So, here we are, facing pretty much the hardest fucking scene I had to write in this story. It really wasn't an easy one, but it was a damn important one.
If you liked/appreciated/were moved by it, please let me know, I could definitely use a good word or two. Or ten.
Chapter 29-
It's A Start
Regina focuses on the face of the woman she hasn't seen in almost a year.
Cora Mills looks pretty much the same, fighting time and its affects with any measure available. Only her eyes seem to have escaped the horrors of plastic care, the creases framing the older woman's brown eyes, creating an aura of seriousness. Maybe, Regina ponders, it is the reason this area remains untouched as she highly doubt anything escapes her mother. Everything is intentional.
The edges of her light brown hair brush her shoulders with the slightest of movement; a perfectly trimmed bob, that shines in a way only a morning at the hair salon can produce. She wears, no surprise there, one of her professional attires, the kind that fits her figure perfectly and must have cost accordingly.
"Regina" Cora acknowledges while placing her designer bag gently on a third chair, god forbid it touches the ground. Regina watches her mother as she settles after greeting her with a single word, and tries to get her thoughts and body in order and under control. She holds her breath, her sharp gaze watching her mother's actions when she moves to place her cellphone on the table.
The way Cora handles her phone when sitting down to have a conversation says a lot about the importance she attributes to the person in front of her and the conversation they're having; as Regina has learned over the years.
Cora Mills is a very busy person, and her phone, the direct access to her work, is and always has been a very important possession in her life. It never left her side. As work has no nights or weekends, she used to say, and if Regina's mother could claim herself to be anything, it would be a professional. Work has been Cora's life, ever since Regina can remember, and her damned phone never left her side because of that. The brunette can distinctively remember times when her mother accepted calls even when she really shouldn't have. It seemed like nothing mattered more to her, and Regina truly hopes her mother is content with her decision to continuously choose work over anything else in her life, as she had managed to burn everything around her on her climb to the top.
On those rare occasions where the priorities would shift momentarily, Cora would still have her phone on the table, but facing down. As if the only sacrifice she's willing to make, when her marriage is on the line for instance, is have the screen hidden so that the constant stream of messages wouldn't distract her. When Regina asked once about calls, her mother replied that a matter important enough to require a call should always be answered. Regina still remembers the irritated, frustrated look on her dad's face as soon as those words left her mouth. Her mother was perhaps the only person in the entire world to could bring her dad to those moments of anger and irritation. She will never be caught admitting it out loud, but not answering her mother's phone calls over the last few months, as few as there were, and aside from the obvious reason of being angry with her, had sparked an absolutely petulant streak of satisfaction in her; sometimes calls went unanswered, and her mother would have to accept it, at least when it comes to Regina.
Anyhow, those moments were far and few.
Yet, Regina foolishly finds herself anticipating her mother's actions as she moves to place the device on the table. Her gaze dulls for the shortest of moments when Cora sets it facing up, before she forces herself to think of something else. She's not sure why she even thought of it as an option to begin with. She clears her throat uncomfortably as she scolds her facial features into an expression of impartialness.
Cora takes a good look at Regina for the first time since she set down, her forehead crinkling in the slightest of ways as her eyes jump over Regina's set face.
"You look tired" she notes, almost disapprovingly, and places her hands one on top of the other on the marble table with nothing short of royal grace.
Regina sighs, oblivious as to why her mother would choose that to start a conversation with a daughter she hasn't seen or talked to in almost a year. But then, was she really expecting anything else?
"Not more than before, I'm just not wearing make up mom." she replies blankly, feeling the defensiveness already crinkling under her skin.
Her mother had the gift of making anything sound like a criticism if Regina was lucky, and an accusation for the rest of the time. Regina couldn't help the waves of defiance that washed over her whenever they spoke, as it was only a matter of time until she felt attacked, even if it was done passive-aggressively so. She understood her mother loved her in her own incompetent way, that she wasn't after hurting Regina. But the complete density when it came to hurting Regina's feelings by being insensitive, or not knowing when to just let her be, made the underlined grudge settle even more firmly into Regina's bones. There was nothing she hated more than the continuousity of that emotion, as evolving and overcoming the kind of emotions such as being hurt or frustrated by her words were part of the developing all people go through. She expected to feel differently by now, but it seems like her mother keeps pushing and she keeps letting it get to her.
"And why is that?" her mother asks, sounding mildly horrified by the idea.
"I don't know," she shrugs, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. She doesn't look her in the eyes when she says "Didn't feel like it for a while now."
"Regina," her mother begins but Regina halts her with hand motion and a slightly irritated look.
