Almost Easy

It was three days of almost nonstop driving. I’d left Brian a voicemail—which was admittedly pretty cryptic. But I’d explained that I was headed back to my hometown for a couple of days, and thought aloud about how I really needed to invest in a cell phone.
I parked harshly outside of my aunt’s house, nearly landing myself up on the curb. I slammed the door and marched my small body up the door.
She looked shocked to see me. Stunned.
“Blair—” she choked.
I pushed passed her and into the house, pacing back and forth in her living room like a crazy person.
She shut the door softly and came to face me, her hands folded in front of her. She looked desperately uncomfortable.
“To what do I owe the—”
“What were they like?” I demanded. “You never, ever told me what my parents were like. Were they kind? Were they monsters? Were they funny?”
She blinked at me. I could hardly condemn her for looking so baffled—I’d shown up out of the blue and while my line of questioning made total sense in my mind, it was out of the woodwork for her.
“Who?” she asked slowly.
I rolled my eyes, “My parents, obviously.”
She looked at me and her expression changed without warning. Her features softened and she unclasped her hands. She tilted her head ever so slightly at me.
“I’m going to make tea,” she told me.
I was bewildered but nodded in acknowledgement. She disappeared into the kitchen.
My feet were planted into the floor and my brain couldn’t seem to shake the confusion. I’d almost never seen her look so vulnerable. Maybe I’d actually hit a soft spot—I hadn’t known she’d possessed any.
And then I caught sight of it. I was certain it hadn’t been there the last time I’d been in her house. It was a framed photograph of me. I was maybe fifteen in the picture; I was smiling, holding a tiny bird. My mind softened at the memory. It had fallen from its nest and the mother bird never came back for it—so I saved him. He lived in a shoe box in my room until his wing healed and one day, while my window was open, he flew away.
I’d cried and cried—totally devastated that my bird buddy had abandoned me. My aunt had consoled me, to the best of her ability. She told me that birds were meant to fly—I would be selfish if I’d caged him up to keep him.
Soon she reappeared and beckoned me to the dining room. I sat across from her as she poured hot tea into a china cup (complete with saucer). I wasn’t typically a fan of tea but I appreciated the gesture for what it was and knew better than to turn it down.
“So,” she said once she’d poured her own cup and had stirred in a spoonful of sugar. “You have questions.”
I tapped my foot anxiously, viciously biting at my lip. It seemed I’d lost my nerve.
“What’s going on, Blair?” she asked me coolly.
“I’m at a crossroads,” I confessed. “My life is, um, falling apart a little bit.”
“Your boyfriend?” she asked, sipping at her tea.
I shook my head, “No…everything with him is fine.”
“Well then what?” she pried.
I was honestly completely shocked by her apparent interest in my life. I’d sort of anticipated a scolding or some sort of remark designed to make me feel foolish.
“The tour was…less than pleasant,” I said vaguely.
She nodded, “I would have appreciated a phone call after your hospitalization. I wasn’t completely certain you were still alive.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a little guilty. “I honestly didn’t think you cared.”
Her face flinched into a scowl, “Why would I not care if you were living or dead?”
“Seriously?” I asked with a snotty scoff.
She looked horrified by my notion.
“Let me be clear with you, young lady,” she started boldly. “You and I have certainly not always seen eye to eye. But I very much care about your wellbeing and after raising you for ten year, I ought to have a phone call confirming you haven’t died in a drug binge, no?”
I studied her for a second—it was clear then where I’d gotten my no-bullshit approach to life. It really brought that whole nature versus nurture thing into question. She didn’t like to be pushed around or neglected and neither did I.
We were the same version of aggression.
“You’re right,” I said finally. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she said quickly.
“Why didn’t you love me?” I asked nervously, a little ball of emotion sticking to my throat.
“What kind of question is that?”
“You didn’t,” I insisted.
She scowled at me.
“Are you not capable?” I asked seriously. “Or am I unlovable? I’m really starting to wonder.”
“Blair, what is going on?” she asked me flatly.
I sighed, “I’ve been sensing a trend in my life. People come and go as they please…they say and they do whatever they want to me and then they vanish. My band is disbanding, my best friend is gone…I’m flailing. I’m really, really flailing.”
Her face looked almost sympathetic.
“You raised me to be tough,” I said sadly. “I know that. And I am trying.”
“And that brought you here?” she asked confusedly. “Forgive me, I don’t see the connection.”
