"I don't use any of grandfather’s money. And I don't want his money."
"Whose? Your father's?"
"No. Your husband's money," I say trying to stay calm. What the hell is she doing?
Smiling again like what I said is exactly what she wanted to hear, she leans forward a little to ask, "Oh? So you live off your husband’s money only?"
"No! Well, yes, but he's not like that. What's his is mine, and..." I shrug trying to end this. What the hell is her angle here? And why does she care about all the money?
Reigning in my confusion, I decide to just ask the question. "Why am I here? You said you wanted to talk to me because it was very important. Actually, you said what you had to tell me was life or death because you needed to tell me some things I didn’t know. So talk, please."
Looking at me with her very pissed off face, I doubt she liked me talking back or demanding anything of her because that’s not really our thing. Actually that’s never been our thing. As far as I remember I never spoke to her or questioned her when she was my mother, except over my long hair which she hated back then. And that was the only fight she ever lost with me.
"I have some questions for you, Suzanne," she says in her deadly calm voice, and I know what’s coming. She’s about to slaughter me.
Exhaling and leaning a little further away in my chair, I know somehow she’s about to hurt me in this game. I can see it and even feel it. I remember that tone of hers before she would hurt me.
Knowing what’s coming, I go for broke. What do I have to lose? Well, other than my sanity I smile to myself as she watches me.
"And I have some questions for you as well," I add knowing what’s coming but almost comfortable with it because I’m not going to be caught off guard.
Smiling back at me, she continues the game. "Really? Like what?" Leaning back in her chair to mirror my posture she folds her hands together casually and waits.
Looking at me like I'm a piece of shit again, I find I can't really speak, or ask, or even think clearly. But she’s still just waiting triumphantly for me to ask what we both know I’m going to ask her inevitably.
Pulling in a big breath, the only word that leaves my mouth is "Why?"
"Why what, darling?" She grins knowing I can't get the words out.
"Why did you do that stuff to me?" There. Holy shit! I asked it.
"What ‘stuff’, Suzanne?" She smirks quoting me as I begin shaking. In the silence between us I can see her absolute pleasure at where I’m headed. She's trying to mindfuck me, and she's going to win again as usual. She's doing her calm I hate you thing, and I feel her hatred in my chest so suddenly, my breathing is getting labored and my hands are shaking. Really, I feel like a total piece of shit again she’s so good at this game.
"Never mind," I gasp. Oh shit. I'm not doing this. I took an extra pill before walking in here to keep me calm. I wrote everything down, and I said goodbye to Z this morning promising to not let her hurt me. I promised Z.
"Never mind?" She grins her evil grin, and as I watch her hands separate I see them as they always were. White, bony, evil skeleton hands.
Tapping on the table her nails are much longer than she used to have the perfectly manicured French tipped nails of my childhood. Staring at her hands, they look so much worse than I remember.
Her hands not only look like they could strangle me slowly, but they look like they could actually rip my skin open now too. Her hands look like I remember but so much worse.
Standing up quickly, I actually make enough noise with my chair to have a guard stand to look at me. But it doesn't matter. I'm totally done.
"I'm done with you."
"Nice face, Suzanne. How does your husband stand looking at you?" She laughs as everything stops around us.
Slumping back in my chair I hear no voices and I feel no air. There is nothing but her laughter and her mean face staring at me in silence.
"Answer me!" She growls leaning up to the glass closely and I almost jump backward. Almost. But the glass is there and I know she can't touch me. I know it though every part of me wants to flee from her before she can wrap her hands around my throat again.
"You're so stupid, Suzanne. Stupid, simple, fat little Suzanne. You are nothing but only an ass to fuck and a mouth to suck. And I think you should thank me, darling," she laughs again.
Even as I hear her, I'm stunned into asking what I thought I never would ask in my life. "Why would I thank you?" I groan as the shaking takes me fully.
Tapping the glass with her nails to get my attention, she smiles so evilly I shiver before I even hear her answer.
