“Parents love their children, Cecelia, even if some are incapable of showing it the way they should.”
“Why are you defending him? I don’t get it.”
“I just hoped you living with him would change things.”
“He lives here, in Charlotte. I haven’t seen him since the 4th last summer.”
“What?! Jesus, Cecelia, you’ve been alone in that house this whole time?”
“Basically. Kind of. I’ve made…friends.”
“Cee, how did I not know this?”
“I didn’t want to bother you with it. Nothing you can do about it anyway.”
I hear her sniff.
“Mom, don’t cry. I’m fine. A few more weeks and I’m out of here. I’m coming home. I’m going to UG, so you’ll see me all the time.”
“I feel terrible.”
“Don’t. This is why I didn’t tell you. There’s no reason to feel guilty. He doesn’t, I’m sure.”
“He does. I know he does.”
“I think we’re talking about two totally different people.”
She sniffs again, cursing under her breath. “Damnit, Roman.”
“Mom, send me your info, okay?”
“No. What kind of mother would that make me? Me and Timothy are doing just fine. We’re thinking about buying a house on the lake.”
“Well, now you can have it—Roman’s treat. And then you can go to Mexico and celebrate with a margarita in hand. We’ve never taken a vacation. Promise me you will. Promise me. And promise me when you get back, you’ll see about talking to someone.”
“Cecelia—”
“This isn’t up for debate, Mom.”
“Jesus, bossy. What’s gotten into you?”
“One too many,” I reply, knowing she’ll understand.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m not ready, okay? And I don’t think you would believe it if I told you. I’ll be next in line if your shrink’s any good.” I stand and open the curtain to my hotel room and get a clear view of my father’s building across the street. My father owns a skyscraper, and Mom and I ate mac and cheese with hot dogs cut up in them to make it through to her next payday. She’ll never have to do that again unless she’s feeling nostalgic or gets high. That knowledge alone is worth every trial I’ve gone through this year.
“Please, Mom. Please let me do this for you.”
“I can’t, Cecelia. I’m sorry. It feels wrong. It is wrong.”
“It’s not.”
“I’m hugging you so tight, kid.”
“Mom, wait—”
“I love you.”
I sigh, deciding to fight her on this another day. Technically, I don’t even have the money yet. But I will win this battle. “Love you too.”
I take another nip of whiskey and lay back on the bed. A different bed in a different world where I don’t masturbate to thoughts of the boogeyman. A world where things aren’t so complicated, where I’m free to do as I please.
And suddenly freedom doesn’t seem so appealing.
I don’t sleep at all.
My father joins me in the conference room where I’ve been waiting for nearly an hour before he takes the seat next to me. I sip my water, feeling his eyes on me as I stare down at the stack of papers on the table, still unable to grasp the enormity of what he’s giving me fully. “How are you, Cecelia?”
“Fine, Sir,” I reply, straightening my posture in my seat.
“How is the plant? Better with the improvements?”
“It’s good, Sir.”
“Did the lawyer brief you on what you’ll be signing for today? Do you understand—”
“Yes, Sir.” I fight the urge to thank him, but I never asked for it. When I finally lift my eyes to his, I see he’s regarding me carefully.
The last time I saw him, I’d snubbed him, too pre-occupied with the men in my life, and too resentful to take him up on whatever he was offering that day. The conversation with my mother had me thinking all night of ways to try and approach this, but I decide to go with brutal honesty.
It’s now or never.
“Please help me understand this.”
“Understand what?”
“You,” I reply simply. “Why do this?”
He drops his gaze to the paperwork. “I told you why.”
“So, this is a payoff? Because you didn’t want to raise me?”
His flinch is barely visible, but I don’t miss it. “This ensures you’ll be financially secure for the rest of your life and, if managed properly, beyond the lives of your children.”