I don't know if I've ever felt so much pain as I have recently, but also never so much happiness. I was held in such a tight little shell before, never really experiencing the depths or heights of anything, and I suppose you can't have one without the other.
To never have held Nate in my arms…no, I can't imagine it. Despite so many terrible things having happened, I would never want to erase the time I spent with him, even if it would take away the pain I'm feeling right now. The pain that I can feel even in my bones, causing a throbbing ache throughout my whole body. It's like I'm detoxing from some powerful, addictive substance. One that I know only hurts me in the end.
I catch a glimpse of my slightly swollen lip in the car window from where Pierce hit me last night. We haven't seen him today—he must be holed up at a friend's house or a hotel. I don't even want to think of the divorce proceedings that my mom will be wrapped up in now.
I hear the front door shut behind me and turn—will it be Nate coming to say goodbye? But it's my mom, carrying one last small suitcase, her eyes covered in large, round sunglasses.
“Ready?” she asks, without looking at me. I nod, then remember one last thing I've forgotten.
“I'll be right back,” I say, and hurry in through the front door without explanation. I walk straight up the staircase and down the hall into my bedroom. It looks exactly the same as the first time I saw it. I pause for a moment, taking in the beauty of the furnishings for the last time, before walking over to my desk and opening the top drawer. I reach my arm all the way to the back and fish out the small slip of paper I stashed there.
I walk out and down the hallway. Nate's bedroom door is slightly open and I can tell from the silence that he's not inside. I push it open all the way and walk to his bed. I run my hand over his bedspread and breathe in his smell. I pull down the comforter and lay the piece of paper on top of his pillow, then pull the comforter back up over it. I certainly don't want Pierce to find the scrap of paper where Eileen wrote her phone number.
I'm about to leave when something makes me cross over to his window overlooking the river. My eye catches on a flash of white on the lower lawn: Nate sitting on the top step of the stairs leading down to the rocky shore. He sits completely still, his white t-shirt stretched across his broad back. I resist the urge to wonder what he'll do now—it's really none of my business anymore.
I hurry back down to the car and see my mom sitting in the passenger seat. I open the driver's door and see that she's placed the keys on the seat. I get in without a word and turn the car on then pull away from the house. I glance in the rearview mirror to get one last glimpse at it as I turn the corner out of the gate.
My mom is silent on our drive back to our old house, just staring out the window as we get on the highway that takes us further away from the city, back to our much less expensive neighborhood. A seed of resentment that's been building inside of me all summer, or perhaps longer, finally takes root as I glance sidelong at her impassive face.
“You haven't even looked at me all day,” I finally say, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands.
“What do you mean?” she asks faintly, still not turning to me.
“You haven't looked at my face,” I repeat.
“Brynn…” she sighs.
“No, it's true. Your husband slapped me last night and you never even came to check on me. And now you won't look at the bruise.”
“Brynn, I've been very upset.”
“And I haven't? He feels me up, hits me, and you haven't asked me if I'm OK.”
“It's not my fault that he did those things!” she shouts, suddenly hysterical.
“Mom, I'm not blaming you for his actions, alright? But you’re my mother. You should have believed me—you should have taken care of me. I've been taking care of you for years, and this time, I needed you.”
My mom sobs once, reaching up to cover her mouth with her hand. “I wanted to believe you, Brynn, I really did,” she finally gasps. “I just knew that if I did, everything would fall apart, and it all seemed so perfect.”
“But it wasn't.”
“No, it wasn't.” I feel her hand reach up tentatively to touch my face, and her fingers graze over the small cut in the corner of my mouth. “Oh, I'm so sorry, my darling. Does it hurt much?”
“Hardly at all,” I reply, swallowing the tears that have sprung up at her touch.
“I never guessed…about you and Nate, I mean,” she whispers.
“That's over, too,” I reply shortly as my emotions threaten to overwhelm me.
“Ah,” is all she says. “Well, I know that might not be the kind of thing you ever want to talk about with your mother, but I'm here. You cared about him a lot?”
“Yes,” I answer, my voice raspy with held emotion. “So I guess you have to get a lawyer?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Oh, god. I suppose so,” she replies. “I think I'll be able to get my old job at the salon back, at least. I talked to Anita and she said the new girl they got is terrible.”
“Did you sign a pre-nup?” I ask, thinking of Eileen. I know I'll have to fill my mom in on what I know about her soon, but it would just be too much for me right now.
“Yes,” she sighs. “Iron-clad.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I close the door behind me and dump my newly-purchased textbooks on my thin mattress, then straighten up to survey my Lawn Room. It's not much to look at, with its sparse furnishings and lack of bathroom access, though it does have a framed list of every inhabitant that's lived here, going back to UVA's very first class.
For the last month, I've just been sitting around our old house, doing my best to help my mom with getting her old job back and hiring a lawyer, but there really wasn't much for me to do. I felt both relief and fear when it was finally time to drive back down to Charlottesville. Relief because I'll have schoolwork to occupy my mind, and fear because I might run into Nate on campus.
Foolishly, I had hoped that he would try to get in touch with me after my mom and I moved out, but he didn't. It really was stupid of me. I told him that I loved him, and he didn't say it back. Simple as that. Even though he was angry, there must have been some truth to his words when he told me I wasn't special to him.
I glance at the clock. Just after four—almost time for my dinner shift in the cafeteria to be starting. I change into my work clothes and head over. At least I know I won't run into Nate there—the athletes all have a separate dining hall serving far tastier and more nutritious food. I open my door to the lawn, smiling halfheartedly at another female student a few doors down as she exits her room at the same time. I walk quickly, keeping my head down, not really wanting to interact with anyone I know. I enter the dining hall and cross around to the side door, back into the kitchen.