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Luke
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THE DAY HAD BEEN HELL. I was so glad Bree was gracious enough to tolerate my mother. As per usual, my mom ran hot and cold. One minute she was warm and friendly and the two of them got along great. The next minute, she was being rude and judgmental. By the end of the afternoon, it was obvious her visit had taken a toll on Bree’s good mood.
It was those times when my mother was sweet and gentle and showed her caring side that made it difficult for me to stay mad at her. I always made excuses for her shitty behavior, chalking it up to a side effect of the pain she suffered. It wasn’t until the last year or so that I started to understand the nature of our relationship.
My realization had come on the heels of me treating a woman that had been seriously beaten by her husband. We talked extensively and I started to see similarities between her situation and mine. My mother wasn’t physically abusive, but damn if she didn’t manipulate the hell out of me. It was after that woman came in six months after that first beating, on the edge of death, that I realized I had to get away from my mother.
She wasn’t killing me with violence, but she was slowly killing me with her manipulations. With the way she used me and manipulated me to be her pet. I wasn’t her son. I was her toy. She toyed with my emotions and got a great deal of pleasure watching me try to jump through the many hoops she set before me.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” my mom exclaimed, flopping onto the sofa and throwing her arm across her face.
“What’s over?” I asked.
“The day. I don’t understand what you’re doing here.”
“What’re you talking about?” I snapped. I was beyond frustrated with her. I was pissed and felt like she was intruding on the life I was trying to build.
“You and that pretty little Bree. The girl is needy and so not right for you. She’s all about herself. You doted on her and she acted like she was a princess to be waited on hand and foot.”
My mouth dropped open. I shook my head, taking a seat in one of the pretty blue chairs that matched perfectly with the airy, open living area. “She is not selfish. I didn’t dote on her, but even if I did, that’s what I am paid to do.”
“This place isn’t right for you,” she said, completely ignoring what I had said. “You don’t belong with these uppity folks. You’re a Texan. You need to be at home where people smile when they meet you and the men are real men. California is going to make you soft.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I like it here. I’m not going back to Texas.”
“Luke, please!” she wailed. “I need you more than this girl does. She can still get around. She’s healthy and you said she might get her sight back. Her rich daddy can hire her a whole slew of nurses. I can’t afford that kind of luxury. I need you.”
“No, you don’t,” I insisted. “You’re fine. Look at you. You’re healthy. You’ve got good color in your cheeks.”
She flinched as if I had slapped her. “I’m healthy right now, but you know I can take a turn for the worse at any minute. That little girl doesn’t need you. She’s toying with you. She only wants you because you’re handsome. You’re just the shiny new toy.”
“She can’t see me mom,” I pointed out. “She isn’t the one toying with me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, glaring at me.
“You know exactly what it means.”
“You need to come home where you belong.”
I sighed. “No. I don’t. I’m not going back.”
“What happens when I get sick again? You know it’s only a matter of time.”
“Mother, there is nothing wrong with you. All your illnesses are in your head. You make yourself sick.”
The words hung in the air. I couldn’t believe I had actually said them aloud. Judging by the look on her face, she was just as shocked as I was. I had not meant to say it. I thought it, but I didn’t mean to speak it aloud.
She pointed a finger at me. “How dare you? How dare you speak to your mother that way!”
I sighed, giving up all pretense that we had a typical mother and son relationship. We didn’t. We never wood. “It’s the truth mom. You need help.”
“How dare you!” she shouted. She jumped to her feet, proving she was healthy.
“Mom, I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”
“Do what? What do you do? You’re just like your father. He was worthless when I needed him. He couldn’t uphold his vows to love me during my sickness. Then your sister up and left me. Now you have abandoned me! I don’t deserve this. I’m your mother! All I have ever done is care for you and work myself into what will surely be an early grave because I was left alone to take care of you.”
It was the same old shit. She always tried to make me feel guilty for being born. She wanted me to feel guilty for being such a burden. “You haven’t taken care of me in a very long time mom. I started working when I was fourteen to put food on the table.”
“Modeling isn’t working and I’m the one who got you those jobs. I’m the one who drove you all over the place and paid for you to get those pictures.”
