* * *
Sean sleepsmost of the day.
The doctors say he’s on some pretty heavy pain meds due to some cracked ribs, but he can go home in a few days.
I don’t know what to do with him. Except maybe choke him. He’s up, he’s down, he’s good, he’s bad. It’s never just a straight line. Am I supposed to be responsible for him for the rest of my life? Am I supposed to help? Should I just stay away? These are questions I have never been able to answer. And no matter what I’ve tried, it always ends the same — in disaster.
I get up to use the bathroom and stretch my legs. I grab some coffee from the cafeteria and wander the halls of the hospital for a few minutes. When I get back, my mother is with Sean. A flash of anger shoots through me when our eyes meet. I turn immediately and walk out the door.
“Ryan!” She follows me into the hallway. “Don’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” That’s about the best she can do. It pisses me off to no end.
“Because? You haven’t seen or talked to me in almost ten months, and all you can say isbecause?”
“What do you want me to say?” she asks crossly.
Ah, now there is the mother I know and love.
“I don’t know. Maybe you should read the mother’s guide to raising children and plagiarize.”
“Ugh, Ryan, how long are you going to punish me?”
“I don’t know. Three and half years sounds like a pretty good amount of time.”
She glares at me callously.
“Don’t look at me like that. If anyone should be hostile, it’s me. My brother has been lying in a hospital bed for two days, and you didn’t even bother to call and tell me!” I’m panting. The fury I struggle to keep bottled up is threatening to burst. I’m under the same roof with the two people who can push my buttons the most. The outcome could be catastrophic.
“I didn’t call you because I wanted to avoid this.”
“What? Actually having to face me? Or did you just not want to fucking deal with me?” I accuse petulantly.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” she scolds me. “And stop acting like a ridiculous child.”
“I have never been a child,” I spit, gritting my teeth. “You never gave me the chance.”
She tightens her lips and tears suddenly well in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, turning on a dime. “There isn’t anything else I can say.”
“Well that’s a little bit better thanbecause.”
“I know you’re angry.”
“Angry? Angry does not even begin to describe it.” It is all bubbling to the surface. All the rage. All the anger. All the resentment. All the feelings I’ve been trying so hard to suppress are erupting, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop them. At this moment, I hate my mother. I hate her for the past, for the present, and for the future. I blame her for everything. Every single second of misery in my life is because of her. “I lost everything because of you. Because you couldn’t be the person Sean needed until it was too late. You dumped everything on me.ME!We needed you, and you weren’t there. Ever. You loved your bottles more than you loved your sons!” I scream at her in the middle of the hallway. She slaps me across the face. I don’t even feel it. My adrenaline is pumping so hard, Dorothy’s house could fall on me, and I wouldn’t have a clue.
“I didn’t know how to raise two little boys! Your father left! I was young and alone and scared,” she sobs. “And then Sean got sick, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I still don’t. But I’m trying.”
It should break my heart to see my mother fall apart like this. But it doesn’t. She deserves every filthy, painful emotion she’s feeling.
“I think it’s too little too late, don’t you?”
“No.” She wipes her eyes. “I don’t think it’s too late with either of my sons.”
I involuntarily scowl. “Maybe you don’t, but I do.”
“Ryan!” She stomps her foot.And she accused me of being a child?“What do I have to do? How can we fix this?”