"Don't start" she half presses, half instructs.
Her mother looks like she wants to push the matter further, but for some blessed reason she presses her lips into a thin line and adds nothing, deciding to go with her daughter's wishes just this once. Regina isn't sure what to attribute that to, and hopes that whatever the reason may be, it is enough to keep that attitude sustained and going until the end of their conversation.
Instead, Cora signals the waitress and they both order drinks. Two posh looking mugs of coffee are being set in front of them in no time and they both forgo sugar or cream and move to take a sip almost immediately. Regina stops right before the cool ceramic touches her lips and inhales deeply. She sighs silently as the refreshing smell of coffee fills her nose and lunges, the sharp aroma providing her comfort only coffee can in rough mornings like this, when the endless exhaustion doesn't leave much room for anything else. She sips it enthusiastically, despite the burning of her tongue, her eyes fluttering closed. She sets it down, slightly calmer, and stares at her mother as the latter does the same.
"How's work?" Regina asks, a little awkwardly, in an attempt for a small talk, hands still clutching to the warm mug. They don't do small talks, not really, but Archie said it might the best way to ease both of them into talking, so Regina tries.
"Work is fine. Challenging as always."
"Of course" Regina nods and goes quiet again. "Any interesting projects in the horizon?" she asks, shifting uncomfortably.
Her mother purses her lips. "You know I can't talk about it" she responds, but her eyes soften the tiniest bit with apology. Regina nods curtly and smiles briefly.
Her mother's work was and always will be in the shadows. Cora Mills is who you turn to when you want things done, quickly and efficiently, and you have to money to pay for it. Her mother has a sharp eye for business, she's goal oriented, calculated and a problem solver. She studies her work in detail impressive for someone in her status in the industry. Nothing escapes her. Yet it is her discrete mentality and shifting morality that make her the best in the field. By any means necessary and as long as you don't color your client is the essence of lobbying and Regina's mother mastered that skill very early on. Regina used to wonder, once old enough to comprehend the nature of the job, how gray exactly were some of her mother's moves, if it bothered her in any way when she laid down at night.
"Oh yes, how could I forget."
She stares at her coffee for god knows how long before her mother asks
"How's New York?"
Those three words are enough to make Regina swallows thickly, which is ridiculous since she had no doubt her mother knew she wasn't in Chicago. It still somehow isn't enough to ease her rigidness.
"Good." she replies, bites her lip before adding. "Better weather"
She doesn't ask her mother how she knew it was New York she fled to, instead forces herself to keep eye contact with the woman sitting in front of her.
"I'm sure" her mother replies, and surprisingly it isn't sarcastic. "We had a terrible winter this year" she shares, the act catching Regina off guard.
"I heard" she nods "We had one nasty blizzard as well."
Her mother hums, and takes another sip of coffee. Regina does the same, looking at her mother, for some reason, to lead the conversation.
"So, is it over?" she asks out of the blue, and Regina frowns.
"What is?"
"That little field trip you took. Are you getting back to the proper work you should be doing?" she inquires calmly, her tone, words, and condescending insinuation enough to shatter the fragile understanding they managed to achieve up until a moment ago. Again, treating Regina like a child, passing judgment.
Regina's hands fist in her lap under the table when she responds tightly "It wasn't a field trip. And no, I'm not returning to Chicago. In fact," she breathes, chin jutting forward and eyes hardening with defiance. "I came here to grab the rest of my things. I left Blanchard, Goldman and Assoc. and I'm fully relocating to New York."
She watches with satisfaction diluted with apprehensiveness the way her mother's face contort with, is it Frustration? And has to remind herself that she's always a disappointment of some sort, so she might as well excel that niche while she's at it. It still makes her chest tighten painfully when her mother shakes her head at her, let down in a way Regina hadn't managed to nail in a very long time.
"What do you mean, you left the firm?" she asks, disapproving anger sipping into every word, sharp and stinging, and Regina wants to flinch so very much but stops herself from doing so.
"I didn't want to be there anymore, I couldn't be there anymore." she replies slowly, every word said with determination, insisting.
"Didn't want to be there anymore?" she echoes in disbelief "You are not a child anymore, Regina, there's no room in adult life to such petulant, emotionally driven, decisions." she determines and Regina bristles at the audacity her mother has to disregard her words that easily.
"They're lucky it ended with just me leaving" she mumbles bitterly, hands circling the mug again. It seems thick enough, sturdy enough, to handle the pressure of her grasp as she tries to calm herself down.
