Chapter 35: Home

Abigail lay basking in the afterglow of the moment she had just shared with Mark. She lay naked on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her, and she felt like every difficult load had been lifted off of her shoulders.

They had been laying like this for a while, speaking intermittently, about everything and anything and nothing. Abigail had lost track of how long they had been laying together.

A comfortable silence had also stretched between them from time to time, a quiet lull that sometimes Abigail thought she was falling asleep in.

Then they would speak again for a bit, and Abigail wasn’t entirely sure which parts of it were dreams and which parts were reality.

“Maybe,” Mark told her after a period of silence. “Maybe marrying a business mogul wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

Abigail felt ice pull all through her, and that serene silence was broken immediately. She wished beyond anything those words were just part of a nightmare, but she knew they were both awake.

“What?” She asked him, her voice small. He couldn’t have said what he just had. Was he really okay with her marrying Lyall? Was Mark really trying to sell her onto the idea of it?

Had this night meant nothing to him?

“Its just a possibility,” Mark said, sensing Abigail’s unease. “Maybe don’t write it off entirely.”

Abigail felt an intense need to get away. So she slowly started moving away from him, until she pushed herself up, and over the side of the bed.

“Abigail?” Mark asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Abigail fought to keep her voice even. “No, not at all. I just, uhm, I have to get going. I hadn’t planned to stay this long.”

“Oh,” Mark said. “But it’s pretty late already, you could stay the night no problem.”

Oh, he wasn’t kicking her out, that was kind.

“No,” Abigail said, getting out of bed, and quickly pulling her clothing on. “No, I really think I should get going. Don’t get up,” she waved him off. “I’ll let myself out.”

Abigail rushed out of his bedroom and then apartment, fighting tears as she went.
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Abigail wasn’t really sure what she’d been expecting with Mark. They’d had lunch three times, barely met in between, and texted only very briefly. Of course, that doesn’t constitute a relationship. Of course, she had read far too much into it than she should have.

And even if she was right, Mark obviously didn’t want to marry into anything that was as imposing as her father’s company. Not to mention the fact how insane everyone was. Hadn’t she herself told Mark every crazy thing that had happened to her since she had started living with her father? Did she really expect that he would hear all of that, and just jump into bed with her and propose marriage?

Abigail shook her head. And since when did she even want to get married? When had she even wanted a serious relationship. But Abigail knew that was ridiculous to question. She’d always wanted it, she’d just never admitted it to herself, afraid of wanting something that was so far out of her reach.

She’d always had to focus on school and work, just so that they could survive. There had never been any time to even think of relationships. She hadn’t been able to afford getting distracted before.

But now, now she could. Now she could afford anything she wanted. And she found, what she wanted, maybe was a relationship. Maybe it was a marriage. If she could have it with Mark.

Mark, obviously, didn’t feel the same.

Abigail sighed and kept walking, not having any direction to go, really.

Abigail decided since she had absolutely nowhere else to go, she would go to the nearest restaurant she could find. Her stomach growled in protest, too.

This wasn’t exactly the worst part of town, but it wasn’t upmarket, either. So Abigail thought they would have decent enough food.

A while ago, the only thing that would have worried her, going into a restaurant, was how expensive and unnecessary of a cost it was. Now, she wondered about the quality of the food. Shaking her head, she pushed on the door and walked through, quickly heading to one of the tables.

A waitress came up to her almost immediately, placing a menu down before her.

“Good day, Ma’am, I’ll be your waitress today,” the woman spoke.

Abigail’s head shot up from her phone, having been reading through her and Mark’s old texts. She knew that voice.

“Mom?” Abigail asked, absolutely surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Abigail,” her mother breathed, and looked at her like she was looking at her daughter for the first time. “What are you doing here?”

Abigail looked her mother over, she wore enough make up and a happy enough voice that would mask the tiredness she must surely be feeling.

“You first,” Abigail shot back. “And sit down with me for a minute.”

“I started working here, now,” her mother told her gently, then looked around. “I suppose it isn’t busy, and my shift is almost done, so I shouldn’t get in too much trouble.”

Emma sat down in the booth opposite her daughter.

“What happened to your job at the other place?” Abigail asked her mom, leaning towards her. “Why aren’t you working there?”

“I am,” her mother answered, nodding. “But I work here now, too.”

“What?” Abigail asked, confused and surprised. Her mother had barely had time from her other work off to herself. “Why?” Abigail asked her mother. “Why would you take on another job?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, Abby,” her mother answered. “With you not living there anymore, and working, the portion your income was covering was open. I had to find something else to cover it.”

Abigail felt deep shame pull through her. Here she was, living the life she had never even dared to dream, and her mother was still stuck where she had left her. Worse, now, because she had left her there.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Abigail asked, and felt the hypocrisy of what she was saying all the same. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in weeks.

But her mother doesn’t berate her. Doesn’t even mention that they hadn’t spoken in weeks or what lead up to it.

“It isn’t your job to worry about me, honey,” Emma told her daughter. “And besides, you were busy, adjusting to that new part of your life. I couldn’t intrude like that, you needed the time to adjust to everything around you.”

Abigail tried her best to fight back tears, but they streamed down her face without her control.

Emma pursed her lips, watching her daughter silently cry in front of her.

“I’m going to sign out quickly,” Emma told her daughter. “And then you’re coming with me, alright?”

Abigail only had the strength to nod.

Abigail waited as her mother signed out, collected her things and took Abigail straight home.

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The small apartment was warm and cozy, which meant her mother had managed to pay all her bills on time and keep the heat on.

Abigail wondered how hard her mother must have been working, since the two of them together could barely cover all the bills. Then again, Abigail had also been studying.

Abigail had forgotten how tiny their apartment was. It was smaller than her room beyond comparison. It might even be smaller than her bathroom. The furniture was aged and well-worn. The fridge was discolored and damaged. The bathroom was beyond repair and probably needed to be demolished and rebuilt. Possibly the kitchen, too.

But it was home.

Emma told Abby to have a seat on the couch, and she made them both a cup of tea. She then brought the cups to the sofa and gave one to Abigail. For all that Abby had been having the best meals of her entire life every single day for the past week, this one cup of tea warmed and satiated her like nothing else had.

Emma didn’t press her for anything. She simply spoke to Abigail about what had been happening with her since she’d last seen her daughter, and mentioned more trivialities than anything else.

Emma knew Abigail would speak in her own time.

And that she did. After a while, Abigail began to tell her mother everything. Incident after incident poured from her lips, every nasty encounter, everything that had nearly cost her her life, everything that had cost her something else.

She told her mother about her father, about what he demanded. About Charlotte, and Olivia, and Lyall. And even Mark.

She told her mother all of it.

And as she spoke, Abigail felt her burdens lesson, and her heart lightened.

And as she finished telling her mother the last of her troubles, she breathed a sigh of relief, and took in a breath of air that didn’t feel constricted, that didn’t fight to get to her lungs.

She felt at peace.