Page 83 of The Good Guy on My Porch

I bit my bottom lip and wrapped my arms tighter around myself, because I felt certain whatever Mary was going to say next wouldn’t be something I wanted to hear. “What are you suggesting?”

She rubbed my back in a slow, comforting circle. “Maybe pampering your mother, giving in to every one of her fears and allowing her to hide from life, is not helping her, Dilly. Maybe she needs your honesty, needs to have to fend for herself for a while to accept that she needs real, professional help.”

“I did that. I left her alone for a week to go on a spring break trip and she almost died.”

“Your aunt told me about that, but things are different now, Dilly. You have me and Norma Jane and Leah and even Betty and we’ll all go and check on your mother and make sure she’s eating.”

“But she gets so upset. No one can calm her down but me.”

“Your aunt told me that, too. But what’s the alternative? Do you just keep doing what you’re doing? Just keep enabling her to never get treatment for her illness?” Her expression hardened, and she stopped rubbing my back. “Every time she has a bad feeling and you lie and tell her that you’ve stayed home, you’re allowing her to believe that her bad feeling was a true omen of impending doom and that she saved you by warning you.”

Her words pierced me like knives, even though they were spoken in a gentle voice. “You think I’ve made her worse by lying to her?”

Her silence was enough to confirm the truth. I considered her words, rolling them over, trying to free myself from blame. Everything I’d done had been to help my mother, all the sacrifices I’d made, all the…But she was right, I realized with a sickening crack of my heart. I’d allowed Mom’s fears to control not just her life, but mine as well as far as she was concerned. I’d made her worse.

“You did the best you could,” she said gently, the back-rubbing resuming. “You did the best you could in an un-winnable situation. I’m not faulting you for that. I’m just saying, maybe it’s time to try something different. Maybe she needs a little push.”

“But what if she stops eating? What if I do something different and it kills her or sends her into a complete mental breakdown?”

“We’ll all be there to help her. And your aunt has found a good doctor who’s willing to come to her if she agrees to it. We won’t let her get to the state she was in when you went on spring break. You can go to New Orleans with Oscar, give your speech, spend a few days in the city, have fun and not worry about her.”

My heart pounded, and my palms got sweaty. I loved the idea of a trip with Oscar, was excited about the idea of having some help with my mother, but I doubted it would work. I’d been disappointed too many times before. “I can’t leave her—”

Mary’s circles turned to pats. “I’m not asking you to leave town tomorrow. How about we start by going to see her and telling her the truth? About everything. Let her know the real you.”

“Tell her the truth?” The words felt like a prayer and an absolution. Like the purest kind of freedom and the biggest risk. Like letting go of something I’d been clinging to tightly for years and letting in the possibility of a better future.

She smiled. “It’s time to stop lying, Dilly. To everyone. Even yourself.”

***

“Mom,” I said, ignoring the severe frown on her face. “Do you have time for a visit?”

Mom might never leave her apartment, but she hadn’t forgotten her manners from her more social days. “How are you, Mary?”

“I’m just fine,” Mary said. “Would it be okay if I came in? Dilly and I would like to talk to you.”

Mom looked down at her over-sized sweatshirt and sweatpants and ran a hand through her tangled hair. It looked as though she’d just gotten out of bed, which could mean she was having a bad day or could mean she’d just taken a nap. “I’m not feeling well. I think it would be better for y’all to come back later.”

I felt bad for her, felt that I was ganging up on her in a way by bringing Mary with me, but I was also determined. If Mary was going to help me, Mom needed to get used to her being around and I was out of ways to help my mother on my own. We couldn’t send her to the home in New England unless she agreed and nothing else I’d been doing had helped her. She was getting worse and I was burnt out. It was time for something to change and the small hope that Mary had given me, the hope that a little push might be all it took to get my mother to step out of her comfort zone, felt like the first light I’d seen in weeks.

“We just want to talk, Mom. We won’t take much of your evening.”

She scowled but stepped back from the doorway and shuffled to the couch. “Well, come in, then.”

Mary followed her, and I shut and locked the door behind us. Mom would freak out if I left the door unlocked and I didn’t want to give her anything else to get upset about. Taking a seat in an armchair across from Mom and Mary, I stared at Mom, trying to put the words together.

Mom narrowed her eyes and clenched her hands tight in her lap. “Can I…Would either of you like something to drink? A snack? I don’t have much, but—”

Mary patted her clasped hands. “We don’t need a thing, honey. Just listen to your daughter.”

Mom flinched from Mary’s touch, but didn’t move away. She looked back to me. Antsiness flowed over me. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t intentionally hurt her. I stood and paced, running a hand through my hair.

“Just start at the beginning,” Mary said in a low voice. “Tell your mother what’s it been like for you.”

I drew in a deep breath and glared at Mary, annoyed with her for making this sound so easy, for giving me hope. This was going to tear apart both me and my mother. Mary smiled back serenely and nodded. “Just start. That’s the hardest part.”

So, I started with something easy. “I had so much fun on that spring break trip, Momma. I laid on the beach every day and swam…The water was so clear and gorgeous. It wasn’t as crazy as you might think…It was kind of wonderful. I met a guy there. A sweet, funny guy and I…I lost my virginity to him in one of the most romantic, perfect moments of my life.” I smiled at her, but she was staring at me, her expression hard and closed off, like she wasn’t hearing what I was saying. “He was going to college up North and we talked about me driving up there to see him and him driving down here to see me. I’d never felt so free and…Happy.” I pulled in another deep breath and glared at Mary again. She was wrong, starting wasn’t the hardest part. Every moment of this was hard. It was like peeling off my skin, inch by brutal inch. “And then I got home, and I went to see you. I wanted to show you the pictures and tell you about it, to let you know I was safe, that I’d never been in danger. But you…” I choked on the words, the memory of seeing her on the couch, so still and pale, like she was already gone, still the worst moment of my life. Still able to choke me up. “You were so sick, Momma. I’d done that to you. I hurt you by leaving you, by going off and having fun and not thinking of you.” I met her gaze, but it was vacant. She was holding Mary’s hands now, gripping them. “I called Aunt Melly and 911, and we got you to the hospital and it…Every moment of pleasure I’d had away on spring break was laced with guilt and turned ugly. I hadn’t been free, I’d been selfish. I hadn’t been losing my virginity to the sweetest boy I’d ever met, I’d been betraying my mother. I never spoke to that boy again, because it felt like it would be a new betrayal of you. And I swore I’d never leave town again, I’d stay here and protect you.”

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