“And you made sure you got paid for your trouble,” I spat. “You took all the money I made because you were too sick to work. I took care of you, Mother. I have always taken care of you. I want to live my life now and I’m going to. You got to live yours. I want to know what it is like to have freedom. I want to know what it’s like to love someone and be loved in return.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, poor you.”
“I am not going to feel guilty for wanting to live a normal life. You certainly weren’t taking care of your parents at my age. This relationship is toxic and I have to get out before you suffocate me.”
“I don’t like the man you have become Luke Turner. California has changed you. Hanging out with that woman has changed you. I don’t like it.”
“I. Don’t. Care.”
Her mouth dropped open before she snapped it shut. Anger didn’t work so she turned on the tears. She sat back down on the couch and sobbed. “I’m all alone. My children have left me. My husband left me, all because I’m not as healthy as I once was.”
“None of us left because you were sick,” I said, trying to be gentle. “We left because you drove us away.”
She sobbed again. “That isn’t true. I loved all of you. Your father—”
I stopped her. “He left because you refused to take care of yourself. You made yourself sick. We all saw it. I was the only one dumb enough to stick around for so long and feed into your sickness. You have some mental health issues that need to be addressed, Mother.”
“You are a horrible person,” she wailed, wiping her tears. “How dare you kick a woman when she is down. I taught you better than that.”
“No. You taught me how to take care of you. You taught me that you were a fragile person that could not handle being told no. That you were someone who needed to be showered with attention all the time and when you didn’t get your way, you threw a fit. You have kept me as your emotional hostage for long enough. I can’t do it anymore. I want to be a part of your life, but I cannot keep doing this with you. I cannot be the guy who feeds your illness.”
“I don’t have an illness!” she screamed.
I didn’t shout back. It never did any good. “You’re right. You don’t have a physical illness. Your kidneys are fine when you eat right. You have your health, but you make yourself sick. I don’t know why. That is something you have to get into with a psychiatrist. I can’t help you. I cannot fix you.”
She wept. I waited. I had seen the exact same weeping fit a hundred times. Usually it was because I wouldn’t let her have a particular food because she was recovering from one illness or another. She would use the same tactic when I would tell her I was going out with friends for a night and she wanted me home with her.
I was immune to her tactics. She had made me feel numb. I hated being so cold, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. She had used me for so long and now that I saw it for what it was, I didn’t think I could ever go back.
She looked up at me with pale blue eyes, the whites bloodshot from her crying jag. “I just don’t understand what changed.”
“I changed,” I answered honestly. “I changed. I woke up one day and realized we were not good for each other. Maybe I liked taking care of you. Maybe I needed to feel needed. Truthfully, you conditioned me from a very young age to feel like the only time I was needed or loved was if I was taking care of you. It isn’t healthy. I see it now and for both our sakes, I had to leave. I hope one day we can have a relationship, but that isn’t today. You need to figure out what really matters to you.”
“What does that even mean?” she asked.
“It means you have to decide if you want to try and get healthy and we can one day have a relationship. It means if you choose to keep making yourself sick and try to make me feel guilty for not rushing to your side every time you sneeze, then we will not have a relationship. I love you mom, but I cannot be around you.”
She pursed her lips, glaring at me. “Your sister put you up to this.”
“No, she didn’t, though I wish I would have done this ten years ago. I wasted too many years already. This was my decision.”
“I just can’t believe you’re abandoning me for good.”
“I’m not abandoning you. It’s time you stood on your own two feet and allow me the chance to do the same.”
She was quiet for several seconds. “I suppose this means you don’t want me here?”
The old Luke would have assured her I wanted her to stay. I would have coddled her and made her feel better, sacrificing my own happiness. “I think it’s best you go home, call a therapist and start working on yourself.”
“Do you hate me?” she whispered.
“No. I don’t hate you. I just need some time to get myself together. I need time to figure out who I am when I am not the guy taking care of his mother. I want to find out if nursing is really what I want to do or if I did it because you told me I would be a good nurse. You wanted me to be a nurse so I could spend the rest of my days caring for you.”
“I said you would be a good nurse because you are!” she protested.
I shrugged. “I am, but now it’s time for me to figure out if that’s the path I want to stay on.”
