Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 746(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“My mom died of cancer, and I was away from home for most of her illness,” I blurt. Once I realize what I’ve said, I’m horrified…but I’m stuck. I have to roll with it. “Up until the end, I kept telling myself she wouldn’t die, that she was too young and too healthy. That she would beat this. She’d always been such a go-getter. She tackled everything in life, so I convinced myself this was just a bump in the road. She was always upbeat when I talked to her on the phone. My dad tried to tell me it was serious, but I didn’t hear him.” I pause, frustrated that I’m choked up. “It wasn’t until I came home to surprise Mom for her birthday that I saw how much the cancer had ravaged her and I realized I’d pissed away most of our remaining time together with my denial. I stayed another three weeks. I told her I loved her as she took her last breath.” Tears sting my eyes. Jesus… “Burying her just about killed me. Even as they lowered her casket in the ground, I couldn’t believe she was gone.”
Bethany turns to me, tears shimmering in the dark as she reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “I’m sorry. Have you ever told anyone that?”
I can’t speak, so I just shake my head and squeeze her hand back.
“Not your father or your brothers?”
“Dad was going through enough. My brothers were dealing with their own grief. I listened to them. I knew they needed it, but…” I couldn’t unload on Bret and Bry.
“You don’t have to be that strong for everyone. You don’t have to be alone.” She bites her lip as if debating the wisdom of her next words. “I’ll listen.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry for bringing up something that’s so fucking personal.” I sniffle back the threat of tears that just aren’t manly. “I’m supposed to be driving you home, and here I go, bringing up a downer of a topic. If I keep talking about it, I’ll embarrass myself.”
She squeezes my hand again. “Then I can sit here while you get yourself together. You’ve done a lot to help me. This is the very least I can do.”
I give her a tight smile. “Tell me about your mom.”
“She had me young and raised me as a single mother. A couple of years ago, she married a great guy—a widower—and they moved to Salt Lake. It’s been good for her.”
“You two close?”
Bethany doesn’t answer right away. “Not as much as I wish we were. She was twenty-one when she had me. I think she resented me a little bit for forcing her to adult before she was ready.”
“No one held a gun to her head and made her have sex with your dad, I presume.”
She shakes her head. “I just don’t think she realized how much responsibility being a mom would be until I was in her life. When I was a kid, she always looked for ways to ditch me so she could party. I spent a lot of time with neighbors, babysitters, and my dad. He’s older. And wealthy—or he was.” She turns pensive, frowns. “I think from the time I was little I knew that she enjoyed extorting money from him to pay for my upbringing. Dance lessons, piano lessons, and lots of private schools. Dad wasn’t warm, but at least when we were together he wasn’t looking for ways to get away from me, so I kind of resented her for being a bitch to him.”
Wow. For a woman who’s barely opened up, she’s suddenly shared a lot. And since we’re skirting the topic of her dad, I urge her to go on. “So you’re closer to him?”
She shrugs. “Yes and no. He encouraged me growing up. He made me believe I was smart enough to learn everything I would ever need to do great things in life. Up until the last few years, my mom thought the most valuable skill she could teach me was to squeeze money out of a man’s balls. Apparently, I was a miserable failure at this. Anyway, I think falling in love finally brought her some peace, because she’s a lot better to be around now. She’s tried in subtle ways to make my childhood up to me, but I needed a mom when I was three, not so much now that I’m thirty.”
That’s pretty fucking sad. Through no fault of her own, Bethany paid for her mother’s mistakes. She tries to shrug the pain off as if it’s in the past, but I see it still haunts her.
I caress her hand with my thumb and squeeze her fingers. “I’m sorry. You and your mom have a lot to work through, it sounds like. You have time, though. You can still do it.”