"Well darling, because I taught you how to suck and fuck, and with a body like that, and a face as hideous as yours, your bedroom skills must be the only thing keeping your husband around. Am I right?"
"No," I cry. "Z loves me!" I yell smacking the glass with my palm.
Shaking her head at me, she actually makes her disgusting tsking noise and breathes an obnoxious, "Okay, darling," as I watch in horror.
"He does love me. And I'm not stupid. I NEVER WAS!" I scream before I can stop myself, but it's too late. The guard is already at my side speaking to me in calm tones words I can't understand.
Laughing at me, my mother actually raises her skinny, skeleton hand and scratches a fingernail down her cheek where my scars are. Staring at my stunned face, she even rubs her fingers tighter signaling money before laughing so loudly the visitor 2 chairs down from me stands to take a look at her.
Gasping in shock I feel a hand on my arm, and before I lose it totally, I say everything.
"You’re wrong about me. I'm not a whore, and I'm not shit. My husband loves me, and I have money of my own if I need it, but I don't. I'm beautiful and fabulous- scars and all." Speaking past her crazy sounding laugh, I finish us forever. "You're an evil bitch! Goodbye, Elizabeth. You're finally dead to me."
Stepping to my side, I actually grab onto the guard’s arm for a moment, which though totally strange and unlike me is all I can do to get away.
I don't think my feet will work on their own, and I can barely breathe. Everything feels so unreal to me, I hold onto his arm even as he tries to push me off him like maybe I'm a threat. Oh! Shit. Just like I'm a threat.
"I'm sorry," I mumble letting him go quickly as another guard bares down on me. "I have to go now. Please help me out of here," I beg desperately.
Not touching me at all, the prison guard walks quickly toward the huge metal door which suddenly buzzes open drowning out her laughter behind me.
And then I'm out.
Crying, I'm escorted out by a different guard ignoring me completely. Walking through another loud buzzer and more doors, I'm walked down another goddamn corridor. Walking, we even pass a prison gift shop. Really? I finally start laughing. Okay, that's like the only time in my life I haven't wanted to go shopping, I giggle-cry still walking as quickly as I can for anywhere but here.
Waiting in a line of 4 other people to collect my things, I have to walk back out through metal detectors. Screaming inside I want to ask why? I don't understand why we'd leave with weapons we didn’t have before.
God, I’m so desperate for air. I'm losing it, but slowly, which is the best kind of losing it for me. It's not quick and sudden, making me lose all control. It's slow, so I can manage a little control before I lose it totally in private.
Gasping while ripping off my name tag and handing over my driver’s license again, I’m bouncing to get out while a guard slowly pulls my purse and coat from an orange bin on a shelf behind him.
"Please hurry," I moan as he hands me my stuff before making me sign a sheet of contents. Crying, “I don't care! Take it all. I just need my phone for Christ’s sake,” he ignores me completely.
I need my phone so badly I actually dump my purse right there on the floor. And. I. Don't. Give. A. Shit. People are looking and watching me, but it doesn’t matter what they think. I need my goddamn phone.
Tapping in the 4 num
ber code, Z's picture fills my screen and I suddenly laugh. He's so good looking it’s unbelievable. Christ, even on a phone he's hot as hell.
Waiting for just one ring I jump in before he can. "Z! I'm sorry. And you were right! I'm done and I need to see you, and please just-"
"Suzanne, listen-"
"She's such a cunt, Z," I say pausing before I burst out laughing. Holy SHIT! "Wow... I just said the baddest bad word ever and I don't even feel bad. Because she is, Z. She's a total cunt," I say again laugh-crying nervously. I can’t believe I said that word. But it's so true. She's just so nasty and evil, and seriously, why the hell did she want me here?
"Walk out the doors, baby." What? Baby? Ummmm... I kinda like that name sometimes, and it doesn't really feel dirty or like a bad name when Z says it to me.
"What?" I pause trying to get all my scattered purse contents and even my scattered thoughts together to understand what he means.
"Walk out the fucking door, Suzanne. Now," he growls as I breathe slowly. Grabbing my purse stuff my feet start walking to the main doors and my freedom from the evil bitch now known as the Cunt, I laugh again.
