"Hey" I whisper into Sofia's hospital room, trying to get my girlfriend's attention without waking our daughter. My girlfriend looks up towards the door and I indicate for her to come out into the hallway. Arizona checks her phone, presumably to check the time, before placing the device back into her pocket and standing up to join me.
"Amelia it's only 7:30, what are you doing here? Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. I stayed at Meredith's last night. But I've been awake for a while. I waited until now to come so they wouldn't kick me out."
"Nightmares?" She presumes and I nod, confirming her suspicion.
"Yeah. We talked a lot last night and it was okay but you know talking tends to make the nightmares worse."
"Why did you go over there? I'm not complaining, I just, you knew she would want to talk."
"Actually I was the one who wanted to talk to her. I was going to just talk over the phone but she made me go over. I think it was what I needed though." I admit, answering her question before continuing with my own statement. "Anyway, I need to talk to you for the same reason. That's why I'm here so early. I wanted to talk to you and spend time with the kid."
"Did Meredith ask more about-"
"No." I interrupt. "I mean, yeah, but that's not what this is about." I cut her off before she finishes. "It's about my mom. Yesterday, Anne and I decided I need to give my mom rules, I need to set boundaries." I finish.
"That sounds like a good idea. I almost kicked her out of the apartment for the things she said to you." I could tell that Arizona was angry the other night when my Mom had arrived. I could see she was unhappy with my Mom's appearance and I appreciated her being there for me, standing up to my Mother for me.
"It's more about the kids than me, but yeah. That wasn't ideal. I am going to tell my Mom she needs to be there for the kids consistently. She can't just drop in and out of their lives as she sees fit, even if something were to happen to me."
"Amelia what are you talking about?" Panic is evident in Arizona's eyes at my previous statement.
"Not like that. I don't plan on going anywhere, but if I'm in an accident or something, she can't stop seeing the kids. She can't let her pain get in the way like she did with me, and has been doing with Derek's kids. I'm scared that I'll let her get close to the kids and she'll abandon them when they need her most."
"Amelia, I know that is important for the kids, but what is important for you? What do you want?"
"It's not just about me anymore. The kids come first, you know that."
"Even so, your Mom has caused you a lot of pain, Amelia. Nobody expects you to just forgive her overnight." Arizona states, looking into my eyes and stroking my hair out of my face. I can see the concern in her gaze, she thinks about the effect of my mothers presence on me, rather than simply being concerned about the children.
"I know, and one of the rules I'm enforcing is that she will have to visit twice a year - with notice of course. Those visits are for me too, not just the kids. She will also need to stay in contact throughout the year. I'm not suggesting daily texts or anything, just a check in once a month or so. The kids need consistency, and so do I. I'm just not sure if she is capable of it."
"You're letting her in though, and that's a good start for both of you. Were the kids okay with her yesterday?" Arizona asks, and I'm grateful for her changing the topic.
"Bailey and Ellis were. I don't think Zola wants to see her again so she may come here and just sit and do homework or something, if that's okay?" I ask, knowing the answer would be yes but wanting to make sure.
"Of course. What happened? I would have thought she would be excited for trips out."
"She doesn't trust easily. My Mom told her to call her Grandma and I think it freaked her out. In Zolas mind, my mum is just a stranger. She hadn't ever been in her life."
"It's understandable."
"She asked if she had to see her again, like she was expecting to be forced to. I told her she never had to do anything she didn't want to and we would find another way. I'll check in with her again today but yeah, I doubt she will want to go out."
"Mom?" Arizona and I hear from Sofia's hospital room. We immediately end our conversation and enter the room. "I need the bathroom. Can I get up?"
"Carefully. Amy and I are standing on both sides while you walk, okay? Take it slow." Arizona instructs and our daughter nods in agreement. We walk slowly towards the bathroom, it is clear that Sofia is grateful to be up and moving. I am especially surprised by how steady Sofia is on her feet, knowing the amount of painkillers she is on. When Arizona informs Sofia she will be entering the stall with her, to say Sofia was annoyed would be an understatement.
"Why don't we wait outside here, but I'll use my foot to keep the door closed so it's not locked if you have any problems." I propose, attempting to diffuse the tension.
"I'm not going to have any problems. I'm fine." The ten year old insists, but neither Arizona nor I budge.
"Sof, you're on two lots of antibiotics and a large amount of painkillers. I'm sorry but it's this or your Mom comes in." I instruct.
