She embraced me at the airport, all refreshed and tanned, false tears of joy blurring her eyes. My whole life I thought she cared. I thought she did but just was built from a different material. Maybe, whoever my dad was, I got his painfully strong empathy. But no. I don't think she's capable of it. She's responsible. She would never have left me on someone's porch with a note pinned to me, but that's all I was—am—to her, a responsibility. It's why she put Johnny away. Carter may think it's because it's for the best, but her motivations aren't like Carter's. If it's for the best, that's a convenient side effect.
I let her hug me, I let her fill the car with talk of the trip as I stared out the window and watched the world pass me by. A lump formed in my throat, recalling the way I watched what I could from the windows the day Sam let me go.
Let me go.
Anger has begun to wear off to something else. I could have turned him in. He told me everything about his life. He could have murdered me in that forest and no one would have ever known. But he let me go. I think I am supposed to appreciate that. I'm trying to. But it still feels like he abandoned me.
“Is it not good?” she asks.
“Hmmm?” I look up from the London broil and peas I have been scattering along the plate. It's just okay. “It's good,” I answer before she can answer.
“I got it because I know it's your favorite,” she says, like she's trying to prove we have this special bond.
“My favorite is strip steak.” I enjoy the way she uses her napkin to wipe her mouth and shifts in her seat when I say that.
“Well,” she sighs, tilting her head, a little nod to the less than warm greeting I have given her, “I was expecting a little more excitement for us to all be together.”
Ha! Things like this are supposed to bring families together, right? Because I have never felt further from anyone at the table.
“Not everything exists to make your life that much more pleasant,” I snicker.
Her fork and knife crash to the plate in protest.
“That's not what I meant.”
I just keep looking at the limp brown meat and dull peas. Orange is a terrible choice of background for these colors.
“Carter, I picked up some fantastic cigars on the trip. Why don't we share one in the backyard?” Peter, my stepdad, asks.
Carter looks over to me, waiting for a signal. I can feel it, but I don't look up. “Uh, yeah sure,” he accepts hesitantly.
Once the men leave the room, mom dives right in. “Listen, Vesper. I can't imagine what you've gone through but—”
“You haven't even mentioned him. Not once, not his name,” I seethe, still looking at the plate.
“What?”
“Your son.”
She lets out a sigh, like she's been holding this one in all night, wondering when she could let it out.
“Honey, I didn't know how to bring it up. You don't seem in good spirits. I didn't want to upset you.”
I laugh sarcastically, finally meeting her eyes. “You put him away. You got rid of me, and then you were finally able to do the same for him. I bet you were thrilled when you heard I was back.”
“How could you even say such a thing? You really think that? That I didn't want you back?”
“Who the hell waits over a week to come home when they find out their kidnapped, presumed-dead daughter has resurfaced? You think that's normal?”
“You know there were circumstances. We were in the jungle!”
“And what about when you returned? You finished out your trip!”
“I don't have to listen to these cruel accusations. The flights were booked.”
“Then don't. But don't lie to me. I've been through too much. I've seen too much of the truth to be lied to like some idiot.”
She shakes her head for a moment, her mouth curled into a deep frown. “You know you've always seen things in such simple terms. Not everyone is an angel like you. Not everyone is capable of giving that kind of constant sacrificial love. We all aren't wired like you.”
“I'm no angel, mom.”
“Then what gives you the right to sit there so smugly and judge me? I've done my best. I was alone with you. And I think I did a pretty decent job of raising you. And with Johnny, I just—I can't handle him. When you were taken, I couldn't handle it all.”
“So you ran away, like you always do—” The lump in my throat returns unexpectedly. Not because of her, but because of Sam. He left me just like she did.
“I don't know what you want, Vesper. Was the world supposed to stop moving because you were gone? Was I supposed to stop living?”
“You said I was dead a few weeks in. You didn't even give me a chance,” I scold. “You can justify it all you want. But just be honest with yourself. You were glad to be relieved of the burden for the first time in decades. To be that woman in the commune fucking every dick she could find.”
Tears fill her eyes and she shoots up from her seat, marches over to me and slaps me across the face.
I stand tall. “You think that hurts? You think that's pain?” I grab the steak knife and hold it to my forearm.
“Vesper!” she shouts.
“I could do this and I wouldn't even feel a thing!”