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The next few weeks passed by in a blur of fatigue and intense emotions. Helen and I took turns driving Mom to her twice-a-week chemo treatments. The medicine that was supposed to be clearing the cancer cells from her body had its share of side effects as well. I held her hair back while she vomited as the chemicals coursed through her frail body, until eventually there was no hair left to hold. Then I helped her wrap her bald head in a scarf and held her as she cried for all she’d lost.
I listened while she railed in anger, cursing God and anyone else who cared to listen for having to go through this personal hell. She vacillated between indignation and tears, and her mood could change quite abruptly. She yelled at me for the way I prepared her hot tea, then dissolved into tears and begged me to forgive her ungratefulness. She burst out laughing one day at something I said, but only minutes later I found her sobbing. She had trouble remembering most things, and would often walk into a room only to find she had no idea why she’d gone in there. I spent most days on the verge of tears myself, and I was thankful for the times Helen came to sit with her so I could regenerate.
My days consisted of keeping a watchful eye on her as she painfully made her way through each new obstacle of her illness; I was her companion and her nursemaid. There were good days and bad days; the bad ones made the good seem that much better. My mother grew to depend on me in a whole new way, and the situation, horrible as it was, brought us closer together.
Today was a good day, and I hummed a tune as I fixed us lunch, hopeful that I could coax some food into my mother’s ever-shrinking body. I placed soup and sandwiches on the table and went down the hall to Mom’s room to let her know it was ready. I found her looking through old photographs from when I was a baby, and the prodding in my heart told me it was time.
I’d put the information about Max on the back burner after I read the last of her letters. I was determined to broach the subject with her, but was waiting for the right moment. The moment couldn’t get any more right than her looking at my baby pictures.
Sitting down on the bed beside her, I took the photo she handed me and looked at the curly, golden-blonde hair on my two-year-old head. I wasn’t smiling in the picture; as a matter of fact, I had a very serious look on my tiny face. My eyes seemed sad and far too solemn for someone that young. Even at the tender age of two, they hinted of pain beyond my years.
“You were such a shy and worrisome little girl. But you always asked questions, even when you were just a wee thing.” Mom chuckled and adjusted the handkerchief on her head, fingering it self-consciously.
“I guess there was a lot I wanted to know, even back then.” I swallowed nervously, trying to work up the courage to say what I wanted to. “There’s still a lot I want to know.”
I looked Mom in the eye and instead of looking away as I’d expected, she held my gaze.
“I’m sure there is, Hope. There’s a lot I never told you.”
“Why, Mom? Why did you keep so many secrets from me?” My heart pumped quickly, nervous about the conversation we’d jumped into headfirst.
“Well, I’d like to say it was to protect you, but that would be a lie, I suppose. There was really nothing to protect you from. I know now it was really to protect me.” She took a deep breath.
I’d returned the letters to their home in the attic a couple of weeks ago. I had the information I needed, but I wanted to see if Mom would tell me about Max without me having to ask.
“What did you need to be protected from?” I reached over and grabbed hold of her hand, which was ice cold. I knew this conversation was difficult for her, and I wanted to somehow help her through it.
“So many things.” Mom dropped my hand and stood.
“I know this is hard for you, Mom.”
“Stop being so nice to me. You should hate me for the things I did to you. You have every right! I was never the mother you needed me to be. But if you only knew why....” She began wringing her hands in frustration, and I suddenly wanted to stop the conversation. She was sick and weak. We didn’t need to do this right now. I’d waited a lifetime to have this conversation, and I could certainly wait until she was feeling better.
“It’s okay, Mom. Let’s just forget it. Forget the whole thing. Let’s talk about it all another day.” I stood up and put my arm around her, trying to coax her into sitting down.
She agreed to sit, but refused to stop the conversation. “It’s been too long already. It’s time you knew the truth. About you, about me, about everything.”
I couldn’t believe this was real. I was finally going to learn the truth my mother worked nearly thirty years to conceal. But suddenly, I didn’t want to know. I realized that once I knew, it would change everything. I would no longer be oblivious; I would have the information I’d so desperately wanted.