"Fine." The girl grunts, pulling the door closed and I put my foot under.
"Sof, don't even think about it." I instruct a moment later, sensing her reaching toward the lock.
"How did you even know?"
"It's what I would do. Come on, the quicker you go, the quicker we can go back to your room." I tell her and nod towards the hand dryer. Arizona gets the message and moves to put her hand under it to block out the sound. After a few moments, Sofia kicks my foot lightly and opens the door.
"Wash your hands please." Arizona tells her as she attempts to walk towards the exit. The girl complies, taking a few moments to rinse and dry her hands before leaning into my side.
"Are you okay?" I ask, lightly wrapping an arm around her whilst being careful of her healing body.
"I'm tired. I haven't even done anything, and I'm tired."
"Your body is focusing all of its energy on fighting the infection. It's completely normal. Come on, let's go back to your room."
"Are you staying today, Amy?"
"I'm going to stay for a little while but then I need to go talk to my mom, and she wants to see Meredith kids this afternoon. I'm sorry."
"But you were gone last night too"
"Why don't I take your Mom and the kids this afternoon and you can stay here?" Arizona suggests.
"Are you sure?"
"If I weren't I wouldn't have suggested it."
"That would be great, thank you. Speaking of, I don't have to leave for over another hour, why don't you go home and shower, get anything else you may need?"
"Are you okay with that?" Arizona asks Sofia. The girl nods sleepily in response, closing her eyes to lay back while I talk to her mother.
"I'll be quick, promise."
"Take your time," I tell her. "We will be okay."
When Arizona leaves the room, Sofia blinks her eyes open as though she was not sleepy to begin with. She remains laid back in bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning her head to look at me. She looks tired and irritated, more so than she had when I arrived at the hospital. I am about to ask her whether she is okay when she breaks the silence and speaks to me first. "Can you stay tonight instead?" Sofia asks me releasing an exasperated sigh.
"Why? I thought you'd want your Mom here?"
"She stares at me all night and doesn't sleep. It's creepy. She just sits there." She explains with an annoyed shrug. I've seen Sofia when she is irritated before, but this feels different.
"I'm sure she is just worried about you."
"I know, but it's still weird. She won't even cuddle." She states sadly and I see tears building in her eyes.
"Can I cuddle instead?" I offer, waiting carefully for her response. I know I can't replace Arizona, and if Sofia requested her Mom's affection specifically, she may not want mine. When she nods, I help her move slightly to the side and climb up onto the bed. I make sure I select her left hand side to avoid the surgical sight. She cuddles up tightly into my body, resting her head on my chest. Although she makes no noise, I feel her crying softly.
"Sofia baby, what's going on? Are you hurting?"
"It's not as bad now. Alex gave me medicine." She explains through her snuffles.
"Then why are you crying?"
"I don't know. My body feels weird and tired and I don't like it. I want to go home so Mom can give me cuddles so I can sleep." She sobs, and I hold her tighter, hating that she is hurting like this. I wish that I could take her pain away. It is rare that Sofia shows her emotions so openly to me. Usually when she is upset, she turns to Arizona, something I have become accustomed to. Because of this, I'm unsure how to best help her, what I can do to make her feel better.
"Why wouldn't she cuddle here?"
"She didn't say why." Sofia says quietly. I am about to respond when she continues "But I think it's because of her leg. She didn't want to take it off or let people see."
"I'll talk to her about it, okay baby? Everything is going to be okay, I promise." I explain, placing a light kiss on the top of her head and continuing to hold her while she cries.
"Okay."
"You said you couldn't sleep without cuddles right?" I ask, wanting to make sure that I understood her predicament correctly.
"Yeah."
"Do you want to try to go to sleep now? I'm here for the next hour and it might help." I offer, running gentle circles on her back.
"Okay. But you can't leave while I'm sleeping?"
"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
I hold Sofia tightly, refusing to let go of her small, fragile body until Arizona returns to the hospital. The girl has managed to get a small amount of sleep, but it wasn't much. Arizona had only been gone an hour. When my girlfriend arrives back at the room, I ask Sofia is she is okay for me to move, wanting to discuss what she had told me with her Mom before I go to collect my mother.
