mom. “Oh, what are you doing here?”
She frowns, clearly upset with me. “You’re my son, Tyler. I gave you space in the hospital, but you’re going to talk to me now that you’re home.”
I knew sooner or later my mom would show up and demand I talk to her. I’m actually surprised she waited this long. I figured when I bailed on Christmas with her and my dad she would have blown up on me. But she didn’t. She gave me time. I guess I should give her an opportunity, right?
I scratch my shaved head, but I don’t say anything to her. I know I’m being a dick but damn it, I’m still pissed off.
“That’s enough,” she says, pushing past me with a bag of groceries in her arms. She sets them on the counter and opens the fridge, probably realizing I didn’t need any of those because Raven took care of it. “You know, I get why you’re mad at me, Tyler.” Our eyes meet when I pause, just before sitting back down on the couch. “And I can’t tell you how sorry I am but I’m still your mother and I deserve some respect.”
I sit down on the couch and push the play button to the movie I was watching, completely ignoring her. I want to punch myself for disrespecting my mother this way.
Grabbing the remote from me, as if I’m a little boy, she turns off the movie. “You’re going to hear me out even if you don’t want to.” She sits across from me, right in the way of my movie. “When you were little, I didn’t care about what the side effects were because for the first time, you weren’t helpless and having seizureseveryday. Do you know what it’s like to not be able to leave your ten-year-old son alone because you’re afraid at any moment he can have a seizure and hurt himself?”
I shake my head, because while I’ve been the one having them, I don’t know what it’s like for others who witness it, just like they don’t understand my side of this. All I know is the lack of control I have, the sense of being helpless. The vulnerability that controls my life.
“When the doctors brought up the side effects of the medication, it wasn’t necessary to talk to you about it because you were so young. I don’t regret that. There was no need in telling a ten-year-old boy there was a possibility he might be sterile someday. All you needed to know was that for the first time in your life you had a chance to be normal. You had a chance to run and play just like every other ten-year-old. So your father and I, well,” she pauses and looks down at her hands, and then back up at me, “We just put it in the back of our minds. I think we both figured the time would present itself and we would tell you then. I know it’s no excuse and believe me, Itrulyregret not telling you sooner. But please understand your father and Ineverkept this from you in order to hurt you in any way. It was just the opposite actually. By the time you and Berkley finally got your heads out of your asses and decided to be serious, I was afraid. You were happy and it broke my heart that your father or I would have to be the ones to take a piece of that away from you. I understand it was a completely selfish act, but by not telling you, it protected us from having to be the person who hurt you.”
I snort, crossing my arms over my chest like the defiant shit I’m being. “What did you think would happen? Were you going to wait until I got married and then say, well, by the way…?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t make a mistake, Tyler. We love you. So much. I’m just saying we didn’t set out to hurt you and I’m sorry it happened this way. You’re the most important person in our lives and I hope eventually you can forgive us.”
We stare at one another for a moment, probably longer than she wants and then she stands, knowing I’m probably not ready. And I’m not. I’m a big grudge holder and it’s going to take me a while to get over this. I try to put myself in her position if I had a son, but then that just upsets me too because that’s not going to happen for me. Regardless, she is my mother and I can’t treat her this way.
When she’s at the door, I stand up and make the few steps to her. She’s crying now and embraces me, her arms around my waist, hugging me.
“I love you, Mom.”
She breaks down into sobs. “I love you, so much, Tyler.”
“Would you like to have dinner next week? Me, Dad and you?”
She’s shocked by my invitation, eyes wide and face flushing. “Yes, definitely. Just let us know when you feel up to it.”
“Okay, I will. How about Wednesday night?”
She steps out the door. “Sounds great.”
I knew I needed to make an effort with my parents. I couldn’t keep holding it against them just because they were trying to protect me. They may have gone about it the wrong way but I know they love me and we need to move past this.
KNOWING I SHOULDN’T, I make my way downstairs to check on the guys and see how work is going this afternoon. As soon as I step foot in the shop, Red gives me that disapproving look. I know it because I used to give it to him when he’d show up after he was shot.
He glances up from the truck he’s replacing a head gasket on, reaching for the shop towel on the fender. “You’re supposed to be upstairs.”
Sitting down on the stool next to his tool cart, I shrug. “I’m bored.”
“I know that feeling.”
