More silence. There’s nothing I want to say about that, because we’ll end up arguing.
“You love her, don’t you?” he asks earnestly.
I love her so much that I’m miserable without her. But it doesn’t change anything, does it?
Since I’m not ready to share that, I keep it to myself and stare at my motorcycle. All I can think about is Brin on the back of it, squeezing her thighs against me while she laughs excitedly.
“I’m worried about what will happen when I fuck up. Most people haven’t seen love the way I have. I guess that goes for you, too.”
He nods slowly, his eyes trained on an imaginary spot on the ground. “It tends to fuck someone up.” I almost smile when he says that. Almost.
It feels weird to sit here and have a conversation, but for the first time since I was ten, I don’t feel angry. Not at him. Not at anything. I’m just... well, I have every emotion except for anger right now. It’s different... Refreshing now that the loss of my anger is not so scary.
“I’ve already fucked with her head. I didn’t even mean to. I kept saying everything I needed to at some points, but sometimes I’d say things that I didn’t mean to. I kept giving her hope with those few slip-ups, and I kept contradicting myself with my actions. With her, all the lines were blurred and I trampled all over my own rules. And then I stomped all over her heart in the process. I’m just as confused as she is, and it’s all my fault. She was never anything but perfect to me.”
His lip quivers, but he steadies it quickly. “That’s the really good stuff. When you can’t force yourself to detach from someone, you’ve got something rare. You become consumed in the most maddening way, but it’s the best damn feeling there is out there.”
I look at him, feeling hope slip away. “So you had that with Mom but lost it?”
He frowns as he looks down. “I had it with her, but she didn’t have it with me. She loved me, but she didn’t love me like that. Even before she got sick, she never loved me like I loved her. But I took what I could get because I knew what I felt for her was rare. It’s even rarer if you find someone who feels that way about you. It’s a beautiful thing that slips through your fingers if you aren’t paying attention. And believe me when I say it’s hard to ever find again.”
I lean over and prop my elbows on my knees as I try to absorb his words. This is the first time I’ve ever been able to speak about my mother without feeling knots packed with anger. But my body is relaxed and that odd new peace is still coursing through me.
“Brin felt the same way. I don’t know if she still does, but she felt it. And she had to hold it back because she was worried about pushing me away. She kept giving, and I did nothing in return. I filled her full of angst and constant confusion. As shitty as it feels for me, maybe I did her a favor.”
He frowns as he looks over at me, but then he turns his face back straight. “If she felt that way about you, then I doubt you’re doing her any favors by pushing her away. Because I can assure you a feeling like that doesn’t disappear very quickly. She still feels that way about you. Probably always will. If you give it up, you’ll chase that feeling for the rest of your life, but it’s really unlikely that you’ll ever find it again.”
Drama. I’ve tried to avoid it for so long, but right now, it’s in my every path, no matter which direction I go.
“I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No one ever is. And you get there with someone; you don’t get there by yourself. If you’re waiting until you’re ready, you’ll die waiting.”
I actually let that sink in, fully digesting that thought.
“What should I do?” I ask quietly when it all seems overwhelming.
His lip quivers again, and he’s forced to wipe a tear away from his cheek while clearing his throat. This is the first time I’ve ever asked for his advice.
“I think you know what to do, and I pray you make the right decision. I’ve always held out hope for you. You’re on the right path to recovery. Finally. I just hope you don’t wait too long. Life’s too short. Misery is eternal if you allow it to be.”
Life is too short. It’s a cliché line that almost everyone uses. I’ve heard it all my life, yet it’s never struck a nerve until this moment.
Misery. Not anger. No anger at all. Just misery. Painful, heart-wrenching, soul-stealing misery.
“When’s the last time you saw the girl?” he asks, turning his head to look at me.
“Four days ago,” I mutter shamefully.