When I inform Arizona of Sofia's request for this evening, for myself to stay at the hospital rather than her, she immediatly says no. Her body language is defensive as she shuts down the request without futher discussion. She attempts to walk into Sofia's room but I step in her way, not letting her past. "Arizona, I need you just to listen to me for a moment. Please." I request, understanding her frustration but knowing that it's important.
"Amelia, stop."
"No. I promised Sof I'd talk to you about it before I leave." I insist, placing my hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing.
"Why did she even ask?"
"After you left this morning, Sofia asked if I could stay here with her tonight instead of you and proceeded to cry herself to sleep in my arms. It's important." I tell Arizona. It is not my intention to guilt trip her, but she needs to understand.
"Wait, what?" My girlfriend asks, her prior annoyance now converted into concern.
"She said that her body felt weird, presumably because of the drugs and she just wanted to be cuddled and that you wouldn't. She pretended to go to sleep but didn't actually sleep most the night because she couldn't relax without you holding her. She said that you know she needs cuddles when she's sick." I attempt to explain, repeating what Sofia had explained to me earlier this morning.
"So what? She asks you to replace me?" Arizona asks, and I'm shocked by her sudden jealousy. I understand that she is reacting out of a combination of sleep deprivation and dejectedness, but that isn't an excuse for her tone.
"Woah, you and I both know that's not what she meant. She knows you're not comfortable taking your leg off here and didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."
"Do you really think she doesn't want me here?" Arizona asks. Her defensiveness no longer, now her true anxieties are evident.
"No. I think exactly the opposite. She wants you to hold onto her and not let go. She's scared, Arizona. She wants her Mom."
"But-" Arizona attempts to contradict me, my I shake my head, no, and interrupt.
"No buts. She wants you. We can figure out a way of making you more comfortable for her. We will make it work, I promise."
"Okay. I need my slippers. The boot ones because they cover the foot so people won't see but they're clean and comfortable enough to get on the bed."
"Okay. That we can do. What about comfort? I know your leg isn't all that comfortable when you're laying down."
"I can use a pillow."
I collect my Mom from her hotel at 9am as planned. She is waiting at the entrance for me when I arrive. I take a breath and try to remain calm as she makes her way to the car. Despite my anxiety, I know I can do this. I can talk to her and make things right.
"How is Arizona's daughter? Is she okay?"
"Her name is Sofia and she's my daughter too. She's okay. Tired and sore but okay."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean she wasn't your daughter, I just, it doesn't matter. As long as she is okay. What do you have planned today?"
"We are going back to my place to talk. After that we can go see Sofia if she's feeling up to visitors and depending who she wants to stay with her this afternoon, either Arizona or I will take you and Mer's kids out somewhere."
"Meredith said you didn't want to see me yesterday." My mom informs me as we arrive back at my apartment. I offer her a drink but she declines, instead moving to sit down on the couch, non-verbally informing me that she would like to talk first.
"I needed time. Having a plan of how to deal with the hard days is how I remain sober."
"But you are sober, right? You've recovered?"
"There is no such thing as a recovered addict, Mom. We are either an active addict or in recovery. It's never gone. Yes, I'm sober, but I have routines in order to stay that way." I inform her, slightly annoyed that she is unaware of the terminology as I know I have told her before, but I move past it.
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. You didn't know."
"You said you wanted to talk, so what did you want to talk about?" My mother begins and I pause slightly surprised that she isn't immediately asking questions.
"I do, but I also dropped a major bombshell on you the other night, so if you have questions I can try to answer them first." I offer.
"Amelia, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"I already am uncomfortable, and that feeling isn't going to go away unless you ask questions."
"I don't understand. How will my asking question's make you more comfortable? It seems counterintuitive at best." She states in her usual all knowing tone, and I try to figure out how to best articulate the meaning behind my words.
"If you haven't asked questions, if you don't have that option, you'll wonder about it and one day you will ask questions. You will reach a point and won't be able to hold them back, so you'll ask and I'll be put on the spot. In the time before you ask, I'll be constantly worrying about when you will bring it up. I will be ruminating over what to say and the right amount to tell you and it'll make my life more difficult. So, if you are okay with it, I would rather you ask any questions that you have now." I explain, attempting not to shut down and to be truthful about my fears.
"I guess that makes a little sense. If you're willing to talk about it, I would like to know what his name was?" She asks, and I'm grateful that she has accepted my request.
"I named him after Dad." I state simply. I know it is illogical, but it hurts to say his name. I've been getting more okay with saying it around Arizona, so instead I used a description. I gave her the information she needed in the least triggering way for myself.
