My stomach plummets to the floor dragging my heart with it as all the different possible scenarios of why they could both be crying flood my thoughts. Ethan’s the only thing that makes sense.
“What’s wrong? Is it Ethan? Oh, no…it is, isn’t it?” my voice wobbles and both women rush to speak.
“No!” The pair blurts out in unison, and I almost want to fall in relief. I lean into the door for support and let out an audible sigh.
“What’s wrong, then? Why are you both crying?” They share a look before standing and ushering me back into the room. “We were talking about Frank,” Moira answers, her voice shaky and quiet.
“Oh,” is all I can manage to respond.
She lets out a pained sob as she jiggles her head and looks up towards the ceiling, attempting to control the flow of her tears by biting down on her lip and scrunching her eyes tight. I feel bad for her; she’s in pain, but I still can’t help the underlying stir of anger and resentment towards this woman. Every time I start to feel even a slight semblance of compassion for her, the nagging voice in my head whispers that she doesn’t deserve it. I’m fighting an internal battle.
“Your mom was just telling me that Ethan had confided in you,” she says between sniffing. “Blair, you will never know how grateful I am that he has you. That he’s had somebody to talk to. We’ve never had that. He…he…” Her sentence is cut short by a new wave of tears and my mom takes the few steps to reach her, ushering her into a chair while rubbing her back. I’m still standing. Motionless. I don’t know what to do.
“We barely talk; he feels like I’ve failed him. I see it in his eyes every time I look at him. I need to make it right, and I have no clue how. I love him so, so much. You need to believe that. I’ve only ever loved him; I never wanted this life for him.”
I can hear my own pulse echoing in my ears. “How’s Frank?” I ask out of morbid curiosity. Her head snaps up, and Mom turns to look at me.
“He’s not good, Blair,” Mom answers.
“He was thrown through the windshield when you crashed,” Moira begins. “The doctors said the impact shattered his C1 and C2 vertebrae. He’s suffering from a cervical spinal injury; he’s paralyzed from the neck down.”
My mom had told me he was paralyzed when she first found out, but we didn’t have any details. I thought maybe he wouldn’t walk again. I had no idea his paralysis was from the neck down. I’m still standing in the middle of the room staring at Moira like she’s speaking a foreign language. My first thought was to say how sorry I am to hear that. But I’m not sorry. I’m not anything; I don’t know how I should be feeling. I think maybe I’m in shock.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mom asks, looking concerned. “You’ve gone white as a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I lie. “When are you going to tell Ethan about this?” I ask Moira.
“I’ll tell him this evening, I guess. I just don’t know what to say. The doctors have mentioned not to divulge too much about the accident. They don’t want any excess stress; apparently it would be better for him to remember by himself. I’m worried that when I tell him about Frank, I’ll be setting him back.”
I take a seat on the edge of the bed and contemplate what she’s saying. “You need to tell him, though; it’s not right to leave him in the dark about this.” Keeping things from him is what got us all into this mess in the first place. I don’t say that out loud but she must know it’s the truth.
“I will. Blair, I need to ask you something,” she sighs. I immediately know I’m not going to like this particular ‘something’ from the look marring her face. I raise my eyebrows waiting for her to continue as she looks from me to my mom and then takes a deep breath before beginning.
“I know that Ethan told you about the conversation we’d had about me not being his natural mother.” My heart sinks in my chest in anticipation of what I think I know is coming next. “He doesn’t remember that conversation ever happening, and with his injuries and his dad, and everything else he has to deal with at the moment I just don’t think he’d handle being told again. I’m hoping you can promise me that you won't tell him.”
And there it is…that word, again. I hate it.
“I can’t promise that, Moira. It’s not fair,” I say shaking my head. I can feel my mom’s eyes burning holes into the side of my face. “I just…I can’t lie to him.”
“It’s not lying,” she interjects.
“It’s not telling him the truth, either, though, is it? What happens if he starts to remember things, or asks me what he and Frank were arguing about in the car?”
“Blair’s right, Moira. You can’t ask that of her,” Mom voices as she switches places and sits beside me so that we’re both facing Moira now.