Throwing open the door, I see him. Standing there with his phone to his ear, he turns to me to walk so quickly I stare with my phone still at my ear. "Oh, god..."
Being lifted right into his arms, Z turns me against a wall and bends down low in my face to stare at me. Staring, he wipes my face, and leans his forehead against mine until I finally just drop the phone from my ear to the ground.
"You came anyway." I choke up as he does. "You came anyway. Oh, god. Thank you so much. I love you so much. I'm so sorry," I cry between gasps as he tries to shush me quiet. "I can't believe you came anyway," I burst into tears wrapping my hands around his shoulders so tightly I have to move my face to the side to breathe.
"I did," he whispers as I hold on tighter exhaling my upset to breathe him into me deeply. His scent and his warmth once again ground me in a way that I've never known before him.
"I said good bye. It's done. She's exactly the same, and I don't know what was so important. She didn't tell me anything. She just insulted me and talked a lot about money. Oh! Am I a gold digger?" I ask pushing my head against the wall so he has to look at me.
"I'm sorry?" He actually shakes his head. "A gold digger?"
"We only use your money to live, and I don't contribute anything, or even have a paying job."
"We use all your trust fund money for our charities, Suzanne. We don't live on it, but we spend it, which is the same thing as pooling our money and spending it jointly on living expenses and charities and donations. We use both our money jointly, Suzanne. Mine to live on, and yours to donate."
"Oh..." Okay. He's right, but I didn't think that clearly when she was accusing me of marrying well.
"For some reason everything was about money with her. My grandfather's, her husband's which apparently I'm getting when he dies, and even yours. She only wanted to talk about money and how ugly I am," I fade out turning my head to the side to look beyond the parking lot. "She still hates me, and she blames me and I'm still shit to her."
"To only her, love. And coming from the most evil cunt I've ever heard of, it doesn't matter what she thinks of you. It has never, and will never matter. Her opinion doesn't count for anything," Z pushes turning my face back to look at him.
Pushing Z away from me gently I mumble, “I need a moment,” as he nods stepping back from me immediately. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans back against the wall and watches me without speaking.
"Maybe she has financial troubles, Z?"
"She does. She's spent much of her money on lawyers, and she had to pay restriction to you."
"She did?" Really?
"Yes. It went into your trust fund, and she was barred from writing her story in a book when she attempted to. There was an injunction put into place, and she was told all monies made on a book deal would have to go to her victim anyway, which is you."
"Oh," I nod. That makes sense, kind of. I mean if my grandfather cut her off, and she and my father are no longer together, and Marcus isn't around to invest their money, and she used tons and had to give me tons, then maybe. "How broke is she?" I ask almost laughing at the thought.
Money is everything to her. It's the only thing she ever cared about. Money and her social standing which she also lost.
"Well, she still has enough money to be wealthy to normal people," Z grins. "But for her a last 2 million would seem like poverty, I think."
"But what can she spend it on? She's in jail? Oh! There was a gift shop," I burst out laughing again.
Hunching over my own knees, I feel insane but not at all. I'm like giggly because everything is so messed up, but I'm not giggly because I’m messed up. And somehow that makes a big difference to me.
Touching my shoulder until I stand again, Z says simply, "I don't think it matters if she can spend it. It only matters to her that she has it." And I know he's right. My mother was obsessed with money always.
"She told me before she only had me to secure her place in my grandfather’s fortune. She said she never wanted me but had to have me. She said I was just a necessity she never wanted or loved because I was nothing to her. And I'm still nothing to her."
"Does it matter?" Z asks gently. "Does it really matter why she had you, or how she hurt you, or what she thinks of you still? No one else thinks like she does and no one else feels like she does. She’s just fucked in the head, Suzanne. And clearly she's been for years."
"I know she is."
Leaning in closer to me, Z looks almost desperate when he speaks. "Please don't make her matter anymore. You came, you saw, and now it's done, I hope."
