“Good,” she says, sniffling out the last of her tears. “Then neither will I.”
The conference room is small and plain. A square table with four chairs and a phone. Dr. Sanderson sits at the head of the table and I notice a red light flashing on the phone.
“Landen. Your mother surprised you with this visit. How does that make you feel?”
“Just jump right in with the psychoanalysis, Doc. It makes me feel sad. Hold me,” I answer, pulling out a seat for my mother and then one for myself.
She forces a tight smile but her eyes meet mine and amusement sparkles in them. “Sarcasm won’t help you. It’s not one of the suggested tools for dealing with anger. You know that.”
“That I do.” I sit while she and my mother say brief hellos.
“Okay,” Dr. Sanderson begins, taking a deep breath and pushing her wavy red hair behind her ear. “It’s up to you two if you want me here or not. I can stay and mediate, or you can have this conversation in private. Which would you prefer?”
“Private,” I say at the exact same moment my mother says, “Stay.”
We glance at each other and I shrug. “Whatever.”
“How about I give you a few minutes alone and then I check back in a bit?” Dr. Sanderson stands and places a hand firmly on my shoulder as she moves past me. “You can do this,” she says softly.
“Is that him?” I ask my mom once the doctor closes the door behind her. Jerking my eyes toward the flashing light on the phone, I try to ignore the tension building inside of me, the tightening of my chest.
“It is,” my mom answers, obviously not needing clarification. She takes a deep breath and locks her eyes onto mine. “Landen, I know this isn’t easy. None of it. What you and Layla are going through, dealing with a truth that was hidden from you, paying for the mistakes of others. But before we hash this whole thing out, I just wanted to say that no matter how you feel about all of this once we’re finished here today or how you feel about me, I love you.” Her eyes begin to fill with tears and I look down. No matter what she’s done or hasn’t done over the years, I hate seeing my mom cry. “And I’m proud of you.”
I close my eyes and I see myself destroying the apartment in Spain. Layla’s heartbroken expression when I threw her vase of seashells against the wall.
There’s nothing about me that anyone should be proud of.
When I glance up my mom reaches a hand out and places it on my cheek. I don’t lean into her touch but I don’t flinch away either.
“Ready?” she whispers.
No.“Guess so,” I say instead.
I watch as she presses the red button below the flashing light. “Jack?”
“Annie.” The Colonel’s voice still causes my organs to seize up. “Is he…did he agree to—”
“I’m here,” I say, wishing his goddamn voice didn’t make me feel five fucking years old. “Let’s hear it. Whatever bullshit story you two want to tell me. I’m listening.”
“Landen, your mother and I—” The Colonel begins, but mom cuts him off.
“I was nineteen. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. There was no money for college and I had no skills, no real ones anyway, to get a job. But they hired me as a receptionist in the Army enlistment office at the community college.” Her body is still and her eyes are glazed over as if she’s actually somewhere much further from me. “Your father signed up on my first day. He also asked me to dinner.”
“I still remember that red sweater you had on,” The Colonel says from the speaker. “I was nervous as hell about enlisting, but it was the family business so I didn’t have much of a choice. And then I walked in and you smiled at me and I couldn’t wait to sign those damn papers and get back out there to ask you out.”
My teeth are on edge as I listen to them reminisce. I don’t like it. Because it tells me they were happy once. And then I came along and wrecked everything.
“We dated for six months and then, much to both of our families dismay, we were married.” My mom gives me a small smile that I don’t return. I always wondered why my grandparents didn’t stay in touch. As a kid I blamed it on the fact that we moved so much. Guess there was more to it than that.
“Right after our honeymoon, I was sent on three back-to-back deployments. Leaving my beautiful, young wife home alone. Alone in our house, alone in our marriage.” Regret thickens The Colonel’s voice. My stomach clenches at hearing him like this. He sounds so…human.
“It was lonely.Iwas lonely.” My mom reaches out to touch my arm, or maybe my hand, I’m not sure. I pull back because I can’t stand the thought of being touched right now. Not by anyone involved in this conversation anyways. The one person I want to be here isn’t. Her eyes reflect the hurt my action causes, but I just can’t right now. “It’s still no excuse,” she says so low I barely hear her.
The Colonel clears his throat. “It was a long time ago, Annie.”
“Don’t make excuses for me, Jack. He deserves to know.” Squaring her shoulders as she sits up straight, my mom pulls in a ragged breath. “Some of the girls from my office were going to a soccer game. A tournament of some type. I went along for lack of anything better to do. That’s where I met Javier Guzman. He was part Italian and completely over the top when it came to getting my attention.”
I always thought the expression “you could hear a pin drop” was an exaggeration. It isn’t. I’m holding my breath and I’m betting The Colonel is too.
