Chapter 13
Mom’s Wisdom
In the car, on the way to the store I ask her something I've been thinking about lately. "Do you ever wish that you'd never married him?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my mom snap her head around.
"Who? Your dad?"
I laugh. "Was there someone else you married I didn't know about?"
Now she laughs. "Good point, you just surprised me. You rarely ever want to talk about him."
This is true. My dad, after cheating on my mom for years, filed for divorce and left when I was six. After that, I only saw him a few times a year. He didn't move far, actually just the next town over from where we lived, but apparently he’d divorced our whole family. I remember when I was younger I used to ask about him all the time. When he would come, for one of his rare visits, mom would be left answering questions for the next couple weeks. Seeing him would remind me that I had a dad and that my dad never wanted to see me. It probably would’ve been better if he would’ve stopped coming around completely.
As I got older, I stopped asking questions. I could say I didn't care where he was and why he never came to see us, but the truth is, it hurt too much to think about those answers, especially as a teenager.
“Of course not,” my mom says, answering my question. "I got you and your brothers from him, so no, I don't regret marrying him.”
When she mentions my brothers, I can hear the catch in her throat
Christopher, who is two years younger than me, is off at college in Seattle. He and I were never close, and after Tyler died, he distanced himself further from my mom and me.
My brother, Tyler, was a great older brother… until he started using drugs. He was five years older than me, so I was in the eighth grade when he was a senior. He was a normal teenager. He would drink and smoked pot on the weekends with his friends. Then one night at a party, he was offered cocaine. That night he took the next step which would eventually take his life.
One really good high, lead to a year and a half of chasing that high. When he realized he wasn't going to get that same high with coke, he took another step.
The first time I walked in on my brother shooting heroin, I ran to him, ripping the needle from his arm. I yelled and cried, and begged him to stop. The next morning he admitted himself to rehab. After one week inside, he thought he could do it on his own. It wasn't two months later before I was, again, begging him to stop using drugs. One more trip into rehab, this time he stayed for two months, but he didn't make the necessary changes when he got out, so he fell right back into old habits.
By the time I was fifteen, he was strung out all the time. One day, during one of his rare sober moments I pleaded with him—I literally fell to my knees with racking sobs begging him to choose me, his baby sister, over the drugs. He sat holding me, and crying with me for an hour and promised that the next morning he would go back to rehab. This time we would have a plan for when he got out.
That night, he shot up with the rest of the heroine he had, thinking he would get that one last high.
The next morning I went to wake him, excited for this new beginning. I hadn't told my mom about his latest promise because I wanted to surprise her. I rushed into his room and came to a sudden stop when I saw his cold, dead eyes staring at me. I yelled for my mom, then climbed into bed with him, wrapping my arms around him. I sobbed, holding him like that until the ambulance arrived to take him away.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. "But that's just it. If you'd never married him, and you'd never had us, you would've never lost Tyler."
Although it's been six years, I still have to fight back the tears when I think of him.
My mom reaches over, squeezing my arm. "Have you never heard the phrase ‘It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all’?"
I snort. "Yeah, but I think that's the biggest load of crap. Seriously, some guy, who has never loved and never had a broken heart, is the one who made that up. It certainly wasn't some girl, curled and crying in the fetal position, listening to I Will Always Love You, spewing that shit."
My mom laughs. "You sure have a way with words."
Smiling, I say, "I know, thanks."
I pull into the parking lot and find a spot. I turn off the car then face my mom.
"I guess my view on men is pretty jaded. I've never had one stay, or make me a priority." I shrug. "I just don't think I want to ever give that power to another man."
She gives me a sad smile. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Loving people and losing people is all part of life. I'm sure you’ll fall in love again someday, and hopefully this one will stay, but if he doesn't, you won't be broken. It'll hurt, but we always heal. We're definitely not the same after, but changing is part of life too."
I shake my head. "You’re always so freakin' positive. Where’d I get my foul mouth and negative attitude?"
She pulls me in for a hug. "Keegan, you’ve always made your own way, been your own person. And the guy who will make you a priority will be the guy who loves that most about you. He’ll recognize it as your best quality, and he’ll do anything to make sure he doesn’t lose you… anything.”
I smile, giving her hand a little squeeze, before climbing out of the car. She’s right, I am my own person, and I’ll never change that for anyone.