This story is by Audrey Eiland and was part of our 2024 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
A swift swing of the gavel, followed by an impatient not guilty has ended the past twenty months of agony, until a text message from my mother comes through and sits unanswered.
My husband slumps forward in the stiff chair across from me at our quaint dining room table, and the dim lighting overhead flickers intermittently. His tired eyes set on mine, exhausted from the long day of trial. He gets up from his chair and heads to the kitchen while my stomach gurgles from both hunger and nausea, it’s been impossible to eat anything all day.
He returns with a cup of hot tea, the scent of chamomile fills my nostrils as he sets it down in front of me, knowing this is the only thing that eases my stomach when I’m stressed.
“Claire, you know I hate when she puts you in this position.” He pinches his thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose as he slides back into his chair.
I twirl my spoon around the edges of my teacup letting it circle around and around. My heart pangs with feelings of guilt. For not supporting my husband from the start. For giving into my mother’s harsh criticism and almost letting her convince me that he was a bad guy. For not doing what I felt was right in that moment and taking a backseat to her again like I always did. For letting it all get so bad that it got to this point.
I even wore my hair up in an uncomfortable ponytail today because she always says it makes me look more put-together and mature.
His soft stroke on my hand pulls me back to our conversation.
My voice just barely comes out above a whisper, “I’m at a crossroad.” Can I, can we, put this behind us and move on with our lives?
The phone beeps a reminder. My body tenses. This is the longest I’ve gone without texting her back.
How can I betray the woman who brought me into this world? I would be devastated if my own child turned his back on me. She saved me from myself more than once, the time I hear about most is when she took me back in after I left my abusive ex.
Tigers can’t change their stripes, she reminded me.
He sighs, allowing a long deep breath to escape his pinched lips.
“She tried to destroy everything we built together.” His voice is heavy. His eyes pierce into mine with unbridled urgency. It could’ve all been taken away with the swing of the gavel in the opposite direction.
“Your mother lied to the judge. She knows damn well what happened to our son. I know you weren’t there to hear her testimony, but what she said about me…”
The feet of his chair scrape against the hardwood floor echoing with the flickering light. He grabs hold of the edge of the table for support.
“You said yourself, in your own testimony, that I would never hurt our son. You said you believed me. If you really do believe me, you wouldn’t let that woman continue to destroy our lives.”
My body quivers.
His eyes soften as he sees the pain in mine. “I know how hard this is for you, and that you love her, but she is the worst thing for you. She’s hurt you too many times, always putting you down, never making you feel like you were a good mother to our son. She’s made you feel small your whole life.”
His pleading sharpens the pain in my chest.
My head wavers. My mother, who’s been there my whole life, or my husband who is my new life. He knows all the pain I feel when I look back on my childhood. He’s sat in with me during countless therapy sessions where I cried so hard I slept for days after.
Tigers can’t change their stripes.
He’s helped me overcome so much, yet now I feel as though I’m failing him.
But my mother’s text message remains Xeroxed in my brain, only making this harder. Believe me when I tell you that this trial was not something I was looking forward to. I was subpoenaed and it was mandatory for me to be there. All I did was speak honestly, and I’m sorry if this is something you don’t want to hear. I hope we can move past this and continue to be a family, even if that does include Mark. You and little Logan are the happiest parts of my life. And you know I will do anything I can to protect you and steer you in the right direction. I love you so much. I flip my phone face down on the table and shove it away from me. My chest burns with pain and confusion. I’d hate for my son to not know his grandmother. Holidays would never be the same.
My eyes land on Mark again. “I don’t see how you can give her the benefit of the doubt anymore.” He shakes his head solemnly then works his way over to me, placing a tired hand on my shoulder. I grab it, giving it a tight squeeze. Either way I’d be betraying one of them.
I stand up, lightly push my chair in, give my husband a quick kiss goodnight, and putter over to the stairs.
I’ll text my mother tomorrow morning after I’ve had a chance to sleep on it.
I glance over at my husband from the stairs, he’s cleaning up my tea cup and straightening all the chairs at the table. He knows how much I hate leaving the house a mess before bed. My heart warms and I make my way up the stairs. My son’s lullabies float from his room as I walk past.
Maybe always doing what I’m told is no longer what’s best for me.
Maybe I should trust my instincts.
Or maybe I’m still too naïve.
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