Page 56 of Levi

“So you’re sober now?” Hannah asked.

Her mother’s eyes brightened, and she leaned forward on the table.

“Yes, I have been for five years now. The AA program truly saved my life. I’ve had to make amends with so many people, but you were at the top of my list, honey.”

Hannah felt the tension in her muscles sink away, a comfortable ease replacing it.

“So it’s all part of the program?” she asked.

Her mother nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s all about reclaiming your power and acknowledging the mistakes you made. I blamed the pack for what happened for so long, with the supposed affair, for what happened to us. Taking responsibility for the drinking and neglect really opened a door.”

Hannah was surprised to feel that her own resentment had vanished, feeling incredibly happy to see her mother content and healthy. She swallowed her pride, then tilted her head the way she used to as a child. She watched her mother’s face as the memory returned.

“The pack thing,” Hannah began, “that wasn’t your fault. I always knew that. It was terrible what they did to you, and I think I wasn’t old enough to understand that.”

She fiddled with the buttons on her shirt as she continued, staring into her mother’s eyes.

“The shame you felt, the financial burden, the loneliness, I didn’t understand that. I just blamed you for everything. I suppose it was easier.”

Abruptly, Hannah’s mother reached for her daughter’s hand that remained on the table. Her skin pulsed at the mere touch of her mother’s skin, warm and consoling.

“None of those things were ever reason enough for what I did, darling,” her mother said sternly. “They were just excuses for drinking away the days and forgetting that someone much more vulnerable needed me.”

Hannah could feel her throat drying up, tears threatening to spill from her own eyes.

“There was Dad too,” she said, her throat scratchy. “That was something else I could never understand.”

The smile on Hannah’s mother’s face melted away as she recalled their shared loss. It was a grief neither had really faced in all of their years of living.

“I know,” her mother said quietly. “I didn’t understand it either. It was like trying to start another life again, except you’re older and you have a child. But that wasn’t a good enough excuse either to drink a bottle of vodka a day.”

Hannah squeezed her mother’s hand back. It was wonderful. It felt like she had found home again, something that had been lost in the junkyard of her heart for years.

“Mom,” Hannah said, voice raspy and sad. “I understand everything now. And I do forgive you.”

“Hannah, you don’t have to say that.”

“I do, though,” Hannah said, touching her heart. “I feel it inside me. It’s not something you can always decide. Sometimes it just happens to you.”

Hannah could see that her mother was about to shatter into violent weeping, as was she. So she rose and came around to the chair, then hugged her mother at the waist. She felt like a child again, holding her mother close and wishing she never had to let go.

They both cried quietly in each other’s arms. The din of the restaurant disappeared for a moment, and Hannah was back in the pack, embraced by a community that understood the very depths of her soul. A weight had been lifted, and it was all because Levi had convinced her she was brave enough to let it happen.

“Thank you,” her mother whispered.

Hannah pulled away, subtly realizing that she needed to get going with Levi. She stood back, wiping her eyes, then handed her mother her phone.

“I have to get going,” Hannah said tearfully. “It’s a long story, something to do with my friend and work. But please, give me your number, so I can call you once I get everything settled.”

Her mother nodded excitedly, trembling as she dialed her number into Hannah’s phone. They gave each other one final embrace before Hannah departed, telling her mom that the steaks there were to die for.

As she walked out of the restaurant, she felt like she could soar like a hot air balloon released into the infinite blue of the sky.

She saw Levi sitting in the car, waiting for her. She knew how her mother had felt, right then and there. The desecration of the soul after a loss was indescribable. What would her life be without Levi?

24

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