Page 128 of What You left in Me

“Eleanor, my mother is a murder.” I say out loud. I say it because it needs to be said. Tears prickle in my eyes but I refuse to shed any for her. All my life I’ve cried enough because of her. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction anymore.

I turn around and notice the half-empty closet. Her scent still clings to the silk blouses that remain. I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the space where her shoes used to be, wondering if she took the red heels or the black ones. Wondering if she planned this, if she’d been waiting for the perfect scandal to make her grand exit. She always liked an audience.

“I hope you’re happy,” I say out loud. “You finally got to be the victim and the villain.”

The silence that answer feels like her smirk.

XXX

Later, I bring Richard his dinner, a tray with soup, bread, and tea. He doesn’t touch any of it. Just sits there in his armchair, staring at the empty spot on the wall where her portrait used to hang.

“Did you take it down?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

He blinks slowly, eyes tired. “Finn did. Yesterday.”

Of course he did. Finn, with his talent for finishing what no one else has the courage to. I stand there for a while, not sure if I want to thank him or scream.

Richard sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought she was my redemption,” he says quietly. “Maybe I just traded one illusion for another.”

I crouch beside his chair, resting a hand on his arm. His skin is cold. “She fooled everyone, Richard.”

He turns to me then, eyes suddenly alert. “Not you.”

I freeze. “What do you mean?”

“You always saw her,” he says softly. “You just kept forgiving her for being what she was.”

The words cut deep because they were true. I’d spent my whole life defending her, inventing reasons for her cruelty. I thought that was loyalty and she was just being a mom. I never thought this is what she would do.

Tears well in my eyes before I can stop them, and a broken gasp rips out of me. An ugly, raw sound I didn’t even know I could make.

“I’m sorry… Richard. I’m so sorry…”

His eyes go wide— at least I think they do. Everything is a blur. I can barely see, barely breathe. Rage and sorrow twist together until I’m drowning in both.

Why would she do this? How am I supposed to go on like nothing happened?

“Ari…” he murmurs.

“No… please.” My voice cracks as the words tumble out. “Please, Richard. I didn’t know. I knew she wasn’t a good person but I didn’t know she was this. I didn’t know she was capable of the worst.” My hands shake. “I’m so sorry. I know apologizingwon’t change anything… I know it won’t fix a damn thing. But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Just keep being my daughter like always…”

I go in to hug him. He’s my father. Nothing can change that. Not my mother or her actions. We hug for what feels like an eternity until his head lulls and he falls asleep. I sit there, staring at the empty wall, which looks naked.

Days blur together after that. The staff move quieter. The clock ticks louder. The whole estate feels like a museum dedicated to denial. I try to fill the hours, sorting papers, clearing out drawers, and pretending to read. But everything I touch has fingerprints of the past on it. Receipts from Rhode Island. Letters written in Mom’s looping hand.

When I’m clearing out her things, I find a shoebox of half-burned letters under her bed. Receipts tucked between them, dates from before I was born. A photograph of her standing outside a small bar in Rhode Island, smiling that fake, perfect smile. I remember Finn mentioning that place. My stomach turns. I don’t need to look further. I’ve already seen enough truth for one lifetime.

That night, I light a fire in the sitting room. I hold one of her pearl necklaces over the flames. It catches the light beautifully, each bead glowing like a small moon.

“They don’t burn,” I whisper, but I drop it anyway. The string slowly blackens, the pearls cracking with faint pops as they hit the embers. It’s petty, but satisfying. It is the only kind of closure I can afford.

The next morning, Richard asks me to help organize some old files. We work in silence until he says, “Finn came by.”

My heart trips. “When?”

“This morning. You were walking by the lake. He dropped off documents for me. Didn’t stay.”