"Pardon?" Cora asks, looking genuinely confused, and somehow it makes Regina even angrier. "Where is this late rebellion comes from?"
"Rebellion?" she repeats, releasing a sharp laugh. "Do you really think I'm playing a teenager defying her parents?" she asks and shakes her head at the absurdity of that thought.
"I don't know Regina, you haven't been making a lot of sense lately." her mother replies seriously.
"This isn't some joke" she spits the last word, conversation etiquette be damned. "I had gone through a traumatic event" she blinks rapidly. She will not cry. She squares her shoulders until in hurts and lowers her voice into a whisper. It still harsh and biting and she watches her mother's face contort at her words. "Not that I need any reason to decide I want a change in my life, but I absolutely couldn't stay where I was after that happened."
And if there was something Regina has never been able to control and force to work in her favor it was her eyes, that always spoke the truth the rest of her body was hiding. They shine dangerously now, somewhere between pain, helplessness, and resolve dissipating.
"Have you even noticed that I have been angry with you?" she asks what should be a rhetorical question, but is in fact a very valid one.
Regina can't confidently say that her mother realized that. Cora could easily overlook the silence between them. Sometimes Regina can't help but wonder if her mother would rather have them like this, so she doesn't interrupt Cora's work, god forbid. She hates that it gets to her, after years of handling and experiencing the struggle that is having some sort of a connection with her mother. Regina herself let her mind wander and imagine a life in which they've cut contact. It would be the easy way, honestly, but the brunette could never really get her heart behind it, not fully, not when knowing that if she does that she is left with practically no family. She still thinks, naively enough, maybe even masochistically so, that a broken family, a challenging relationship, is still better than none. She had revisited that conclusion many times during the years, each time sticking to that belief.
It was following the night of the rape that Regina truly felt her resolve in the matter slipping. She's still not sure what she's expecting to achieve here. Most of all, she just wishes to have some sense of closure, whatever that ends up being. But in addition to it, there's a burning desire in her to find out why her mother acted the way that she did that night, find some kind of justification. There might not be one, probably there isn't one, at least not valid enough to justify Cora's actions and words, and Regina hates herself for hoping for that regardless.
Cora stills for a moment, the faintest of emotion crossing her face and disappearing quickly enough to cause a whiplash.
"Don't be ridiculous, Regina" she says eventually, and it isn't an answer.
"Did you, or did you not?" she repeats, fed up with her mother's diplomatic or vague responses. She's not one of her mother's clients, and she deserves better than that, at least this once. Regina made an incredible effort to be sitting in this chair today, sticking to it even though every fiber in her body screams run, and if she's fighting her instincts in attempt to understand where her mother is coming from, the very least her mother could do is try a little herself.
"I did" Cora replies, and for some reason fuels Regina's anger more than obliviousness ever could. She folds her hands tightly against her midriff and breathes shakily before asking with the tiniest voice
"Why?"
Her mother merely stares at her, says nothing in return, maybe for the first in the history of Cora Mills.
"Why did you say what you said?" Regina asks again, and the anger is no longer the face of her demeanor, pushed to the background as sadness and rueful understanding take its place. She looks desperately at her mother, wishing for a magic answer that simply doesn't exist. Nothing that she will say could mend the pieces of Regina that broke that night, and the worst part is that she still somehow hopes for just that.
Cora's brow furrows. "Are you referring to the-"
"The end of the year event we were both invited to" she barges in, her voice wet with vulnerability.
The waitress approaches to check in on them and halts, large-eyed when she notes Regina's emotionally vulnerable expression and Cora's tensed shoulders. She quickly recalculates her route, passes them swiftly, not looking their way and advances towards a nearby table. Regina smiles bitterly when she thinks about the situation, about how her mother would have never taken her to a place like this had she known where this conversation was heading. Optics was everything to her mother.
Sometimes the brunette wishes she was as calculated, goal-oriented, and practicality driven like her mother is, maybe life is easier when you don't feel as deeply, when you don't care.
"Regina," Cora sighs, and maybe this conversation had managed to wear her down as well. "I understand this wasn't the best night for you. We all make decisions we regret, but dawdling on it, basking in those misjudgments forever isn't going to help you in any way."
"Misjudgments? what are you talking about?" she trails off, confused as to what her mother is saying. Her eyes widen, face coloring with plain horror, when realization dawns on her. "Is that what you think it is? A decision I regretted?" she asks, incredulous. "You think I wanted to sleep with him?" she pushes through the tightness in her throat, lower lip wobbly and stomach rolling and rolling with nausea just from saying those words out loud.