But once I did, I would have to do something with it. I wasn’t ready, but in spite of my sudden reluctance, my mother began talking, unearthing a world of secrets.
“His name was Max, and he was my first love. We cared for each other so much, Hope. You think I don’t know the way you felt about Sam, but I do. Oh, I know it so well. I loved him with a vengeance. He was my whole world. We made big plans. We were going to get married and escape this town. We would travel the world. He had a football scholarship, you see. He was an exquisite athlete. I had no doubt he could make the big time.”
She didn’t look at me, but instead stared off in the distance, as if she were reliving the memories while she shared them with me. I wanted to reach out and touch her, to connect with her somehow, but I didn’t. I just listened, my heart thudding nervously as she told her story.
“Then, just a month before graduation, I found out about you and everything unraveled. Nothing could ever be the way we’d planned it. I knew Max would marry me. I didn’t doubt that for a minute. He would want you. I knew he would do the right thing. But I couldn’t see how destroying his future could ever be the right thing. There was only one path for me to choose.” Mom turned and looked at me as tears streamed down her face. I wanted to ask so many questions, but I remained silent.
“I never told him why, Hope. I just broke things off with no explanation. The only way to make a clean break, the only way he would move on without me, was to hurt him. I refused his calls. I wouldn’t speak to him. I know it broke his heart, but I guess he respected me enough not to push himself on me. I didn’t tell him about you, Hope. God forgive me, I never told him he was a father. It was wrong, I know, but I didn’t tell him.”
Tears were running heavily down her face. As much as I knew I should be angry with her, in that moment, I couldn’t be. She had been young and she had done what she thought was right at the time. Somehow I couldn’t hold it against her anymore, not since I’d read the letters.
“It’s okay, Mom. I know you think I’m mad at you, but I’m not. You’ve suffered enough.” I put my arm around her, hoping she would believe the words I said.
She looked at me in amazement, and I could see the relief on her face. “How did I ever get lucky enough to have you for a daughter? Lord knows I don’t deserve you. You should hate me for all the things I did to you. You have every right.”
“I did hate you for a long time. But I don’t anymore. We’ve both done it long enough, and I think it’s time to move on, don’t you?”
“You’re amazing. I swear, I learn something new from you every day. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I’m supposed to teach you.”
“I don’t think there’s really a right or a wrong way to do life, Mom. We’re all just learning as we go.” I patted her leg and took a breath, knowing what had to come next. “There is one thing you can do for me, though. I need to know who Max is. Please tell me about my father.”
She took a deep breath, obviously having known I would ask the question eventually. She seemed to be wrestling with herself. She’d already told me a lot, but I needed to know this final, crucial secret. I had my suspicions about what she was going to say, but I needed to hear it from her.
“Max was my first love. He was a wonderful boy who grew into an amazing man. He did go away to college. He made good on his scholarship, and he was about to be drafted into the NFL when a knee injury changed it all. Instead, he finished college and moved back to Woodridge. He used his degree to open a business. He’s lived here ever since.” Mom looked at me as she spoke, perhaps waiting for me to piece things together.
“Please just tell me, Mom. Just say the words.” I held my breath in anticipation, already knowing what was coming.”
“Oh, Hope. I don’t know how to tell you this. When he came back to town, you were almost five years old. My parents had moved to Hawaii by that time, and they gave me this house. I’d worked my way through nursing school, and I had a good job at the hospital. Max and I ran into each other right after he moved back, but when he saw you, I guess he just assumed I was involved with another man. I told him to stay away from me. By then I was angry at the world. Too angry to have any room in my heart for Max, or you for that matter. I should have told him that day, but I didn’t. I knew I was a different person than the Maggie he loved. I was bitter. Time hadn’t changed me for the better. I was afraid to tell him the truth. I was afraid he would reject me.”
“This is a small town, Mom, and I don’t know anyone named Max,” I prodded.
Mom took a deep breath, preparing herself for this one final revelation. “Max was what he went by in school, but it’s not his name. Hope, you’ve known him your whole life. Your father is Will Maxwell.”