“Why did you agree to take me?” I pleaded. “When my parents died, why did you agree to take me?”
“Your brain,” she almost laughed. “I took you because you are my niece. You were my sister’s pride and joy, Blair. She loved you…so much. I couldn’t bear the thought of you disappearing into the system.”
“For my mother’s sake or for yours?”
She contemplated this for a second before finally saying, “Both.”
“What was she like?” I sighed.
“She was a lot like you,” she told me with eyebrows raised. “She was stubborn and hard-headed. She loved the piano…she was pretty good at it. She wasn’t very funny but she had a great sense of humor.”
Listening to her reminisce about my mother made me realize that it wasn’t really my mother at all…it was her sister.
“When you were born,” she continued, pausing only to take a sip of her drink, “your mother told me that her life was complete. You were all she needed, and now she had you.”
I was really sad.
“You were supposed to be with them you know,” she lamented. “The night they passed away…but you were here with me. You’d come down with a fever and your mother didn’t think it was right to take you out. So…you were here.”
“You never told me that before,” I said quietly, my mind running a mile a minute.
She sighed, “I was raised to disregard emotions. Your mother didn’t sing to that tune—she was a lot like you in the way. She marched to her own drum, regardless what other people, including our mother, had to say about it. I honestly thought that I was doing you a service by moving past your parents death. What good can come from speaking about it?”
“I didn’t need to hear about their deaths,” I said seriously. “I needed to hear about their lives.”
She swallowed really hard, “Well, then I’m sorry.”
She’d never apologized to me. I’d never seen this side of her—not even close.
“You know,” she said when we’d fallen into an introspective silence, “she would have been very proud of you.”
“I doubt that,” I groaned. “I failed.”
“You?” she scoffed. “You are many, many things, Blair—but a failure is not one of them.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I frowned. “What am I without my band?”
She looked at me seriously, “You’re Blair Peterson.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever talked like this,” I said to her.
She looked down quickly and then back at me, “I thought you were going to die.”
I squinted at her.
“I read in the papers that you’d suffered an overdose…” she hesitated. “I wasn’t sure what had happened. I was very worried.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Fear does something strange to people,” she told me. “You begin to comprehend the effect you’ve had on others…and I can’t help but feel a little responsible for your issues.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “I swear.”
“But you were not fine,” she argued. “People that are fine do not overdose on drugs, Blair.”
“That’s fair,” I laughed uncomfortably. “But I’m fine now.”
“In California,” she said sarcastically. “No one is fine in California.”
I snickered, “It’s warm there—what’s not to love?”
“Blair,” she said abruptly, totally shattering the uplifting moment we’d been sharing. “It pains me to think that you believe I’ve never loved you. I need you to understand that while your decisions sometimes concern me…a lot…It’s from a place of care, not judgement. I have opinions about the life you should be living but I have been reminded lately that, although I raised you, you are your mother’s daughter.”
I listened, feeling a lot like a little kid stuck in the corner. My aunt intimidated me, even when she was trying to be sweet. She was a force to be reckoned with—but I’d never seen her genuine. Or warm. I didn’t know what to do with this.
“You are strong like I am though,” she said sternly. “So whatever you choose to do with your life, in California or elsewhere, I know that you will do it well. Perhaps I haven’t always been the best guardian to you, but I certainly tried.”
“You gave me everything I needed,” I told her quietly.
“You needed your mother,” she argued with me lowly. “I’m very sorry that I couldn’t give that to you.”
I just nodded.
“The next time that you nearly die,” she warned me, “you best call me.”
“I will,” I smiled.
She nodded once and then added more tea to her cup, “So, tell me about your questionable boyfriend. You couldn’t have chosen a doctor?”
Maybe I’d gone to Massachusetts on an angry whim—but I’d ended up in a realm I didn’t recognize. I hadn’t anticipated my aunt welcoming me into her reality openly. I honestly had not expected that she would answer any of my questions—or suggest answers to questions I hadn’t thought to ask yet.
I wasn’t sure who this woman before me was but I almost recognized her. I was really glad to meet her, though. I just wished it hadn’t taken all those years to get there.
Maybe I could be free.

Notes

Only one more to go.

The end of this sort of crept up on me.

xx