"Regina there were no bruises." Cora counters, as if it's supposed to mean anything to her, her voice the most gentle Regina had ever heard coming from her. "There were no signs of violence, of enforcement." she reasons, her words hitting Regina in the chest so forcefully, her breath is taken away from her for a moment.
Regina stares at her, bewildered and truly scared by her mother's words. And it's that exact fear that pushes her, before burning the entire place down, to wait another moment and ask instead "What is that supposed to mean exactly? How can you say that?"
Her mother seems hesitant as she contemplates her words, then makes up her mind. "Because when a man forces himself on you the evidence is there, on your body, for a very long time after that."
Regina's heart stills when those words register in her mind; stills in a shock she goes into when she realizes what her mother is saying; stills at the absolute horrifying thoughts that fill her mind all of a sudden, as to how and why her mother would say that.
Tears blur her vision in a matter of seconds and her voice trembles, almost incomprehensible, when she speaks next.
"Mom, I did not want to sleep with him. He forced himself on me, even if not it the classical physical meaning of it. He used the power he had on me as my superior, he used the drunk state he encouraged me to get to in the first place, he didn't ask if I was interested. He didn't receive my consent or my permission, he didn't stop when I froze, and didn't bother to ask why I wasn't cooperating. He took advantage of the situation and of me." she breathes heavily, can't believe that out of all the supportive, encouraging, sheltering situations she's been in, it's this rather hostile one that finally pushes her to say those words aloud, to believe in them, to insist on them. "It is still rape. Even if he hadn't been aggressive enough to leave bruises on me, it is still rape." Even though she rasps it out, her words and eyes are strong, leaving no room for mistaking it as doubtful or uncertain.
Simple tasks like breathing seem impossible, let alone getting her thoughts in order. Yet, she hears herself speaking up once more. "If you don't want him to do it, it is rape" she repeats meaningfully, knowingly, and stares, unwavering, into her mothers eyes, even though the tears make it impossible for her to see anything but blurred shapes and splotches of colors.
Her mother averts her gaze, looking the most unsettled and overcome by emotions Regina had ever seen her. She doesn't respond, at least not audibly. Eyes distant, lips pressed tightly as if she fears of what she might say.
Regina is still furious with her mother. But at the same time, she can't ignore the dreadful heaviness that settles in the pit of her stomach, that screams what she wishes she could ignore, not understand.
But she can't ignore it, and she does understand, and she doesn't need her mother's verbal confirmation. Her body speaks for her, her distant, haunted gaze, how she, the most collected and in control person Regina has ever come across, looks like she can barely hold herself together all of a sudden.
That's all she needs.
And Regina knows her mother, knows what a strong, respected, feared woman she is, knows that if anything happened it had to be years and years back, maybe even back in Russia. That understanding making it a whole lot worse; however long ago it happened, it still manages to affect her as much as it clearly does.
She wants to sob. For herself, for her mother, for every woman that has to try and stop herself from crumbling whenever those horrid actions spring unannounced into mind; That has to patiently type back the fragile pieces only to have them fall apart all over again at the smallest mention; that has to not only experience it herself, but truly understand the pain any other woman who had gone through this faces; that has to somehow keep strong and try to build herself despite knowing that somewhere else in that exact moment another woman is being broken; that has to carry the burden of somebody else's actions, pay a price for someone else's distorted urges.
As much as she wants to, feels like it is truly the only option at that moment, Regina doesn't let herself fall apart, doesn't give in to the urge to burst into a hysterical cry and spill to the ground, boneless. She doesn't allow herself to bask in the resentment she still feels towards her mother, or the empathy that seems to accompany it now. Instead, she focuses on what all of a sudden feels the most crucial.
"It was very hard for me to deal with." she confesses ruefully, gaze cast down. "I couldn't do it by myself. I have been going to therapy for almost a year now." she discloses, meeting her mother's persistently detached gaze. She knows her words sink in, even if her mother doesn't let it show, and it is the most important thing she can do to reach past the gap that has been there ever since Regina can remember.
"It helps, it really does." she insists, a twisted form of an assuring smile, more of a grimace, appearing on her lips. She's exhausted to the core, realistic enough to not expect this conversation to go any further that it already had, and yet cherishing the lengths they had seemed to conquer today.
There is so much more left, nothing is nearly close to being resolved. But it's enough. Enough to untie a painful knot in Regina's chest, enough to lace some understanding into the resentment she felt for years, and intensified in the last one. It's not nearly close to anything like forgiveness or understanding acceptance.
They won't conquer that in a day, not in a month or even a year.
But it's a start.
