“Are you serious?” Lorna asks incredulously. “You’ve spent all your time focused on her, and I was left to fend for myself. I got an award today. But I was there by myself because there is never anyone there for me. Never! I humiliated myself and lost my best friend at thirteen because of her. I threw up onstage in front of everyone and cost my high school choir competition because of her. I treated a boyfriend terribly because of her. I was arrested because of her; my classmate died because of her! And so much more. You know this. And we just keep letting her cycle in and out of our lives like it’s no big thing. It’s grossly unfair.”
“I never said it was fair. And there is nothing I am more aware of than how unfair it’s been to you, Lolo.” She reaches out her hand, forcing Lorna to take it. She weakly squeezes her fingers. “I know I was not the best mother to you. I know I wasn’t there when you needed me. But Kristen has been troubled since she was a little girl, and her problems were so deep and so profound and so constant that I didn’t know how to balance the two of you. And for that, I am very sorry.”
Rivers of Lorna’s rage stream down her face. “You could have sent her to Dad.”
Her mother snorts. “She’d be dead by now.”
Lorna pulls her hand free and covers her face with both hands. She thinks she hates them—her mother, her nonexistent father, and Kristen most of all. “You could have done something,” she says. “You could have been my mother too. But no, you’ll continue to let her crash here and use you, and you will continue to ask me to pick up the pieces.”
“Oh honey, please let it go. I’m not going to turn my daughter out to the streets. But you? You’re young, you have a bright future. This bitterness is going to eat you alive. You need to let the past go and be present in your life now. Think about your future. Don’t think about how you’ve been wronged.”
“If you think a few years of Al-Anon means you can start psychoanalyzing me, you’re wrong,” Lorna says curtly. “I’ve had enough therapy to last all my life, and still, nothing ever changes.”
“Because the only thing you can change is the way you react, honey. Like all this dwelling on the things that happened so long ago. You could change the way you view it all. For example, Callie. You could talk to her.”
“Oh my God,” Lorna mutters.
“And the choir concert, well... things happen to all kids. If you feel so strongly about it, write your teacher a letter or something.”
“You make it sound like I’m being whiny, Mom. That was traumatic.”
“I’m just saying you have regrets you should find a way to let go of for the sake of your own happiness. No matter what happens with Kristen or me, your life is your choice. Your happiness is a choice. You could choose to find a way to let it go and be happy. And as for all your disappointment with your sister? You’d be happier if you let her go too. Kristen is going to do what she’s going to do, and nothing is going to change that. Butyoucan change if you are unhappy. You can decide now to let her go and live your life. I want you to be happy, Lolo. It’s too late for me to help you, but you can help yourself.”
Lorna can’t stand much more of this—her rage, her grief, her inability to control a single thing in her life. “Really?” She stands. “And how is that going to work, Mom? You’re going to die, and then who will be here to take care of Kristen?”
Her mother says nothing.
Lorna gets up and goes to the door. “I’ll call your doctor tomorrow,” she says.
“I’d appreciate it.”
Lorna draws a shaky breath. “Do you have food? I’ll call a service and see if they can come in a couple of times a week and check on you. Maybe do some shopping.”
“Peggy will look in on me.”
Lorna is seething so hard that she is shaking. “It’s not Peggy’s job, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.” She puts her hand on the doorknob, so full of rage she can hardly see.
“Lorna?”
Lorna steels herself and looks back at her frail mother.
“I always wanted to be a mother; did you know that? I never wanted to have a career; I wanted to be a mom. I wanted to be a good mother to you both, but unfortunately, I discovered I only had the capacity to be a mother to the neediest of you. That is the regret I will take to my grave.”
Lorna says nothing. She leaves without speaking.
Her mother takes the regret to her grave by the end of the month.
Chapter 34Lorna Now
The day of bean’s science fair debut was overcast and cold. It seemed the perfect sort of weather for Lorna and Aggie to pay a visit to her mother’s grave. Kristen had insisted Mom be buried instead of cremated so that they would always have a place to be near her. Lorna had been too broken to argue the practicalities or metaphysics of that, and had, of course, taken care of it. Except the coffin. Kristen had insisted on a pale pink coffin with a blue silk lining. “She’s been sick for so long, I want her to be happy,” she’d said.
Lorna wondered how many times Kristen had come here to be near Mom.
She brought fresh flowers with her. In the weeks and months after her mother died, Lorna came every week without fail, changing out the flowers, picking weeds until the grass grew over the grave site. But as time went on, she visited less often and moved deeper into herself. She’d told herself that her mother wasn’t here, and that coming here wasn’t going to bring her back, not even in spirit. She was surprised at the sense of peace she felt walking up to the grave. She did feel a little closer to her.
A church group had put plastic flowers on untended graves.Lorna removed them from the permanent flower vase and replaced them with the flowers she’d brought. She gazed at the granite tombstone.Mindy Ann Pearson Lott, it read, with the dates of her mother’s birth and death just below. Her mother had been sixty-eight years old when she died.So young.
Lorna stood with her arms crossed over her body, hugging herself. Considering who she was in this moment. She didn’t feel like the same woman who had last been here with tears in her eyes and rage in her heart. She didn’t feel like that lonely woman who couldn’t find a way to reach out to anyone. She felt different now. Lighter. Like she was finally letting go of things she really couldn’t control.
