My Biggest Mistake Read online

  “I’m glad my life means so much to you, Donnie. I really hope you learn to let this go, otherwise you just might wake up one morning, and I won’t be around anymore. And then you’ll never have the chance to make it right. Maybe then you’ll know what it’s like to be in my shoes, making decisions based off emotions, based off sadness and grief, and unable to go back in time and make things right again.”

  I stood up and took two steps toward the door before he was at my back, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around. He pushed his body into mine, causing me to stumble back the last few feet until my back slammed against the glass pane of the sliding door. He held me there, pinning me against the cold glass by my shoulders and heaved in angry breaths through his flaring nostrils.

  “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean. I really hope that’s your way of threatening me, making me feel bad for how I feel. Because if it’s not, and you’re seriously contemplating killing yourself, then…”

  “Then what, Donnie?” I screamed when I realized he wasn’t going to finish his sentence. “If I kill myself then what?”

  “Then you need more help than I can give you.”

  I shoved him away from me and glowered at him as I used every ounce of strength I had to keep the tears away. “I’m not going to kill myself. I have come a long way over the last few years. I have learned a lot about myself and what I can and cannot handle. I can handle this without ending my life. All I was trying to say was it would be a shame if something were to happen to me, and you’re left without a chance to make things right. I could get in an accident. I could be at the wrong place at the wrong time…anything. But I’m glad to see that you think I’m so weak that the only thing to cross your mind is suicide.”

  “Given how you’ve been talking about your depression…” His anger had seeped away, leaving him looking like a lost little boy all over again.

  “You haven’t fucking listened to a word I’ve said.” I shook my head and balled my hands into fists at my sides, angry with myself for sounding so weak, angry with Donnie for assuming the worst, and angry at the universe for handing me such a shitty hand. “I have gotten help. I continue to get help. Depression doesn’t magically go away, you’re right about that, but it doesn’t mean I’m suicidal all the time. It doesn’t mean that the moment things start to fall apart I need to be watched or baker-acted. I’m fucking sad, Donnie, not suicidal.”

  “And how am I supposed to know? You didn’t tell me the last time. You just left. You just vanished without telling me a damn thing. So I apologize for offending you, but you’ve never been upfront with me before about how you’re feeling. I find out about everything after the fact. The last thing I want to happen is for you to do something to yourself, and then I find out too late. I can’t do that again. But I also don’t trust you to tell me shit.”

  “This isn’t going anywhere, Donnie. We clearly have a lot to deal with. We have a lot to work out—work through—and it’s not going to get resolved this way. You’re angry and hurt, and I get that. Trust me, I get it better than anyone else. I didn’t come home after the abortion because of those same feelings. I had surgery because I felt that same way. And then I stayed away from my own children and my husband, and everyone else that I cared about, because I was angry and hurt. I was sad. I was in constant agony over the choices I had made. So fine, feel them. Get them out. Work through them. Do what you need to do so that we can figure this shit out. Go talk to that counselor. I don’t care what you do to get you there, just please do it. Do it so we can talk about this like civilized human beings—adults. Right now, all you’re doing is blaming me for something I couldn’t help. And I’m defending something I wish I could change. It’s an endless cycle that will leave our heads spinning and nothing will get fixed.”

  Donnie didn’t respond. All he did was walk past me, back inside, and then out the front door. Leaving me standing alone on the patio with nothing but his words echoing in my head.

  I needed to get out of that house.

  I needed to put my life back in order.

  And to do that, I had to start from the beginning.

  * * *

  Dorothy drove me to Donnie’s house to get my car, and just as he promised, he wasn’t there. I knew he was in no shape to go to work, and the kids were at school, so that left me to believe he had gone back to Beth.

  The thought hurt, but at the same time, I couldn’t do anything about it. I had made up my mind as I stood alone on the patio after he walked away from me that I would no longer concern myself with the things I couldn’t change. Easier said than done, yet I would work hard at it. I couldn’t change what I had done, and living with the pain and regret was not living. It was existing, and I refused to merely exist any longer. I had kids that needed me to live. I couldn’t change the way Donnie felt, but I could change the way I felt.

  After picking up my car, I drove straight to my mother’s house, hoping she was home. I didn’t call her since I didn’t know what her number was. I hadn’t had to use it in years, and even if she still had the same number, I didn’t remember what it was. I only knew where she lived because it was the same house I grew up in.

  I pulled into the driveway, noticing the same car she’d driven to Donnie’s house days before sitting in the driveway. I parked next to it and made my way to the front door, pounding on the wood until she opened it for me.

  Her hand shook as she held it out to invite me in and I could tell she was nervous. She bit her bottom lip and began to obsessively straighten her shirt, even though there wasn’t a single wrinkle in it. I understood her nervousness, I felt it too, but I wouldn’t allow it to deter me from saying what I needed to say. It was a long time coming, and if I ever wanted to move on, I needed to get it out. I had spent far too long blaming her for my actions and shortcomings. I refused to give her that much credit any longer.