"You said that yesterday would have been his birthday, how old would he have been?"
"Nine. So he would have been not much younger than Sofia and Zola."
"Am I allowed to ask about Christopher's dad? You said you were engaged?"
"His name was Ryan. He uh, he died in bed beside me. I rolled over one morning and went to rest my head on his chest but I uh, I realised he wasn't breathing. I was too late. He was already cold." I attempt to explain. I feel that the words are rambling and that I usually wouldn't say so much, but for some reason I can't make myself stop.
"Do you have any pictures of him, or of you both?"
"I have a few. I'd have to dig them out."
"I'd like to see them, if you wouldn't mind."
My Mom follows me to my bedroom and sits down on the edge of my bed while I go through one of the boxes I'd left filled with belongings in the wardrobe.
"Is this…" She begins, but doesn't finish her sentence. I turn around to figure out what she is referring to and nod in response. "Yeah, that's my son."
"He looked like Derek did as a baby."
"He did." I agree, turning back to continue looking through the box, hoping my mom can't see me wipe the tears from my eyes while I'm looking away.
I find several photos of Ryan and myself. I flick through them, finding only two that do not make it obvious that we were both high. I expected my mom to ask how he died, but she didn't. I'm glad, because it means she wasn't so quick to judge him. She won't know that version of him. I put the rest of the images back in the box, keeping the two acceptable ones in my hand. When I approach my mother, she places the image of Christopher back on the nightstand where she had found it and looks back to me. I reach my arm out to hand her the photos and I realise how much I am shaking. "These are the only good ones I have." I state simply and lay them on the bed.
"You both looked so happy."
"We were."
"Is that?"
"Dad's watch." I finish for her. "Yeah, I gave it to him. I got it back after he died."
"I gave it to Derek." My mother says aloud, although I sense that she isn't talking directly to me, rather she is attempting to understand the process of how I ended up with the item.
"Yeah. And Derek gave it to me the same day. He said I needed it more than he did."
"I thought, I thought maybe it was gone. Maybe that Derek was buried with it and I'd never see it again. Do you still have it?" She asks nervously, tears now evident on her face. I lean over her to the night stand and open the drawer to pick it up and hand it to her.
"Mom, are you okay?" I ask, noticing her hands shaking as she takes the watch from me. She looks down at her hands, staring at the watch for a moment before responding.
"I've been going to a support group that Kathleen recommended, for people who lost someone. I started going after Derek died but it helped me cope with your dad's death too. It's silly really." Downplaying the significance of what she had informed me.
"Okay." I respond with a shrug, unsure of the relevance of what she had told me.
"Okay what?"
"I'm not sure how you want me to respond to that. If it helps, that's great." I tell her honestly. I'm glad she is getting help.
"I'm not sure. I expected at least a little sarcasm."
"I'm not Nancy. Not everything I say has to have passive aggressive undertones, not everything I say is snarky."
"I know you're not your sister, that's not what I meant. I just, not many people in my life are open to the idea of support groups." I refrain from my first thought of telling her she needs better people in her life, instead attempting to be supportive.
"Mom, I go to both narcotics and alcoholics anonymous meetings. Plus I am in therapy. I'm not going to judge. And if it works, it's not silly."
"You're in therapy?" She asks, clearly in shock from my admission, but I do not rise to it.
"I have been for a while now. Please don't tell Kathleen, I'd never hear the end of it."
"Amelia, I wouldn't." She states, looking insulted that I even had to ask. I feel guilty for a moment before it passes, she was never there for me so I don't know what she would nor wouldn't do.
"My therapist is actually part of the reason I needed to talk to you alone. I went to see her yesterday and uh, we came up with some stuff I needed to talk to you about."
"Okay." She pauses, waiting for me to continue.
"I am trying to let you in a little, but I'm struggling. I want to trust you, but I don't and it's hard to change that."
"Trust me with what?"
"Just being in my life, being in the kids' lives and not leaving." I respond, listing several of the things that concern me.
"Amelia I've never left anyone. I'm not following."
"I'm not trying to upset you or blame you, I'm just trying to be honest." I explain, and she nods, and I continue. "You may not have physically left, but you weren't there. After dad died, you weren't there for me and-"
"And I regret it every day. That's why I'm here."
"What?" I ask, a little shocked from this development. I'm unsure how I expected her to respond, but it definitely wasn't this.
