them for me.
“Life. Trey. Everything.”
The glitter turned watery and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t want to see my mom teary-eyed ever, but especially not because of me.
“Momma—”
“Adalynn, I want you to listen to me carefully.” I nodded and pinched my lips, afraid of what she wanted me to hear.
Afraid of what would happen if Trey and I went the distance. Afraid of my secret coming out. Afraid of making another bad decision. Afraid of what my dad would do if he knew the truth. Afraid my mom would think I was a weak coward. Afraid my sisters would wonder what was wrong with me that I allowed myself to be abused.
Afraid.
Afraid I’d live the rest of my life lonely in a room full of people because I was the biggest liar on the planet.
Just afraid of everything.
“In life, you have three choices; you let the obstacles you face define, destroy, or strengthen you. That’s it, my sweet girl, those are your choices. Your father’s been fighting a losing battle for about three decades now, and I figure he’ll be fighting it for three more. He cannot shield you from these obstacles and I cannot fight them for you. That’s not our job. My job is to listen, watch, and guide you. Sometimes, sweets, a mother has to stand back and watch her children claw their way out. Sometimes she must watch them struggle and cry and be afraid. And one day you’ll get this—it cuts to the quick having to watch that knowing you can’t step in, all you can do is wait while at the same time wanting so bad to heal the hurts. Waiting for your daughter to reach out and needing her to desperately. I can’t right a wrong when that wrong is being kept from me.”
My spine snapped straight and my stomach roiled and the grilled cheese I had for lunch threatened to make a reappearance.
“So, here’s your chance, Adalynn. Define, destroy, or strengthen. This is the moment you decide if you’re gonna let what happened to you define you. If you’re going to keep looking back and continue to be afraid, or if you’re gonna move forward.”
“Momma,” I muttered then stopped.
It was right there on the tip of my tongue to tell her, give her what she wanted, spill my secrets, and let her guide me. I was so close, I could taste it—the ugly, bitter taste that I’d swallowed so many times.
In the end, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her. I had to beat it back. Telling her wouldn’t strengthen me, it would destroy me.
“It’s right in front of you,” she whispered. “Do you hear me? In. Front. Not behind. Reach out and take it, Adalynn. None of us can get through this life alone. Trey is standing right in front of you, his hand is out, his shoulders are broad, his heart true—give him your pain. He’s ready for it. You took his, he’ll—”
“I didn’t take his,” I denied.
“Sweets, open your eyes and pay attention. A man like him, like your dad, so strong they think they can take on the world, and when they’re reminded they’re flesh and bone, they’re not keen on the reminder. What happened to Trey, horrible. But it was never the external scars that burdened his soul. It’s not my business to know what was tearing him up on the inside. I’m just proud it was my daughter that soothed that ache. Proud that you gave that to him so now he’s ready for you. Let him.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
My mom smiled. It was shaky, it was sad, it didn’t light her eyes, but she gave it nonetheless.
“That’s the beauty of it, sweets, you didn’t have to do anything to give him everything. That’s what love’s all about.”
What do you need from me?
Just this.
That was all Trey needed. Just me.
“Thank you, Momma.”
“I love you, my sweet Adalynn.” She gave me another wobbly smile, then to cut the heavy and bring me back to the light, she joked. “Now, if your dad doesn’t hurry up so we can pull out the RV, air it out, and fix the kitchen sink, I’m gonna do it my damn self.”
“Not a good idea,” I reminded her.
“One time.” She waved her hand in front of her, this time her smile bright and cheery. “And there was barely any damage.”
“Barely?” I sputtered a laugh. “Maybe not to the RV but you took out a cinderblock wall.”
“Whatever.” My mom’s