Unlovable (36 page)

“
I thought the rule was no
lectures about Seth if I let you give me a ride.”

“
No, that was our deal the
last time. Those conditions no longer apply. This is a different
day and time.” I thought to protest, but decided against it. His
lawyer-brain would just come up with some convoluted way to justify
his actions.

“
As I was saying, Seth makes
mistakes. He should have told you about us sooner, without a doubt,
and those of us who love him should overlook those mistakes and try
to understand why he did what he did.” He glanced over. “You have
something smeared on your cheeks, by the way.”

“
Wait, this whole ’Seth made
a mistake’ theory is pointless really.” I softly brushed at the
tender bruises, pretending to wipe my face off.

“
Not if you’ll forgive
him.”

“
Yes, even if I do forgive
him. He has a new girlfriend, Hillary Jeffers, they were kissing
after the pep rally last night.” My eyes welled up with tears, and
I turned my head to the window to keep him from seeing. Booker
pulled up in front of the hospital and took my face in his hand. I
winced as his fingers brushed up against the bruises. He promptly
let go.

“
How did you get these
bruises on your face?” He took my face gently in both of his hands,
not allowing me to pull away, and turning it from side to side, he
inspected the marks.

“
I don’t remember.” I was
too embarrassed to explain what had happened, which was nothing
really. Zack became a little over anxious, that’s all. Besides, I’d
already decided to talk to Mrs. Volkel about what had happened, the
whole world didn’t need to know.

“
Maggie, these bruises
didn’t just appear.”

“
Thanks for the ride.” I
pulled my head away and reached for the door when he caught my
hand.

“
Don’t you think it’s a bit
high and mighty of you to be blabbering on about trust and keeping
secrets, yet you won’t explain something as simple as these
bruises? And I might remind you that Seth wasn’t
allowed
to tell you, not
at first, anyway.”

Insert knife and twist. Yup, he was
going to make a mad wicked lawyer.

“
Maggie, I don’t know why he
was kissing Hillary.” He shook his head in disgust. “I can assure
you it wasn’t his idea, he’s hopelessly in love with you. In fact,
I’ve never seen him as miserable as he has been these past two
weeks without you. If you dyed your hair orange and stuck a bone
through your nose he’d still be in with love you.”

“
What if I’ve hurt him so
deeply he won’t forgive me?”

“
Not a chance,” he said,
leaning over and kissing the top of my head. “Talk to him. I know
you can work this out. Look how comfortable you are around me now,
Jailbait. A breathtakingly handsome MET agent just kissed you on
the head and you didn’t even flinch!”

“
I wish you’d stop call me
that, old man,” I murmured getting out of the car.

I went directly to my mom’s room and
ran into Cole. I decided there was no time like the present to
start repairing some of the damage I’d done.

“
Hi. I, um, owe you an
apology. I’ve been a real idiot, for lack of a better word, since
finding out about…everything.” I looked around to see if any of the
staff was listening. “You’ve done a lot for us, Dr. Colter, and I’m
grateful for everything.”

“
You don’t have to thank me,
and please, call me Cole,” he said kindly. “I’d like to talk to you
about your mom, if I may.” I sat down in the chair, worried about
what was coming next. “She’s stabilizing, although she’s not quite
strong enough for a liver transplant yet.”

“
Cole, do you think my
mother will
ever
be strong enough for the transplant?”

He hesitated. “I don’t want
to lie and say I’m not gravely concerned. What's worrying me at the
moment is her pancreas, it’s starting to show signs of failure.
Nevertheless, I have seen people in
worse
condition than her recover. I’m
not ready to give up yet. I put in a call to a colleague of mine in
Washington DC who’s a phenomenal doctor. If anyone can come up with
a way to help your mother, it’ll be her.” I slumped back down in my
chair. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“
I’m not hungry, but don’t
worry. Yesterday on my way to school, I
happened
to find $100. Imagine my
surprise.”

“
He’s not very subtle,” Cole
laughed, “but he does love you.” His eyes settled on my cheek. “How
did you get those bruises?”

“
Ah, it’s dirt.” I raised my
hand, pretending to wipe off my cheeks. An overhead page for him
boomed through the speakers, and he left before he could examine my
face further.

I left the hospital later than usual
and somehow was able to avoid Booker. Cole’s words had left me with
a heavy heart, and I didn’t have it in me to banter with him
tonight. My senses were at full alert as I rushed home in the dark.
Every bark of an angry dog, every swish of an owl’s wings overhead
caught my attention.

Once home, I hurried inside,
immediately locking the door behind me. I made a sandwich and
pulled out the last letter from my mom. I’d tried so hard to forget
about it, it was all I thought about anymore.

The envelope was dated January of this
year, and for some reason this letter was the most difficult for me
to open. I stared at it for a long time trying to talk myself out
of it until I could wait no longer. Carefully removing it from the
envelope, I discovered several small smudges on the letter. They
looked to be watermarks from teardrops maybe; or maybe she’d
accidently splashed her vodka on it. I crawled up onto her bed,
took a deep breath and began.

Maggie,

If you are reading this
letter, it means I’ve died. Don’t grieve, it’s better this way. I
don’t want you to feel any sorrow for me, just relief because I can
no longer hurt you.

After you were first born,
all my anger was directed inward. I was angry with myself for my
poor choices, and the mess I’d made of things. What kind of mother
gives her child to her parents to raise? It seemed easier to deal
with the guilt if I was drunk. So drink I did. Lots and lots. Only
it didn’t help. I’d sober up, and the self-hate would still be
there.

