Page 16 of Break Point
I’m using theListen to Mom Talk and Let Her Tire Herself Outtechnique. She’ll eventually trail off or finish her drink and hang up to get a refill.
I can’t let her get under my skin. I have enough on my plate as it is.
“Speaking of …fixations,” she says with a chuckle, carrying on with the monologue. “Henry’s father passed away last December, and Dora, bless her, has been having such a hard time dealing with his death.”
I ignore the dig about me being fixated on Henry because:Mitch is dead? Since December?
Jack Mitchell was Henry’s dad, but everyone called him Mitch. I’m pissed that I wasn’t informed about this earlier. But my brain’s run out of adrenaline, so I can’t add my mom’s insults to my long list of concerns.
I’m about to ask her for more details about his death, but she’s rambling, and I can’t find a single opening to ask a question.
“You know how much your father cared about Mitch. They were like brothers,” she says, trying to sound sad. Or maybe she is, it’s hard to tell. “That’s why we thought it was best to bring Henry back to New York and support him during this difficult time.”
We?
I doubt she had anything to do with that decision. She probably only found out earlier today that he was coming.
“Things had been tough financially for the Mitchells since beforeMitch’s death, so Dora needs to keep her job in Chicago, which isn’t paying enough to cover their expenses. And I’m not supposed to say this,” she whispers, though she’s likely home alone, “but your father made a deal with Henry. He’ll pay him a generous salary to coach you. That way, he can save some money for college.”
There it is.
Dad wants to support Henry financially, so this coaching thing is a flimsy excuse to pay for his studies without making Henry feel guilty about taking the money. In a nutshell, it’s all improvised and last minute. And I’m supposed to play along with this?
“Why doesn’t Dad just give Dora the money to pay for Henry’s college?”
“He offered to pay for everything, but Henry refused. He wanted to earn the money himself. You know how Henry is, such a kind and responsible boy. You might not remember him though; it’s been years since you two last saw each other.”
She chuckles again, slower this time, as if amused by something only she understands.
She’s right about that one. I don’t think I know Henry anymore.
The situation is worse than I thought.
I feel like shit about Mitch dying, and I’m worried sick about Dora and her financial troubles. I don’t understand what happened to make them end up with all these issues. So much so that I can’t make myself care about my mom taunting me about Henry.
Part of me wants to go inside and give Henry the tightest hug in the world, but I can’t, because my mom is right: I don’t know how to let things go. I’m still clinging to the pain of Henry abandoning me, to the idea that he never cared about me the way I cared about him. So I wonder if I’d be wasting my time and energy trying to be sympathetic. Knowing me, I’d probably make him uncomfortable.
Henry is here for the money.
I don’t know what to do or how to act. I want to be able to stay angry at him. Freely. But now I can’t, not after learning about his father’s death and their financial troubles.
It bothers me. It shouldn’t.
“Anyway,” Mom says after a brief pause. I am not one to discuss theinner machinations of my brain with her. Ever. “Expect your father to arrive with Henry any minute now.”
Right. She’s operating in a different dimension entirely. But I prefer it that way. She stays in hers. I stay in mine.
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “I have to go.”
“Oh, okay! Goodbye … sweetie,” she says in that forced tone that practically screams,Trying to bond with my teenage daughter,even though we both know it’s almost eighteen years too late.
I end the call and reach my apartment door, determined to leave the past behind. I want to be a better person. And as much as I hate when my mom’s right, I have to admit she’s not wrong about my grudge against Henry. He might need our support, or at the very least, it could help ease the stress and difficulties Dora’s facing.
“Todo bien,mi amor?”?1 Dad asks as soon as I shut the door behind me. I nod, but no, nothing’s okay.
Everyone’s sitting around the dining room table eating pizza. Liam’s pizza. It’s giving whiplash. Dad says Liam can’t come over, but his food gets a VIP pass? And I’ve said it before: when I’m spiraling, everything feels like a personal attack. This scene is no exception.
“I got a call from the Grand Slam Board earlier,” Dad says, setting his half-eaten slice of pizza back on the plate. “Why don’t you grab a pen and sit down?”
