Broken and Screwed 2 (BS #2)

“Mom,” I whispered. I was reeling. Everything was being pulled up inside of me and it was swirling into a massive storm. I couldn’t do much except sit there and listen. Everything would settle once again. I hoped it would.

“Your father made them break up. I think he scared Claire away and I think she stopped talking to your brother. It wasn’t good, honey. It wasn’t good at all. We found later that the reason Ethan wanted us to meet her that night was because she was pregnant. I was going to have a grandchild.” She stopped and bowed her head. The wine was pushed away and she began weeping into a cloth napkin.

Jesse found my hand under the table.

I clung to him. It was all I could do.

We listened as she continued to cry. As we sat there, I lost track of time until she had regained control. When she looked back up, I barely recognized my mother. She was broken, but she wasn’t the mother who had raised me. She wasn’t even a shadow of that woman. This person was a stranger now.

She gestured to the wine bottle beside Malcolm’s seat. “Jesse, pour me a glass. I need it tonight.”

He did and when he handed it over, her arm had the shakes. She didn’t care. She didn’t flinch as she guzzled more of the alcohol. “As I was saying,” her eyes grew haunted. “That was the beginning of the end. For me and for your brother. Ethan got a letter. She served him with a restraining order to stay away from her and the baby. I didn’t know about that letter until later, but it broke my heart. I think it broke him too. He got depressed. He got really depressed. I think he was doing drugs. He started having new friends.” Her eyes glanced at Jesse. “I know you two started fighting.”

“Benson wasn’t a good influence on him.”

She nodded, her hand trembling as she lifted the glass again to her mouth. “He gave me the letter at his graduation. I didn’t open it until that night. That was his instructions. He said, ‘Mom, don’t open this until tonight. You’ll know when.’ I got so scared, but then I thought maybe it was a good thing. I think I didn’t want to read what he wrote. I was scared. I failed him as a mother. If I had read it, I could’ve stopped him. If only I had read that damn letter…”

Jesse leaned forward. His arm dropped from mine. “He gave you a suicide letter?”

She couldn’t talk so she only nodded. Her tears were cascading down her face now.

A look of horror came over him.

I frowned. “What is it?”

He looked over, but gave me the slightest of head shakes. He didn’t want to tell me, not then, not in front of my mother. She didn’t even notice. She had crumpled forward over the table. Her shoulders shook as she wept into the table, the sounds muffled from the tablecloth.

My mother was done for the night.

We both knew it and we both had to help her leave the hotel. She was so thin, I wondered if she ever ate anymore. Her legs were wobbly from the wine and she grabbed a hold of me. Mumbling apologies the whole way to the car and to the hotel, she kept repeating the same thing as she clung to me. “I lost my marriage, my son, and my grandchild. I lost them all. I’m so sorry, honey. I lost everything.” Then she repeated the same sentiment over and over. “I lost my marriage, my son, and my grandchild.” When we finally got to the hotel and learned my father had checked out and left, Jesse brought my mother to his house.

Derek and Kara were still awake.

She gasped softly when I helped my mother into the house, but it only took one look between the couple before she nodded to me. “She can stay in Derek’s room. I’ll sneak him into the dorms.”

“Are you sure?”

She reached out and pressed a hand to my arm. She was fighting back her own tears as she squeezed my arm. “I’ve never been so sure of something in my life. Your mom can stay as long as she needs to.”

And then I broke down.

My mother went to Jesse, still mumbling the same phrase, and Kara gave me the tightest hug I had ever received. She pressed me close and her hand cradled the back of my head. Then she rocked me back and forth, as I finally let my own tears fall free.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

My mom called a cab for herself the next morning. She was gone by the time I woke. I never heard from her again. I assumed she had gone back to my father, who blocked me from his email, his Facebook, his phone, his everything. I felt dead to him.

Jesse asked how I was every day, but it was the same answer. I was fine. If I were being honest, I’d tell him that I hadn’t processed anything. I didn’t think about my brother killing himself. I couldn’t imagine the letter he gave my mother. I didn’t want to know about the extent of his depression. And I really couldn’t handle knowing that there was a little Ethan in the world somewhere that I couldn’t hug, but I found myself staring off at my brother’s portrait when I’d be at the dining table or in the living room. Both rooms were positioned so I had a clear view of him.

It hurt.

My brother had hurt me. Again.