onto the table. On my lap, Evelyn starts to fuss. “I will continue to believe it whether you want me to or not.” My mother gives me a sympathetic look and that just fuels my anger. My voice starts to rise. “He comes every night at eleven. He tells me—”
My mother looks around, as if we’re under surveillance, then interrupts me and says quietly, “You need to calm down, okay? I’m not trying to upset you.”
Have you ever had someone treat you like you’re less than, even though you know you aren’t? It’s a terrible feeling. It makes my heart thump furiously against my chest. I bite the inside of my cheek and chant in my head, I’m right, I’m right, I’m right, I’m right, I’m right…
My mother and I become quiet. There’s nothing else that I can say, and nothing she can do to erase the tension. She finally speaks up. “Do you want me to leave?”
Part of me does. And a bigger part wants her to stay; if she stays longer than an hour, if she stays for the whole day, then maybe, just maybe, she’ll see Wes.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“Very well.” She ducks her head. “I’ll stay.”
Evelyn continues to fuss so I hold her against my chest, knowing that she is picking up on my frustration and anger. I take deep breaths and slowly but surely, she calms down.
“I have another question.”
“Victoria, if this is about Sinclair again…”
“Of course it’s about him. I have this man who shows up and claims to know me. And then I find out that you’ve been keeping him away…” I take a deep breath and watch my mother carefully. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“I know that this man is nothing but bad news.”
“But—”
“No, you need to listen to me.” She leans in, desperation and fear in her eyes. “All the progress that you have made at Fairfax will disappear if you continue to see him. Do you understand?”
“Who was he to me?” I whisper.
My mother hesitates. “He was and is your trigger point. The root of all your problems.”
“Quit talking cryptically and just tell me,” I plead.
“Victoria, I’m not doing this right now.” She stands up and I follow her, beyond frustrated that she won’t help.
“I can handle whatever you have to say. It won’t break me.”
All right, all right. I’ve stretched the truth a bit, but I’m desperate.
My mother smiles and walks around the table. She reaches out and brushes her fingertips over my cheeks. She puts my hair behind my ear. “Oh, Victoria. Look around you, honey. You’re already broken and there’s not a single part of me that wants to watch you shatter even further.”
There’s nothing but silence between us.
“I’ll see you later,” she says finally. Kissing my cheek, she hurries toward the door as if Hell is nipping at her heels.
“Will you ever believe me about Wes?” I call out.
She stops and turns. “How can I? I know the truth.”
I swallow loudly, dreading the words I’m about to say. “If you don’t believe me, then don’t come back.”
She flinches at my words and so do I.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I really do. Almost everyone else in this place thinks I’m lying and the last person who should feel that way is you.”
She holds her head high, looking as regal and self-composed as she did when I was a kid. Her lips pull into a thin line. The only tell that she’s pissed-off is the white-knuckle grip she has on her purse strap. “Very well, if that’s what you want, then consider it done.”
Without another word she turns on her heels and walks out the door.
“Everyone needs to quiet down!” one of the night shift nurses shouts.
She’s standing in front of the TV, holding a clear bowl above her, filled with small, folded pieces of paper with our names written inside. All but two lights are on in the dayroom; the curtains are closed. The tables are pushed to the sides and the chairs are in three rows of eight, all facing the TV. The screen is blue with a DVD logo slowly traveling around it. For the past ten minutes I’ve been watching the word, waiting for it to hit the corner perfectly.
It’s sad that something like this completely makes my day. Every Thursday is movie night. If you ask a nurse or doctor, they’ll say that most patients are “encouraged” to go. But encouraged is just a dressed up word