CIRCE
Dealing with my history, reminding myself that our accidents make up who we are, I gently touch the scar on my leg. It’s my reminder that they were real to me, and they deserve my attempt at being a better person every moment of the day.
Addressing my estranged mother’s sudden appearance was not something I expected to deal with in this setting, but I can do it. At that point in my life, I wanted to forget it all. I changed my name, and closed any ties that could connect me to them. She didn’t deserve the cut. She was only trying to give me the best of everything.
That girl, the one who always wanted more, who wanted to be the best, was so different from who I am now. My self-imposed exile made me understand material things were just that; things. It made me understand how badly I needed a true connection with someone. Sure, with Wyatt, I have that now. It’s been an uphill battle with his condition, for me to understand it and go with the flow, but it’s given me back what I gave away willingly.
I’ve been really short with my mother, acting awful. Arriving on my doorstep, as it were, I was so afraid to talk to her, so I fell back asleep. She said she wanted to be here when I woke up, hoping we could talk more. So far, we’ve just been sitting silently as Sali changed over a few IV bags, cleared up trash on the side table, and brought me in a light meal. I haven’t really touched it, but I have to admit, the Jell-O here is wicked.
“Circe?”
Tucking the blanket down, I scoop up the spoon, along with the bright red Jell-O, and suck back a whack of the luscious treat.
Muffling an answer around the spoon, “Yeah?”
She’s squirming in her seat, trying to figure out how to ask what’s bothering her. “Where have you been? I mean, I know you left the States for a while, but I didn’t know where you ended up. Well, so that this,” she says quietly, flourishing her hands in the air, “happened to you.”
Nodding a response, I resign myself to the line of questioning I knew would be inevitable. “I ended up on a longer road than I can explain in one sentence. Suffice to say, I was living in Cardiff for a couple years, and I’ve only just gotten back in the States.” Mouthing the spoon, pulling in a couple servings of the red goodness, I scrape the bottom of the now empty cup, wishing there was more. The rest of the food on the tray is indescribable. It might have once been a chicken breast and soft pasta in sauce, but it smells odd, and it’s not very appealing.
Laying the empty cup and dirty spoon on the tray, I grab up the glass of water and drink it down, as if it’s the last freshwater on earth.
“How are you feeling?” she asks sheepishly. Looking over at her, I worry about what to tell her. She seems nervous and awkward. To tell her that my insides are burning, and that my arm is ice cold would seem petty. Most of all, my heart is broken not knowing what’s happened with the others. I don’t know how to tell her how badly I’ve missed everything about her, and that I’m really glad she’s here.
“Tight,” I tell her. “My chest is very tight. The worst thing, honestly, is the itch in my hand. I can’t reach it in this stupid cast.”
Smiling, reaches down into her oversized purse and pulls out a metal nail file. I squeal with delight.
“Oh, sweet heaven. You’re a genius!” Handing me the petite silver bliss maker, I can almost taste the relief. Taking it in hand, I place it just inside the edge of the cast near my thumb and move it back and forth. It’s hard to shift it gently without scratching my skin off, but every time it hits the right spot, it’s orgasmic. Until it slips.
“Circe, you look encumbered. Will you let me help you, please?” Trepidation is displayed across her features. She’s afraid to offer assistance, or to offend me. Fuck, I feel horrible. Extending my arm out, positioning the open side closer to where she sits, my mother gently appeases my itchy skin.
We haven’t seen each other in years, and I’m not sure what’s happened in all that time in her life, or in Dad’s, and how they’ve been since I left them behind without a word. Locking the feelings down before I cry inconsolably, because to be totally honest, I want someone to confide in and talk to. Hell, I want to know the truth. But that’s not her issue, and pushing it on her won’t fix it. Patience is what I need. I need tons of patience. The best I can offer her right now is a starting point on repairing our relationship.
“And I thought bringing you a good coffee would be a welcome respite.” Poking her head around the curtain, I’m relieved to see my friend.
“Did you happen to find—”
“Psh! Of course I found you a triple mocha, half-caf, nonfat latte. Who would doubt me?” Smiling at my mother, I take in the confusion in Carli’s eyes.