"At the support group, people were talking about their regrets and almost everybody said they wished they had told the person something before they died or that they wished they could have spent more time with them. My regret was you. I regretted not being there for you after your dad died. I came here with the hope that I could maybe make it right."
I pause for a moment, trying to take in what she has told me. "I appreciate that, I really do, but that doesn't change the past."
"I know."
"You told me that you weren't there for me because I reminded you too much of Dad. And after Derek died, you lost contact with his kids, you just stopped like you did with me. I don't want to let you into their lives if you're going to hurt them by leaving."
"Amelia, I'm not going to do that again." Her statement is plain and simple, but we both know it isn't that easy. "I don't think I could survive the guilt of putting anybody else through what I put you through." I'm unsure what to make of the latter part of her admission. I understand that she feels guilty, but I don't think that her guilt alone will help to prevent a reccurance of events.
"What if I die?" I prompt.
"Don't say that, Amelia."
"Seriously, Mom. What if I die and they remind you of me? You can't just drop out of their lives." I tell her, this time more confident in my statement.
"I won't. I don't know how to prove it to you, but I won't."
"If you want to be a part of their lives, you need to agree to a few things." I start, and my Mom nods, waiting for me to continue. "All of the kids, Sofia, Zola, Bailey and Ellis, they're a package deal. They all deserve at least a birthday card, every year. If one kid gets a birthday present, they all do. Likewise with Christmas."
"I can do that. When is Sofia's birthday?" She asks, and for the first time, I see that she is taking this seriously. She knows that I mean what I am saying and is willing to follow my rules.
"The day before mine. Also, you need to stay in touch. Visit when you can, although notice would be appreciated." I add the last part, not wanting her to appear unexpected again.
"Okay."
"And you need to spend time with me too, not just the kids. If you want a relationship, you're all in because I can't take losing you again. I can't go through that. It's only since I got with Arizona I've started learning how to trust people again. She convinced me to go to therapy and it's helping and I don't want to go back to how I was."
"What do you mean?"
"I was a mess. Derek tried to help but he wasn't enough. I needed a support system and therapy." I offer. My response is a simplified version of the truth, but it is still truth. I was a mess, something she should be more than aware of.
"I didn't realise how much you were hurting. I wish you would have told me." I breathe through my teeth in an attempt to keep my anger under control. I don't know how she dare say she never knew. "Amelia, what's wrong?" She asks, likely sensing my shift in body language, my defenses building back up.
"I tried to kill myself. I was going to jump off the roof of a house and you didn't even come. I shouldn't have had to say or do any more than that." I state, taking deep breaths to keep my anger under control. My body is shaking, and anxious at the mention of my previous suicide attempt. I don't talk about it often, and I never have in this context, never in defence of my own past.
"I didn't think you were serious. I thought it was just a way of getting attention. I'm sorry, Amelia. I didn't realise. Then when you came back fine, I just presumed I was right because you didn't act on it." I can't help it. I laugh, not because it's funny, but because it's so wrong. Who presumes that a suicidal sixteen year old is just 'doing it for attention'. How uneducated must a person be to reach such a conclusion.
"The only reason I didn't was because Derek talked me down. I was about to jump when he got there and he sat and talked to me for almost an hour to convince me not to."
"Amelia-" Attempts to interrupt, but I don't let her. I continue talking.
"I still think about doing it sometimes, but I have the kids to think about now and Arizona who helps. It doesn't change the fact that I have the dark thoughts though." I explain truthfully. "Sometimes I think, maybe, if I got help when I was a teenager, things wouldn't be as bad now but I honestly don't know."
"I'm sorry I failed you. If I knew, I would have gotten you some help but I didn't know."
"Nobody did, not really. I mean, Derek did his best to help where he could, but once he went to college I was on my own."
"Why did you do it?" The room had been silent for several minutes, so I'm surprised to hear the question flow from my Mother's lips.
"What?"
"Why did you want to kill yourself?" She clarifies. "What happened?"
"You should think about whether you really want to know before I answer that. If you really do want to know, I'll tell you but it's only going to make you feel worse about yourself. It's not a particularly nice story, and it's not something you need to know."
"If I had any part in it, I'm sorry."
"You didn't, well, not directly, but you didn't help either." I state honestly. She isn't the reason I wanted to kill myself, but she did lead me to believe I didn't have another option. I didn't have anybody I could turn to, and that is on her.
