Before I Let You Go(100)
“This is my fault.”
“Stop, Lexie. Annie was tortured. I don’t know why this happened. Who can understand these things? I know one thing for sure—you tried to help her. You did everything you could have done—you were as patient you could have been—you gave her every opportunity to find her feet. And it didn’t work, and it’s unfair, and it’s brutal, but it is also not your fault. I don’t ever want to hear you say that again, okay?”
I try to take what he says to heart, and sit there silently as the crowd begins to thin out.
Finally, I’m left alone in my living room with the small circle of my family—Anita, Mom, Sam and Daisy. The moms clean, while Sam and I sit with Daisy. The table is full of half-eaten trays of food, there are prints on my floor from a dozen muddy feet, and outside the sky is as gray as the feeling in my heart.
Annie is really gone. And somehow, I have to move on.
I decide that afternoon that I’m going to keep Daisy. I’m already her legal guardian, I have bonded with her and I have effectively been her mother anyway—besides which, there is no alternative. Mom is not offering, and even if she did, I wouldn’t take her up on it. The last thing in the world I want is Annie’s daughter to live in that same stifling environment that damaged her so badly. I promised Annie that I would never let her daughter near Robert, and I’ll honor that promise. But I also decide to keep this decision to myself until I can talk to Sam after Mom is gone. A day passes, and another, and I wait for Mom to announce that she is leaving.
But Mom lingers in my life as if she can’t tear herself away—and I wish that she and I were close enough for me to ask her what her plans are. Although we’re together all day, we don’t talk much. Mom changes diapers, she joins me at doctor’s appointments—she even gets up for Daisy in the middle of the night a few times. I have no idea how to interpret her actions, but soon my mom has been in our home for a week. The only concession she makes to her real life back in Winterton is a quick phone call back to Robert each night. She cooks a lot—baked goods, elaborate dinners, even hot breakfasts some days before Sam leaves for work. It’s an odd thing, because I know what a big deal it is for Mom to eat with us, but since that first cup of tea she hasn’t even hesitated about it. Like so many things in my house that week, my curiosity about Mom’s relaxed approach to the rules remains unspoken.
I want to ask her if things have changed in Winterton since I left, or if she’s just adopted a more moderate interpretation of the rules. I can’t imagine Robert allowing either possibility. We have never talked my decision to leave Winterton. I wonder if she understands why I did. Would we get into an argument if I brought it up?
I’m still too tender—still looking for places to allocate blame and guilt and too frightened to dig deeply into anything with Mom in case I shatter our fragile truce. So I don’t ask, and she doesn’t offer, and instead we share hours of small talk and mutually fuss over the baby.
On the one-week anniversary of Annie’s funeral, Sam, Mom and I are sitting around eating lasagna Mom prepared, when she asks without warning, “Will you legally adopt her?”
I feel Sam’s eyes on my face, and I know that I should say that he and I need to talk about it—but I’m also suddenly terrified that Mom has decided she wants to take Daisy after all. So I clear my throat, and I say, “She’ll stay with me—I’m already her guardian. Down the road, I’ll organize something more formal—an adoption, I guess.”
Mom nods curtly, then she leans back in her chair and says, “I’m going to go tomorrow. Robert has booked my flight. I’m needed back at school.”
“Fine,” I say.
Mom rises to clear the dishes from the table. Ordinarily, Sam or I would offer to help—but not tonight. Sam stares at me, apparently completely speechless.
I open my mouth to defend myself, but he rises abruptly and he raises his hands in disgust, and then leaves the room.
I take Mom to the airport. Sam is back at work and I haven’t spoken to him since dinner. He slept in the study again, and I know I’m going to have to talk with him as soon as I get home, and I’m dreading it. Mom picks up on the tension, and as soon as we’re in the car, she asks, “Is everything okay with Sam?”
“Everything is fine,” I lie.
“And are you okay?”
No, I’m definitely not okay. My sister is dead, my fiancé is pissed at me and I’m suddenly a mom.
“I’m fine, Mom. Things will go back to normal now, but I’m so glad you could come.”
Mom offers me a slightly hesitant smile.
“It . . . it was good of Robert to allow me to come.”
I groan impatiently.
“Mom.”
“You know I chose to submit to him, Lexie. It’s not always easy walking the path of righteousness.”
There is no point arguing with her, but now it’s awkward again between us. We drive in silence the rest of the way to the airport, but when the time comes for us to say goodbye and she cries as she gives Daisy one last kiss, I actually battle the urge to ask her to stay. I impulsively pull her close for a tense hug, and I struggle to hold back my tears.
“Will you come back and see us?” I whisper hoarsely.
“I don’t know,” Mom admits. “I’ll ask Robert to pray about it.”