  She gestured to the couch and waited for me to sit before offering me something to drink. It was odd behavior for her, but I didn’t question it. I simply declined the drink and waited for her to sit before I spoke.

  “A lot was said the other day, and I think we both deserve to say our peace and move on. I think we both have feelings we’ve bottled up over the years, and I would really like to move past them. To get them out in the open, discuss them, and then move on,” I said in a calm voice that seemed to shock my mother as much as it shocked me.

  “I think that’s a really mature suggestion.”

  She didn’t say anything else, so I took it upon myself to start the conversation. “I love you, Mom.” Just as much as my calm approach surprised me, so did the emotion in my voice and the burning of the tears in my eyes. “I really do, even though I haven’t shown it in a really long time.”

  Her tears slid down her face before she ever got a word out. “I love you, too, Idelette. And I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t. You were never a burden to me, and I never wanted you to feel that way. I didn’t handle things very well when you were young, and I guess I got to a point where I didn’t know how to change it.”

  I nodded and wiped my face with my sweater. “I know. If anyone knows what that’s like, it’s me. I ran away because I didn’t know how to change myself. And I’m sorry for that… I’ll be sorry for that for the rest of my life. But I can’t spend the rest of my days apologizing for it, nor can I spend the time blaming you for it.

  “I grew up wanting everything you didn’t have. I spent so much time planning a life for myself that was the opposite of yours, making lists of the things you did that I swore I never would. And in a way, I did that. I got the man that would love me forever. The man that would give his right arm for me, because Dad wasn’t that person for you. And I saw that, and it made me want to find it. So I found it…in Donnie. I wanted a lot of kids, because I knew what it was like being the only child, never having someone to go to. I wanted a home that was more than four walls filled with silence. I wanted laughter and love, hugs and bedtime
stories. And I found it all.

  “But the one thing I never paid any attention to growing up, despite my attention to everything you were and weren’t, was the dullness in your eyes. The emptiness inside of them. And maybe I did notice it and just blamed it on Dad leaving, but I didn’t realize what it meant until I looked in the mirror one day and saw the same hollowness.

  “I know now what those eyes meant. And I hate that this whole time, I’ve been blaming you for something you couldn’t help. What happened to me was not ideal, but it forced me to change. It made me get help, and it gave me the chance to find a better me.”

  She never once took her eyes away from me as I spoke. As I tried in my own way to get her to accept that she, too, suffered from depression on some level. And maybe we all deal with it in some way or another, maybe some of us handle it better, hide it better, I’ll never know. But I couldn’t allow myself to continue to blame her for it all. Especially after living my life in her shoes.

  “I am going to find someone here, locally, to talk to. Do you think maybe you’d want to go with me? Maybe we can do this together? Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?” I asked, holding my breath in case she said no.

  But she didn’t say no. Instead, she nodded and began to cry harder. “Yes, I would like that very much. I hate what I’ve put you through. I hate it even more that I never realized I was doing it. I blame a lot of it on your father, but that’s not fair. He left because he couldn’t handle my moods. I never meant…”

  “Mom, that’s the point in all of this. It’s why I’m here, it’s why I want to talk to someone with you. We’ve lost so much time as it is, let’s not waste more by trying to change the past. Let’s change the future instead.”

  She reached out and pawed at me until she had me crushed to her chest with her arms around me, crying in my hair. “How did I get so lucky to have you as a daughter?”

  I laughed and pulled away to look her in the eyes. “A lot of bad things have happened, but I refuse to let those go on without learning a lesson from them. If there is one thing I can take away from everything, it’s that you can’t change the past, you can only study it, and make sure it doesn’t continue.” And I truly believed it. My mother had to have suffered from some amount of depression, and she never reached out for help. If she had, I might have had the tools handy when I needed them. And I would make damn sure to watch for those signs from my kids, and make sure they don’t hold things in that could end up damaging them in the long run. History does repeat itself, but only when no one’s watching.

  “About what I said to the boys—”

  “Mom,” I said, cutting her off, “you really don’t need to explain.”

  “But I do. I don’t remember what I said to him or what words I used, and I very well might’ve made it sound like it was their fault you left. I honestly don’t know, but it’s not how I feel, or even how I wanted them to feel.”

  I placed my hand over hers. “I know. I’m not saying it’s okay, what you said to him, but it’s definitely something we can discuss with a therapist and figure it out. Maybe we can learn a few things about communicating.”

  “Thank you for this. You’ll never know what this means to me, to have you reach out to me. We’ve spent too long in a bad place. So thank you.”

  And I hoped I would never fully understand what it meant to her. Because in order for me to know that, I’d have to be in this same situation with one of my own children. And I hoped my efforts to prevent that would be enough to keep from passing my history onto them.

  My mom and I needed some time together, so I grabbed my suitcase from Dorothy’s house, thanked her for her support, and stayed the night at my mom’s. Dorothy was happy that I had made an attempt to mend some of the burned bridges from my past, and assured me that with some time, Donnie would come around as well. I only hoped she was right, but didn’t allow myself to put too much stock into it. I didn’t want to think about the fallout quite yet if she was wrong.

