A Life Apart
Chapter 17: Confrontations (pg. 95)
Entering the house,
Mirabelle was accosted by a partially muffled siren like alarm. She found its
source under the sofa in the living room. She hung up the phone and called for her
mother. There was no answer. She hurried up the stairs to her mother’s room.
Opening the door, she found the room empty, though eerily echoing the sounds of
wheezing and wining nearby. She rushed to the bathroom where her mother sat on
the floor, pills strewn about her.
“Mom, did you take
any pills?”
Jill looked up at her
daughter through glazed eyes, her face streaked with dried tears. “No, I was
going to throw them out. But I guess I just lost it.”
Mirabelle spied the
cracked mirror and drew her own image of what had transpired. She took a wash
cloth, rinsed it in warm water, and proceeded to wash her mother’s face. She
helped her to her feet, guided her to her bed, stuffed a pillow under her head,
and placed the wash cloth over her forehead. Sitting on the bed beside her
mother, she said, “Mom, I’m okay, really. The doctors say my life can be
ninety-nine percent normal. I just have to be prepared for that one percent.
There are precautions I can take—that I will take.”
Jill placed a hand on
her daughter’s forearm. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I’ve misjudged you terribly. It’s
not just you. I’ve messed up everything.” With those words, she began to cry
uncontrollably.
Mirabelle pulled her
up into a heartfelt hug. “I know it’s been hard for you. Maybe we both have to
start over.”
“Dear, you don’t
understand. I’m a drug addict; and so is my son. I’m a mess. No one would want
to live with me. I can’t blame your father for wanting something else.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This Applee woman, she called looking for your father. She said
Cindy told her he wasn’t in the office. I thought about her visit to our house.
Something didn’t seem right. So I decided to call Cindy. He damn-well was in
the office! Moreover, he had told Cindy not to receive any calls from that woman.”
Jill pulled away from her daughter’s embrace. She was no longer crying. She
raised her voice and blurted out, “Don’t you see what’s happening? He’s trying
to break off a relationship with a younger woman. He’s been cheating on me for
god knows how long!”
“She came here?”
Mirabelle was incredulous. “Mom, he might not have cheated on you. Maybe he was
trying to avoid this woman because he didn’t want her advances. Maybe you’re
misreading the whole thing. You need to hear dad’s side of the story before you
judge him.” In truth, Mirabelle had no better interpretation, but she felt it
necessary to calm her mother. She added, “You need to pull yourself together
and confront him with your concerns—your feelings—before you condemn him. I
know you two have had your difficulties over the years. But I believe he does
love you. Don’t you?
“I don’t know. It’s
been such a long time . . . since we’ve talked.”
“Then, now is that
time. Tell him how you feel, what’s missing in your relationship, what you
think he can do about it. Hear what he has to say. I have a feeling you’ll be
surprised.”
Jill studied her
daughter coolly, her emotional storm seemingly passed. “When did you get all
this wisdom?” Briefly she smiled. Then, turning serious, she added, “What do I
do about Billy?”
“Nothing, he’s
decided to detoxify. It’s what he needs to do. We just support him. What else
can we do? He has to choose his life and then live it, just like the rest of
us.”
“Honey, come down to
the kitchen with me. You can help me with dinner if you like, or just keep me
company.” Jill saw Mirabelle’s momentary look of surprise. “Oh, I gave Betsy
the day off. In my current state, she’s better off free of me.”
Mirabelle grinned,
knowing how Betsy quietly bore the side-spatter of her mother’s emotions. She
descended the stairs behind her mother in order to keep her company, at least
until her father came.
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