Dylan(86)

Enough. I’ve had enough of my fear. I think of how Dylan fought his own doubts and fear to have me back in his life, and I almost turn back to his room, to kiss him again.

He offered several times to accompany me to my apartment. But this is something I need to do on my own. Face Sean, if he’s stalking me. Face my dad. Face the mess that I left behind and sort it out, meet with my college advisor. Meet with my mom and see how she can help me. She says she’s on my side. Time to check if it’s true.

Time to sort the good from the bad, the truth from the lies.

My time at work flies. Mr. Walker is there, and he spends a long time telling me about the people involved in this project, so I can get a better feel for what I’m supposed to do. He’s a great boss, and I’m grateful he gave me this job. I tell him so, and he smiles.

“You earned it,” he tells me, “with the interest you showed in the project. I choose a person to work for me because this person is enthusiastic about what we’re doing here, and you convinced me you are such a person.”

I spend the rest of my time at the office smiling—and let’s face it, not just because of Mr. Walker’s words.

Dylan loves me. Dylan. Loves. Me.

Unable to sit still any longer, I get up from my chair and do a little jig around my desk. I want to laugh out loud and scream my joy.

The secretary from the adjacent room winks at me, and I sit down quickly. I rub my hands over my flushed cheeks.

“Good news, honey?” she asks kindly.

To love someone for so long, to finally lose hope only to find it again, find out he has loved me all along… “The best.”

I call my mom as I finish up for the day. Darkness is already gathering outside. Winter is at the doorstep, the days growing shorter, but it doesn’t scare me.

Not anymore.

“Oh, honey, I was going to call you, but with everything going on,” my mom chirps on the phone, “it totally slipped my mind. Getting a divorce is a nightmare! I’m right here in Madison. We should go for a coffee today so I can tell you all about it.”

I listen with half an ear at my mom’s adventures with her lawyer. She’s so talkative. Talkative. My mom, who never spoke unless to agree with my dad. It’s amazing and a little bit disconcerting. She talks about the house and how moving out is such a hassle—which reminds me.

“I need to move, too, Mom, find a cheaper apartment. You said something about a fund in my name?”

“A fund, why yes. I told you, didn’t I? We only need to go together, you with your ID and I with mine, and it’s all yours. To use wisely, of course.” A pause. “You sure you want to move out, honey?”

“Yeah. That apartment’s too expensive. I can’t afford it. Besides, I don’t need such luxury. I might even sell the jeep and buy something cheaper.”

“Are you sure about this, Tessa?” Mom’s not happy with this, I can tell, but she only sighs theatrically. “It’s your life and your money. I’m not going to tell you what to do. Both of us had enough of that with your father.”

No arguing there. “Tell you what, Mom. Why don’t we meet at the bank, and then we go for coffee?”

After a hesitation, she agrees, and I set off to meet her. One by one, the pieces of my life will fall into place.

***

Mom waits for me outside the bank. We enter together and activate the account. Mom hugs me afterward, and I hug her back. I tell her I missed her, and it’s sort of true. I’ve never really been close to my parents, either of them. They’re more like distant relations to me, and meeting with them has always been painful and stressful.

This version of Mom… I don’t think I’ve ever met her before. She’s a completely different person. It makes me sad to think she had a mask on for my whole life, a persona that wasn’t really her, to please my father.

“Mom…” I pause outside the bank. There are so many things I want to ask her, things I need to know. “When you fell in love with Dad, how did he treat you? Did he tell you how pretty you are? How he likes your style, or your interests?”

She shoves her hands in the pockets of her fur-lined coat, and gives me a long, measuring look. “He said I was pretty, but he tried to change me, like he tried to change you. He wanted me to do my hair up, dye it, fix my nose, plump up my lips. He wanted me to wear this or that dress, those shoes, that underwear. Then he didn’t like the magazines I read, and said I should read the same books he liked.” She shifts from foot to foot. “Hon, it was a slow process. I wanted so much to please him, hear praise from his lips. But his compliments became fewer and between, while his demands and bad moods increased. I should have left him many years ago.”