  I felt like a burden going from house to house, sleeping on couches and spare beds, but I couldn’t bring myself to make anything permanent yet. I knew I could call Nancy, since I still hadn’t removed the furniture, but I didn’t want to be that close to Donnie. I knew I had to make a decision fast, though, because I needed a place to put the beds I’d bought for the kids. And I knew I also needed to start looking for a job. Those thoughts had kept me up most of the night. But I couldn’t hide from them forever. Dorothy may have been optimistic about her son coming around, but I didn’t feel that way. And I refused to put my life on hold waiting around.

  I sent Donnie a text the following morning, simply stating I would pick the kids up from school and bring them back to his house after he got home from work. I didn’t ask or leave any room for him to object. He had a right to his feelings over everything, and I had a right to my kids. Unless a judge said otherwise, I was still their mother and had a right to see them.

  “Where did you go?” Livvy asked in the car on our way home.

  “I’ve been spending time with Nana, honey. She missed me while I was gone, too. Just like you missed your mommy, I missed mine. So I’ve been staying with her.”

  “Why aren’t you across the street?”

  “Well, that’s not my house. I was only staying there for a little bit. Like borrowing it.” The more why questions she threw at me, the harder it was to hide the truth from her. I didn’t want to lie, but she was too young to understand what was going on between her father and me.

  “Are you coming back to stay with us again?”

  “Well, not tonight. I’m still spending time with Nana.”

  “Are you living there?”

  “No, honey. I’m just visiting for a while.”

  Thankfully, I pulled into Donnie’s driveway before she could ask any more questions. She hopped out of the car and ran inside while I helped her brothers out of the backseat.

  I gave them each a hug and told them that I loved them bunches and bunches, and they finished it with, “and more and more.” My heart swelled with those words, knowing that it didn’t matter where I lived or if Donnie and I were together, they would know I loved them.

  I waited by the car and watched as they headed inside, not wanting to chance running into Donnie. I wasn’t ready for that, not after the emotional conversation the day before at his mother’s house. But it didn’t matter that I didn’t walk them to the door, or that I didn’t go inside. Donnie came out and walked over to me.

  For a brief moment, my heart skipped in my chest, allowing myself a moment of hope that he came to talk. But that wasn’t the case. Before he reached me, I noticed the manila envelope in his hand, and I knew what it was. I didn’t have to ask or even look inside. I knew they were the divorce papers he’d tried to give me less than two weeks earlier.

  Shit. Had it really been less than two weeks? How could my life have changed so drastically in that short of a period? That realization cut me deep, but before I allowed myself to bleed out all over again, I steeled myself and took the papers from him, reassuring myself that in another two weeks, I would be in a better place. If my life could fall apart that quickly, I would make sure I’d pick it all back up in the same amount of time.

  “I called a realtor today. I’m putting the house on the market. I’ll split the sale with you to make this process easier and faster. You took half the savings, so all I ask is that what’s in the bank now is mine. If that’s not okay with you, I’m sure we can work something out. And anything in the house that you want is yours. I won’t fight you on it,” he said emotionless, as if it meant nothing to him at all.

  “Why are you going to give in so easily?”

  “I just want it over with. It’s been prolonged enough, don’t you think? I mean, really, this should have happened two years ago. I don’t want to fight with you on any of it. We can share the kids fifty-fifty. That’s the only thing I’ll fight you on. You won’t get them more than that. I won’
t have then less than that. Anything else is yours.”

  I was at a loss for words, not able to form a single thought in my head. My heart hurt, but I had no right to fight or complain. We can’t change the past. I had to keep reminding myself of that. No matter what I did, it would never change the choices I’d made. And I had to live with that.

  “Yeah…okay.” I nodded, unable to meet his gaze, and climbed back in my car. I left his driveway without ever looking back, but I could tell from my peripheral vision as I drove away, that he remained, unmoving, in the driveway. At least this wasn’t easy on him. I didn’t think I could’ve handled that.

  I drove back to my mom’s house and locked myself in her spare bedroom. I could sense her hovering behind the door, but I didn’t have the strength to face her. I had used every ounce of energy to stay strong in front of her, in front of the kids, in front of Donnie. I just needed a moment to work through my weakness.

  That moment turned into a few hours, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my purse and my keys and headed out to clear my head. My mom stopped me, clearly worried, but I gave her a half-hearted “I’m fine” and left. I could only remain positive for so long before I needed a release.

  I drove in circles around town until I ended up at a bar. The music was loud and it wasn’t crowded. It was the perfect place to escape the negativity that threatened to drown me. I told myself I’d have one drink. One drink to calm my aching heart. So I did. I had a Cinnamon Toast shot—Rumchata and Fireball. It was sweet and fiery, exactly how I felt inside, and I relished the smooth burn all the way down.

  And then I had another.

  The bad thing about those shots is that they go down smooth. And they taste like Christmas…and they hit you all at once. You’re perfectly fine one minute, and then you’re crying to yourself at a bar the next.