“I-Idon’t know how you did it,” I blurted on an abrupt sob.
“HowI didwhat, honey?”
“Lethim go!”
“Oh,Kylie … Devin’s going to come back. It’s only been a few wee—"
Isniffled, shaking my head. “I broke up with him, Mom! I told him I was done.”
“Whydid you do that?” She spoke gently, coddling me in the way she never did afterDad died. In the way I wish she had.
Ididn’t know how to tell her the truth. I didn’t know how to confess that itscared me, seeing him smoking that joint. How it had shaken something in me,something suppressed and silenced for all those years. That seeing him withRobbie, shook and startled those hidden parts of me. That Robbie fucking Whiterepresented all of those things Ihatedand that Devinwas feeding right into it. How I needed to let him go, before I witnessed thedestruction of someone else I loved.
Ididn’t know how to say all of that, when I was afraid I’d pop her bubble ofhappiness. The one she had waited so long to find.
“Ican’t tell you,” I replied honestly, regretfully, and she sighed.
“Can’t,or don’t want to?”
Snifflingsoftly, I said, “I don’t want to.”
“Kylie,hon … there’s nothing you can say that will hurt me.”
Isighed, gazing up at the ceiling. “I caught him smoking weed, and I just … Idon’t know, I just …” Those words felt weird and cumbersome on my lips. Big andawkward, like they didn’t quite fit in my mouth and I couldn’t spit out how Ifelt, or why it bothered me so much.
ButI didn’t need to. “I see,” Mom said quietly. “Honey … that’s not what makessomeone addicted. You do know that, right?”
Myeyelids pinched shut, blacking my vision from the bright ceiling. “I know that,but it scares me. Everything is changing, he’s changing, and—"
“Kylie,you’ve wanted this for him for a very long time,” she reminded me.
“Iknow that!” I shouted into the phone. “And I still do, but I wanted it for himand his music. I just don’t think I recognize either of them anymore.”
“So,what? You gave up on him?”
Thatstung. “I didn’t give up, Mom.”
“Yes,you did. You didn’t like what was happening and so, you gave up.” Her tone washarsh and very unlike the way the conversation had started. “You want to knowhow I did it, Kylie? You want to know how I let your father go?”
Icouldn’t respond, but she didn’t make me.
“Ididn’t. I didn’t give up on him, because Ilovedhim. I didn’tleave him, because Ilovedhim. I stuck it out, even when maybe Ishouldn’t have, because Ilovedhim.” She was adamant and firm. Eachword struckmeand each word pulled another tear frommy eye. “Ilovedyour father, Kylie.”
ThenI blurted out, “Do you love Richard?”
Momsighed. She hesitated, then said, “I do.” And there it was; my mom was in lovewith another man. I knew it, since that night we first met him. The night whenhe changed Devin’s world. It wasn’t even about seeing them together, but Icouldfeelit. It pulsed from them like an aura. “I love himdifferently, Kylie,” she continued, needing to justify herself. It was theguilt, I guess; the guilt of moving on. “It’s not any better, or any worse—it’sdifferent.”
“Iget it, Mom,” I said gently, nodding at the ceiling.
“Areyou okay with that?”
“Comeon, Mom; you don’t need my permission.”
Shelet out a little laugh. “I’m not asking for yourpermission, but I’dstill like to know if you’re okay with it.”
Iclosed my eyes and searched for that sliver of pain inside me, insisting thatthe world would end, if my mom felt something deeply for another man. I scouredmy heart, every bloody vessel and vein and was startled to come up empty.Nothing but acceptance, and with that came a new kind of ache. The pain ofletting go.
“Of courseI’m okay, Mom,” I said as another tear worked itsway over my cheek. “You deserve to be happy.”