"It is," I nod walking back into his arms for a little quiet. "Guess what else she said?" I ask leaning into him tighter.
"I don't want to. Can we just forget her?"
"Last thing I promise. I just have to say it so I see your reaction, so I know it's not true. Okay?"
"Okay..." Z breathes stepping away to look at my face intensely. I think he wants to give me the right answer so I'll let this all go for both of us now. And I want that.
"Um, she said I should thank her," I whisper as Z jolts in front of me but doesn't speak. "She said I've only kept you because she taught me how to fuck and suck and how to keep a man," I gag as the nausea threatens to take me. Holding my stomach and swallowing quickly, I barely hold the bile in. "Um, because I'm so stupid and ugly and scarred, it's only because I have an ass made for fucking and a mouth made for sucking that-"
"Jesus Christ, Suzanne! Enough!" Z yells, pulling me back into his arms. "That's not true, love. At all. Have I ever touched you there or taken your..." he doesn’t finish the sentence which I really appreciate. Because just the thought of anal sex right now makes me gag and swallow harder and want to scratch my own skin off with the filthy memories of being little and scared and hurt and used so badly.
He has never taken me back there, and I don't think he ever would. He knows I can't. And he knows I couldn't get past it.
"No, you haven't," I moan. "And I don't really suck you with my mouth enough to keep you, right?" I suddenly burst out laughing at the absurdity of my statement.
Laughing against his chest, Z doesn't laugh with me but he does hold me tighter as I have a tiny, little breakdown.
She's wrong. She taught me nothing but agony, and I don't use any 'skills' she claims I have with Z. Whenever I've done that to Z with my mouth it was because I wanted to, not because he asked or wanted it himself. He has never tried to touch my ass, and he's never wanted to use my mouth. Z knows I can't.
"You know me so well."
"I do," he nods against my head.
"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you about this. But I had to say good bye."
"And did you?" Z asks squatting lower in front of me to look at my eyes.
"I did. She's dead and buried like Marcus, and I can move on now. I don't have a mother, and really,
I never did. She wasn't a mother, Z. And I will never be like her. Ever."
"I know you won't. Everyone knows you won't, Suzanne. You are nothing like her. You are good, and sweet, and so beautiful no matter what life has done, and I couldn't love you more if I tried. You are nothing like her, Suzanne. And-"
Reaching up, I stop his rambling with a little kiss. Just a light kiss, but as he exhales a huff in my mouth I know he needed my kiss. I know he needed me to be okay, and I know he needed us to be okay.
"When is your return flight?"
"The same as yours," he smirks.
"You knew I'd need to be with you?"
"I had hoped you'd need to be with me."
"I'll always need to be with you, Z."
"Good," he smiles before giving me another quick kiss. "We have 3 hours to kill, would you like to grab something to eat?"
"I'd like to see Thomas," I exhale knowing Thomas is exactly what I need right now.
Looking at Z breathing deeply, he takes my hand without words and walks us to a rental car, I assume. Unlocking and helping me inside, he leans into me and asks exactly what I knew he would. "How are you feeling, Suzanne?"
"I'm honestly okay this time. I don't think she'll ever hurt me again, no matter what she does, or what I learn. She's hurt me in a way that can never be trumped, I think. And I don't want to care anymore."
➰➰➰➰➰
Walking hand in hand to Thomas’ grave, I ask for a minute which Z gives me. Sitting on a bench not far from Thomas, I lean into Z, kiss his lips gently, touch his head with my hand, and walk to my son.
My ‘son’ still feels so weird to say but it's true, and I feel it, and I know it's true now. Thomas is my son, and it's about time I acknowledge him as my son.
"Hi, baby," I start while resting on my knees in the snow beside his gravestone. "I'm your mom, and I know I've really sucked at it. I was very messed up when I was carrying you, and I didn't love you like I should've, and I'm very sorry for that. You’ll never understand what I was like then, and I can’t explain it or say sorry enough. And even though it’s a little stupid, I made you something," I whisper pulling from my bag a baby blue blanket.