There Was No Stopping It

Deal Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Eenie, meenie, miney, moe. Should I stay or should I go? Should I stay or should I go? There was no stopping it. I looked at the passenger seat and eyed the prescription bottle of Xanax. Picking up the half-empty container, I twisted the cap, my gloved hand trembling as I popped two tablets into my mouth. Throwing my head back, I chased them down with the last of the vodka in my silver flask. I’d stared at the house for so long that my eyes were dry from lack of blinking. Reaching over, I silenced the radio and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. Quiet enveloped the car’s interior, leaving only the engine’s hum to calm my nerves. When I opened my eyes again, I was fighting the urge to cry. Snowflakes pinged the windshield, dissolving into tiny drops of water. The warmth of the car was deceiving: Boston was being blasted with a snowstorm. Driving to my mother’s house had been no easy task. Several roads were buried in two feet of snow or more, and the weather wasn’t going to get any better. The thought of being stranded—with the one person who reminded me of a past I’d rather forget—made me all the more anxious. I was tempted to put the car in reverse and leave. It had been months since I’d seen my mom, and when the phone call came out of the blue the day before, I’d accepted her invitation out of guilt. I knew I wasn’t being fair. After all, what had happened wasn’t my mother’s fault. Was it? For months, I’d been distancing myself from everyone. That’s what I did. Whenever I felt overwhelmed with life and the injustice of it all, I retreated. No phone calls, no visits. Just solitude. And alcohol. When that wasn’t enough, drugs. Anything to get my mind off reality. Time. I just need time. I quickly popped an Altoid into my mouth. Lifting my chin, I groaned. “All right,” I murmured. “You can do this.” I slapped my thighs and took a deep breath. Before I could change my mind, I turned the ignition key, silencing the engine, then stretched to the passenger side and grabbed the paper bag that was on the floor. After trudging across the snow-covered walkway, I stamped up onto the porch, snow whipping furiously around the trees of the large, classic Colonial home, as the wind chimes sent out warnings about the storm. For a moment, I was transported back in time, to tire swings and catching fireflies with my dad, and, later, to memories of a life I wished I never had. Although I’d grown up in this house, I felt like a stranger visiting. My shoulder jolted violently but I wasn’t sure if the cause was the cold air or my nerves. I didn’t knock; instead, I turned the doorknob and entered. My mother was waiting inside the foyer, smiling. Not a natural smile, but a welcome-to- our-open-house smile. “Taylor,” she said, “you’re here.” The frigid air followed me into the house. The wind was so fierce, I had to use my entire body to close the door. I brushed the powdery snow from the front of my coat and pounded the slush from my boots. “Amanda,” I said, and smiled back in the same open-house way. She scowled. “Mom.” “Oh, lighten up. You know I’m kidding,” I said, removing my gloves. “Sorry I’m late. The traffic in town was wicked crazy.” I handed her the paper bag. “Chinese? Wasn’t sure what to get, so I just ordered a bunch of things.” My lips were cold and dry, making it hard to speak. “The house looks nice,” I managed, acutely aware of how lame my words sounded. I pulled my hat from my head, avoiding my mother’s eyes. She’d been trying to convince me to cut my hair for years, insisting that it would appear more professional and true to my age. I liked my auburn hair just the way it was—and besides, it was one of the things my husband loved. So I ignored her. My coat and scarf weren’t completely off when I noticed someone on the sofa in the living room. The slender, well-dressed blonde waved timidly at me and smiled. “Surprise.” “Cassie?” I said, my jaw dropping. Like a tidal wave, relief washed over me. When I’d first met Cassie our freshman year of college, she’d been annoyingly perky and always the center of attention—in other words, the complete opposite of me. Luckily for me, she never let up badgering me to join her at social events. I finally gave in and had so much fun that a life-long friendship was forged. Even though I never told her, a friend was exactly what I’d needed, something I’d missed immensely in high school. “What are you doing here?” I said to her. I hung up my things and looked at my mom. “You didn’t tell me that Cassie was coming. I’d’ve brought more food.” Placing her hands on my shoulders, my mom nudged me into the living room. Why did I suddenly feel like a lamb being led to slaughter? Clearing her throat, she said, “We, uh, Cassie and I, just happened to bump into each other yesterday at the market. I told her you were coming over and thought she’d like to join us.” The open-house grin returned. “Sorry. I didn’t even think that you might bring dinner.” I gave my mother a half-hearted, cheek-to-cheek hug, and then turned towards Cassie, who’d stood. “No worries,” I said. “I always love seein’ Cass.” Once I had finally let her friendship in, we’d been practically inseparable through college. After we graduated, Cassie landed a job as a software consultant for a start-up tech company. When the dot-com industry took off, so had her career. I’d pursued a position in Paris and, over the years, we hadn’t found much time to spend together. Our careers had consumed us. But whenever we did manage to see each other, we didn’t miss a beat. Until recently. I gave Cassie a quick hug followed by a peck on each cheek. I hadn’t shaken the European greeting I’d become accustomed to while living abroad. “Well,” my mom cut in, “I’ll let you two catch up.” She turned and disappeared into the kitchen. Cassie brushed her hand along my arm. “How’re you doing? I’ve been meaning to call, but…” Guilt beset me—I was the reason we hadn’t seen each other or spoken in so long. “No. I get it. People don’t know what to say.” Rubbing my arms, I shuddered, wishing the Xanax would kick in. I moved swiftly to the couch, not knowing quite how to change the subject. Cassie sat beside me, and the concern in her hazel eyes twisted my stomach tighter. “Seriously, Taylor. How are you, really? No bullshit.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine.” I swatted her wrist. “I am,” I said, wanting to believe it. “Here you go.” My mom had returned from the kitchen carrying a bamboo tray with three tall glasses filled with iced tea. I watched her set the tray on the coffee table. When she remarried after my father died, at my stepfather’s insistence she’d joined the right social circles to help both of them climb Boston’s coveted ladders of success. Even though she was gracious, polite, and welcoming, to me she never really fit the role of society housewife or women’s auxiliary club president. My mom always seemed more comfortable baking cookies with me or spending time curled up with a good book. But, like the dutiful wife, she did as James asked in order to keep the peace. “I thought you girls might like something to drink. I know it’s snowing outside, but iced tea is never out of season, right?” The glasses clinked against each other as she took one and sat back onto a taupe and cream striped armchair. I stared at both women as I lifted a glass, wishing the drink was something stronger. Something wasn’t right. My mother’s story about running into Cassie at the store didn’t make any sense. Cassie lived in a completely different part of town—what were the chances she happened to be shopping at my mother’s favorite market? I gulped the tea, set the glass down on the tray and frowned. “All right. What’s going on?” My mother swallowed some tea and began coughing violently. “Wrong… p...pipe,” she got out, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wheezed and pounded her chest. Finally, she caught her breath. While Cassie took an exceptional interest in the details of the Oriental rug beneath her feet, I watched my mother impassively, my knees bouncing with anxiety. I knew I shouldn’t have come, and now I wanted nothing more than to escape. Standing abruptly, I bolted into the foyer and grabbed my purse from the hall tree. “I’ll be right back.” I left the two stunned women with only the clinking ice cubes to break the awkward silence. I couldn’t get into the bathroom fast enough.

Load more