Tears threaten to spill out as I take the glorious smelling concoction from her. “I missed you.”
Sarcasm lights her features. “Well, who else would know your likes and dislikes, Raggedy Ann?” Pulling over a chair, she reaches a hand out to my mom. “By the way, I’m the best friend, confidant, and all ’round better half to Circe. You must be related.”
Carli knows some things about me. Not much, as I kept it pretty locked down, but even an idiot could see the resemblance. “Carli Katana. This is my mother, Natalie Matcheson.”
Seeming offended with my introductions, Carli extends her hand across the bed for my mother to shake. “Hard to miss the resemblance.” Turning to me with a WTF look, Carli quips off like she does in awkward situations. “I always figured you weren’t hatched in an incubator, so someone had to be your mother.”
Mouthing to her that I’ll explain later, I sip my coffee. Sweet, addictive, and totally required.
“Kubanwan.” Turning toward my mother, with a confused look on my face, I listen as she speaks Japanese.
Returning the greeting, Carli bows slightly, grinning from ear to ear.
“You know Japanese?”
“Sukoshi.” Winking, she releases Carli’s hand and returns to the nail file.
Kicking back on the chair, placing her black pumps on the bed beside my legs, Carli turns. “So, wanna tell me why I can’t tell you anything about anything? What’s with the lawyering up before I visit?”
“I wish I knew. Mom said she’s sworn to secrecy too. It’s driving me crazy.”
Sipping her green tea—because that’s all Carli buys—she blatantly avoids me, just like my mother has.
“Come on. Someone has to tell me something.” Now that I’m receiving my caffeine, I’m even more adamant about knowing.
“Sorry, no can do. Strict disclosure confidentiality clauses. The lawyers in the hall, with police—who are sexy as fuck, I might add—are very good at listening in I’m told.”
Fuck. I thought for sure Carli would be the one to give up something. Knowing patience with Carli is a necessity, I’ll just have to butter up her ass later. “Thanks for the coffee at least, Car.”
Sipping it slowly, prolonging the savoury treat, I’ll wait to see if she’ll give me more. The girl cannot keep secrets.
Ever.
I lift my hand away from my mother. “Thanks. That’s good.” I tuck it back in the bed before the cold from the air conditioning sets in.
“What’ve you been doing for fun here as you waited for my blazing personality?”
My mother grins, trying to hide the laugh that’s forcing its way out. Carli has no idea that she’s the entertainment. Always prim and proper, my mother has never been someone who took to someone like Carli. Her friends are direct, crass and richly appointed, always very contained in their conversations. Sarcasm and wit haven’t had a place in her lifestyle.
“How about I leave you two alone for a while?” my mother says, gathering her purse and rising out of the chair. “I’ll leave the file for you, just in case you need it again. “Hajimemshite.” Bowing herself sharply, I’m still in utter shock as Carli returns the greeting.
Waiting until my mother leaves, I smack Car on the arm. “What the fuck was that?”
“Your mother is very polite.” Sipping her drink again, I sit in awe of what the hell just happened.
“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”
I wait. And wait. And wait. “Carli! Tell me something. Please,” I plead.
“Sorry, can’t.” She purses her lips and tightens her jaw. I know there’s nothing she’ll say. I’m wasting my breath, for now. “But I brought you this.”
Pulling up her oversized Louis Vuitton, she produces the LA Times. “I couldn’t love you more. Unless you’re hiding a mint chip cookie in that bag too.”
“Who do you think I am?” Presenting the paper bag, I know she’s thought of everything for this visit.
Placing it on the travel table, I open the Times. Flipping through the first few pages, there’s only the arts, sports (both butchered), and the entertainment section.
“You know you’re a horrible friend, right?”
“It’s the best I could get in here. They tore it apart. I’d hid it in my fashion magazine, but I’m betting I’m not the first to attempt it. Sorry, lover, but I can’t lose my job with the Gov for smuggling. I had to fight the plain clothes outside the door just for the first few pages of the newspaper.” Patting my arm, she tries to soothe my injured soul. “They’re hiding it for a reason. I can’t help, love.”
“You’re the second person to say that today.”
“Well, at least you know it’s not her fault you’re clueless.” True.