Over time, I turned my
anger toward you. I’d see you cleaning the house when it should
have been me, and the anger grew. You’d cook the meals and it would
enrage me. You’d take care of me when I was too drunk to stand, and
I became infuriated. I told myself you were judging me, even though
you weren’t. The anger grew until I couldn’t drink it away, and I
let it out. Cold, bitter, hateful words, all aimed at the most
innocent one of all. You.

Even that you took in
stride, never back talking, or rebelling. You just tried harder to
please the truly unlovable one.
ME
. Anyone who’s seen a small
fatu
fraction of your
loving heart must know how truly despicable I am.

We had a
terib
terrible fight
last night, and I called you some horrible names again. After you
left, I tried to drink myself into a stupor so I wouldn’t have
to
pain
think
about the pain I saw in your eyes as you walked out the door. It
didn’t work. Instead, I sat
worying
worried, praying you’d be kept safe.

I’ll bet you didn’t know I
crawled into bed with you Christmas Eve and held you. It felt good
to have my arms around you again, it also felt
hori
hrib
horrible. I knew you were thin, still, I had no idea how thin
you’ve become. I have no one to blame but myself for that. I drink
all our money away, and yet I still won’t give it up.

I’m writing
me
you this now because
I’m afraid I won’t make it to your
seven
eighteenth birthday. I’ve been
having a lot of stomach pain over the past month, and I’ve been
throwing up blood, every day in fact. I’ve been able to keep it
from you. I’m good at keeping the truth from you. I should be since
I’ve done it your whole life. I have
dist
destroyed every chance with
you, and I’m a failure on all levels. I reread the letter from your
11th birthday last night. I never made it to Rehab. I got
completely drunk the night before and didn’t wake up for two days.
What a pathetic mess I am.

Lately, there are times
when I am totally confused, sometimes it’s a struggle to find the
bathroom. Yesterday I went outside to mail the electric bill and
somehow ended up at Gertie’s house. Thankfully, she helped me get
back home, and so you know, she lectured me the entire time about
how lucky I was to have such a wonderful young lady for a
daughter.

Okay, now I’m going to give
you a little advice. I know, how arrogant of me to offer advice,
nevertheless, here it is; no matter what life throws at you,
never
give up. Life is
tough, and there’ll be times when things seem insurmountable. I
can’t tell you how many times I quit drinking. For the first few
hours it was easy, then I’d cave in. I can’t remember having
endured anything. I gave up on love. I gave up on life. I gave up
on me.

My parents weren’t
quitters. They tried hard to help me, never giving up hope that I’d
overcome my trials. They were truly great parents, and I wished I
could have told them that before they died.

I hope you take after them,
Maggie, and I pray you can find the kind of love they had. I
watched as my parents worked through
treh
their problems, never giving up
on each other. I hope you won’t settle for less.

My mother used to tell me,
’When you find that special someone, Barbara, love him as though
your life depends on it.’ I was so caught up in my
dringin
drinking, I
could never see anyone except me and my instant
greta
gratification. It wouldn’t be
far off the mark to say I love booze as though my life depended on
it. I lose. I’m going to die alone with no one to hold except my
cold bottle of vodka.

You make me proud, very
proud. I’m lucky to
be
have been your mother, your weak, reprehensible
mother.

I have to go, I’m starting
to feel sick again. I’ll write more tomorrow,
I promise.

I held the letter to my chest and
cried deep mournful tears. It was as if every painful moment, every
sorrowful thing that ever happened to me was purging itself from my
soul. I wept and couldn’t stop.

I also felt robbed. If she doesn’t
receive a liver transplant soon, we may never have any kind of
relationship. I cried for a very long time, having no idea when the
tears stopped. On waking in the morning, the letter lay crumpled in
my hand, my pillow was still damp with tears, and my head was
pounding mercilessly. I dragged my weary body into the bathroom for
some aspirin, forced down some breakfast, and went out to sit on
the porch.

It was a beautiful morning.
The sun shone brightly, the trees were budding all around me, and
the squirrels were meandering
precariously
along the neighbor’s fence. I sat and watched the wildlife, letting
the sun bathe my face with its warmth until my head stopped
throbbing.

I returned to the letter several more
times, each time trying not to cry, and each time failing. I also
spent time thinking about Seth. I quit on him. The first time a
challenge came along for us, I tossed him aside. Now I was
regretting it; with all my heart.

It was time I got over what
had happened. Though it still hurt, I understood why he kept what
he did from me. Whether or not I agreed with him, the police
thought
my mom and I were
involved, and Seth had a job to do.

I realized I’d set him up to fail me,
mostly because everyone in my life had. From my grandparents who
were killed, though certainly not through any fault of their own,
to a mother who neglected me in every way. I set the bar for
perfection so high, no one could have reached. In so doing, I
forced him into the arms of Hillary.

But not anymore. Hillary was in for
the fight of her life.

I decided it was time to share my
feelings more freely and stop holding back. Okay, that was probably
a little overly optimistic, it was going to take time to change
that part of me. I certainly wasn’t going to go hog wild and start
crying on everyone’s shoulders either, but I needed to start taking
down the walls.

And there was no time like the
present. I was about to phone Seth, then decided this was best done
in person. I pulled on my Lunch Swap jeans and Seth’s favorite blue
tee shirt of mine. I also put on the jacket he'd had given me.
Though not really cold enough for it, I wanted to feel him around
me for added courage.

I arrived at his house in record time,
but he wasn’t there. I debated whether to wait for him, and decided
if I left I might lose my nerve. I sat down on the porch swing and
waited for two hours. He never showed up. Walking slowly back to my
house, sorrow gripped my heart. He and Hillary were probably
together.