We’re pulling into the driveway, and it startles me because I never even noticed that we’d left the parking lot. It’s almost scary how your thoughts can carry you away so quickly yet drop you back into existence so suddenly. Mom parks the car and we both get out, still carrying the ever increasing weight of the silence between us.

We enter the house, and before I can change my mind about it I head for the kitchen, pulling the paper bag open as I go. I toss the bag in the trash as I pass it and take the pill bottle with me as I head to the cabinets for a cup. Pulling one down, I fill it up in the sink and then stare down at the bottle. One pill a day, same time of day. Easy enough.

I open the cap and tip a pill out into my hand, popping it into my mouth before I can think too much on it. I take several gulps of water to wash it down and then stand there for several seconds, waiting. Of course, it isn’t gonna work instantly, stupid. What are you doing?

I put my cup in the sink with a sigh, and turn to find my mother standing in the doorway, watching me intently with something in her eyes that I can’t seem to pinpoint. The look makes something in my stomach clench because it reminds me of how she looked at me a long time ago before everything started going wrong. Maybe it’s worry that sits just below the surface of her blue eyes, and the reason that I don’t recognize it is that I haven’t seen it in so long. Why all of a sudden?

I stand motionless for several minutes, waiting for her to bite at me with her words like she normally does, preparing myself for the sharp jabs of her judgment, but she doesn’t say anything. I swallow the lump in my throat, a hard and uncomfortable venture, and open my arms a bit, silently asking what the deal is.

She finally shifts, her eyes closing off until no emotions remain, her brows furrowing. With a sigh she crosses the kitchen and takes a seat at the bar, patting the stool beside her. Every muscle in my body knots up. Nothing good is going to come from this. I can’t get a read on her and I can’t remember the last time that has been the case. Her aggression has been a tangible entity since dad left.

I cross the room with heavy steps, my legs weighed down by my nerves. I take a seat on the stool beside her, balances precariously on its edge from fear of getting too near to her. I almost fall off when she reaches over and takes my hand into her own, squeezing it tightly. The warmth of her touch startles me almost as much as the tears I find in her eyes when I look up at her.

“I don’t want to keep doing this, Destiny.”

I don’t know what to say in response to that. What exactly is this? The avoiding? The blaming? The aggressive outbursts? I’m at a loss to which thing she’s referring to, so I just raise my eyebrows in question.

“I want us to stop pushing away from each other. We’ve both been deflecting what’s really happening here with anger, and I don’t think I can keep doing it. I don’t think we should keep doing it.”

I tug my hand from her’s, ignoring the tears escaping down her cheeks and her cringe as I withdraw and throw an emotional wall between us. My chest aches so badly I want to scream, because I want that too, I want so much to have my mother back, but it isn’t that simple. Too much has happened, a great flood that unleashed a boundless ocean between us. It’s hard enough to keep my own boat afloat; I dare not approach and capsize from the waves in her wake.

“I know you blame me, but I’m trying to fix this. I know I’ve done a horrible job of showing it. I love you and I just want you to be okay.”

I clench my jaw, a lump in my throat, and brave a look at her. Our eyes connect, and I’m startled at how much it’s like looking into a mirror. Reflected back at me is the anguish I hold within, displayed clearly in a pool of blue that overflows at a steady pace down her cheeks. The lump in my throat forces its way upwards and out as a jagged sob.

I’m quickly enveloped by her embrace, her warmth and scent falling over me with remembrance so strong that something within me shatters. With each squeeze, each petting of my hair, each tear brushed aside, I crumble more and cry harder. Emotion forces itself out, leaving a burn in its wake as it tears me asunder and leaves me breathless. Everything I’d refused to feel for months is leeched out of me and I’m left exhausted.

When we’ve both fallen silent again, she steps back and sits down on her stool, wiping at her face with her hands. I do the same, but fail to get the results I want so I use the front of my shirt instead. Once I’m as presentable as I’m going to get, I turn back to her and she offers me a weak smile.

“Why didn’t you believe me about him?” She frowns but doesn’t look away.

“I just... I didn’t want to see it, I guess. For once, I wanted a man that actually loved me, and I thought that he did. In doing that, I caused what happened and I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I never thought that he’d-” she cuts off, looking distraught.

“I know you didn’t. You didn’t know it would happen, just like you didn’t know dad would be a cheating scumbag, but they both still happened.”

“I’m sorry, Destiny. Please, tell me what to do. I can’t go back and make a different choice. All I can do is try to fix what we have now.” Her eyes are wild, pleading.

I don’t know what answer to give her. I don’t even know how to piece the broken parts of myself back together, let alone try to fix our relationship. Even erasing what happened wouldn’t put things back to how they were. It was dad leaving us that sent everything into motion. He broke both of us. The past broke us both, and I only know one person who uses the past as a road map to mending.

“Maybe you should see Carol, too. Maybe we can go together, sometimes. I honestly don’t know how to fix this,” I mumble, motioning between us, “I want to, but I don’t know how.”

She nods, squeezing my hand again. “That’s a good enough answer for now.”

I hope it’s a good enough answer for the long run. I’m tired of feeling so alone. I need someone in my corner, even if that person may be as broken as I am. We may sink each other, but maybe together we can rise up from the bottom.