Page 36 of Haven't Killed in Years
“No, I mean I’m sorry that I’m your mother.” Her head dropped and she broke down a bit. “I should never have had you.”
I knew that, but I could have lived without hearing it. There was an uncomfortable silence as I saw her wheels turning, trying to make sense of her old life.
“I was in love with your father,” she continued. “So in love, and I did horrible things. I bought into it. I believed he saw something the rest of us couldn’t…and he wanted a child.”
“That must have been a relief, then, once you got to sign away your rights to me.” It was bratty of me to say, but c’mon.
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was very hard. But I was going away for a long time and…”
“And he told you to do it.”
She sighed. “Do you think you can ever forgive me?”
She was trying to be the better person I was sure she had told herself she would be once she got out. Living in the postprison honeymoon phase, she still believed she had changed; I didn’t buy it. “Probably not,” I said.
Her face contorted; she wasn’t expecting me to be so blunt. It wasn’t her fault. How could she have any idea who I had become over the past twenty years?
“Don’t get emotional,” I said. “We don’t need each other. We never needed each other. You were Abel’s wife and I was his child, not yours, not really. I know you think you’re supposed to feel guilty about everything, but I know you don’t feel that way and I’m telling you it’s okay. Believing you’re supposed to feel a certain way is exhausting. If Abel taught us anything good, it’s that. Just exist as you are until it’s over.”
She stared at me like I was a freak of nature. I counted the creases across her forehead as she processed how the hell to follow that up.
“Reanne,” I said. “Relax. Do you need a cigarette or something?”
“You look like him in the eyes,” she said. Kind of a rude thing to say considering my father’s wonky eye. “They move so fast and then they just stop when you get real into yourself. I’m not a great person and you can hate me, but you be careful. If you have to take after one of us, maybe I ain’t so bad.” She stood from the chair and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table.
My newly righteous mother trudged into the kitchen to blow her smoke out the window. I picked up the remote and turned the game back on. My eyes stopped moving? That wasn’t even a thing. Maybe it was the contacts.
- - - - -
I stayed with Reanneand Gustus for two solid nights. I did my best to not think of Reanne as my mother and it helped. We didn’thave any more conversations like the first one. She didn’t ask her husband to leave again. Gustus was actually funny. He was definitely lazy, but his social commentary was spot-on. So was his self-awareness. Every sick burn started with “I know I’m nobody worth sayin’ this, but…” followed by something some person on TV shouldn’t have said or worn or done. Fifty consecutive hours is a long time to spend with two people. I had established my place on the couch and we had worked out our group pizza-topping dynamic, but after breakfast on Sunday, Dominic called and Carol had to go.
It had taken Dominic a long time to contact me again after our trip and I was starting to get offended and self-conscious. I was less worried that something had happened to him and more worried that he had lost interest in me. Marin was the object of his obsession, but if he was innocent in all this, he didn’t know I was Marin. To him I was just Gwen. Was Gwen a party pooper? Was managing all these secrets making me boring? Why couldn’t he be interested in a different serial killer and then I could offer my own theories and give hilarious anecdotes instead of constantly negating him? But if it were any other serial killer, would I still be interested in Dominic? I was all right with this being a completely toxic relationship as long as the toxicity was reciprocal. I called him back as soon as I got into my car.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Hi, yes, I missed a call from this number.”
“Funny,” he said. “You were the one who messaged me that you were going out of town.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like you couldn’t have texted or something.” I had to let this go.
“Sorry, I can be flaky when I get into something.”
“So what had you so engrossed?” I knew it was me. Well, not me, Gwen, the clingy girl complaining he wouldn’t return my texts, but me, Marin, the girl he thought was killing everyone.
“Can you blow off work tomorrow?” he asked.
“Are you serious? Attendance is not voluntary.”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s aWhy?”
“I can’t tell you yet because you’ll never agree.”
“But you think I’m going to agree to that?”
“Yes, because you’re curious.”