"Have you told anybody else the reason?"
"Other than my therapist, Arizona, Addison and Meredith. Sofia kinda knows, she knows the trigger but not about the suicide attempt."
"I want to know, if you're willing to tell me."
I take a moment, building myself up to tell her the truth. I told her I would, and I'm going to. I've never discussed this without Arizona present, or at least nearby. I'm surprised that I manage to get the words out. I'm more surprised that I'm not filled with fear nor anxiety. I just state the truth. "I was raped when I was 16 and I spiraled."
"Amy-"
"Amelia." I correct her a little more harshly than I intended.
"Amelia, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't realise. I would have taken you to the police and to the hospital. I'm sorry that happened to you and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you afterwards."
"I'm not looking for your pity. What happened, happened, neither of us can change that." I tell her. I hate, more than anything, to be pitied. I went through hell, and I manged to get to the other side. I didn't survive that night just so that other people would feel bad for me. I didn't survive so that I could spend my time making other people feel more comfortable when talking about the worst day of my life.
"If I'd have known, I wouldn't have let you go through that alone. I would have made sure you got medical care and whatever treatment you needed."
"I went to the hospital. I got treatment."
"What? How?" She asks, referring to the fact that had I gone to the hospital, at the least she would have gotten insurance paperwork.
"I skipped school and walked. I told them I was 18 and paid out of my college savings. I needed stitches and had several broken ribs but other than that, I was okay, at least physically."
"You didn't look different. I didn't see any cuts or stitches or anything."
"Internal stitches." I clarify and I hear my Mom gulp. "And I could cover the bruises by wearing sweaters. You noticed I was limping though, I told you I twisted my ankle and you accepted." My Mom looks away and starts to dodge eye contact, but she doesn't respond so I continue to talk while not looking at her. "When the doctor first gave me the pills, he told me they would help with the physical pain but they did more than that. For a while, the drugs numbed the pain and stopped the nightmares, but then they stopped working and I was having panic attacks several times a day and I just wanted it all to stop."
"So you wanted to jump."
"Yeah…"
"Why didn't you tell me… or tell Derek?" I've asked myself this question many times. I know that I should have done, but at the time, I felt like I couldn't.
"I thought you'd be mad at me for sneaking out. I thought about telling Derek, but he would have tracked the guy down and killed him and I needed Derek not in prison. He was the only one who made me want to keep living."
"I wouldn't have been mad, not about that." She explains and I nod.
"As I got older, I think I realised that, but the longer I left it, the harder it was to talk about. I just avoided people and physical contact for a long time, and I was okay. I think it's part of the reason things worked out with Arizona. She isn't a guy so it's less triggering."
"What about Ryan?"
"I relapsed. I was high." I admit.
"Is that why your son died? The drugs?" Surprisingly, this question doesn't make me as mad as I would have expected. I spent days wondering if somehow that was possible despite knowing it isn't possible.
"No, anencephaly is a genetic thing. It was unrelated. When Ryan died, Addie helped me get clean. She got me into rehab. I got clean really early in the pregnancy."
"Did Arizona know about all this before you got together?"
"Yeah. She uh, she found me when I was having a bad day and brought me back here. I ended up staying here for a few days and at one point she witnessed a nightmare, and a panic attack at a different point and she connected the dots."
"Do you still have the nightmares?" I nod, looking down at my hands. It's hard to talk abuut this, especially without Arizona.
"I wish I didn't. I'm getting better at coping with them though, and until recently they were less often."
"Until recently? What happened?"
"I saw his picture on the news and it triggered a bunch of stuff - not fun. He died in prison."
"You didn't deserve any of what happened to you, Amelia. It wasn't your fault." I can't describe how much it meant to me to hear those words from my mother. Its still painful to think about, but I feel lighter.
"I know that now. It doesn't make it hurt less though."
"Can I hug you?" My mother asks, stepping towards me but I step away, unable to offer her the contact that she asked for, I cannot deal with that right now.
"I would advise against it unless you want me to have a panic attack. I uh, when talking about 'it' I can't cope with contact. I'm sorry." I say, shaking my head and wiping the tears from my eyes.
"It's okay, I'm not mad at you." She explains. I'm unsure as to how she knows of my fear, but I manage to muster a small smile, appreciating that she sees me, the real me. "I'm proud of you for telling me."