A Second Chance

"How was your day, Ang?" her mother asked from across the dining table. It was their routine, at least since she and her kids had moved back in with her mother. Some nights she hated the boring monotony of it, feeling tedious, more than anything. Angie knew she didn't have to join her mother, but she felt like she owed it to her for whatever reason, whether she was in the mood for it or not. Some nights she could tell her mom wasn't really in the mood either, only lingering 5 or 10 minutes before retiring to bed.

Other nights, like tonight, Angie savored the one-on-one time, needing to vent to someone, anyone, and her mother had always been there for her.

It always started the same too: How was your day, Ang?, her mother would ask. Sometimes the simpleness and familiarity of the sentence alone was enough to trigger her to shut down. Even on the nights she opened up to her mom, Angie was always somewhat cautious about what she disclosed. She had always been that way, with nearly everyone in her life, and wasn't sure why, exactly, but she suspected it had something to do with her father leaving when she was 5.

"Not great," she shook her head tiredly, laying her head in her hands, arms propped upright on the table.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" her mother asked sweetly, though she had never forced Angie to talk about anything she hadn't wanted to in her entire life.

Just thinking about the day's events brought tears to Angie's eyes. She sniffled a little as she looked up at her mother, her eyes already brimming with tears.

"I heard 'Angie' on the radio today as I was slipping through. I know I shouldn't have stopped on it, but I couldn't help myself," silent tears ran down her face.

She absolutely hated that Rolling Stones song. Catchy? Yes. Depressing? Also yes. Of course, having her name in it, Jerry always thought it was romantic, somehow, singing it to her whenever they heard it playing anywhere. She had always wondered whether he had ever actually paid any attention to the lyrics or their meaning at all. Or if it was some sort of weird redemption attempt he kept up through all of their years together after their "break". Regardless, she had hated it before his death and hated hearing it even more since because it made her think of him.

"Oh, Angie," her mom replied sympathetically.

Angie almost, almost, resented her mother for giving her the name, but she knew that was silly. That wasn't the name her mother had given her, of course. It was Angela. And, although she had been born a good decade after the song had come out, there was no way for her mother to know at the time that her daughter's future husband would become so fixated on it. No, Angie was 37 years old. She knew better than to blame her mother.

"What was even worse was tucking John into bed tonight," Angie shook her head again, swiping tears away from both eyes before meeting her mother's gaze again.

"It was another one of 'those nights'."

They each knew what that meant. For several weeks after Jerry's funeral, her 4 year-old son would ask when "daddy was coming home." Angie's first instinct was always to lash out at him, especially after the rumors of Jerry's infidelity started, but she never did. He was 4, for Christ's sake. He didn't know any better and for that matter, didn't quite get it. He wasn't old enough to. They'd had a closed casket ceremony since Jerry had ended up more as remains than a body. Nobody had seen him before the funeral, including herself. In her poor 4 year-old's head, daddy was just away somewhere, set to come back any time because he had no reason to believe otherwise, despite the funeral. And, while he was sad at it, you couldn't really expect a person that young to fully understand the brevity, the finality of it, could you?

John finally stopped bringing it up night after night and it had been a good month, month and a half, since he had said anything about his dad coming home...Which made it that much harder to deal with when he did bring it up unexpectedly. Angie had hoped that maybe he finally understood.

"Mommy, when is daddy coming home?" he asked out of the blue, sweetly, innocently. It was all she could do not to break down into tears right then and there.

Angie took a deep breath.

"We've talked about this before, remember?"

John just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. Angie held back a sigh.

"Daddy's not coming home," she spoke as evenly as she was able. "He got into a really bad accident in his car and got really hurt."

"Is he going to be ok?" her son looked at her, concerned, only able to focus on one thing at a time in his sleepy state.

"No, John," she said through gritted teeth. Angie knew it wasn't his fault for not understanding, but she was tired and already mentally exhausted.

Her son seemed to contemplate this for a moment.

"So, he's not coming home? Ever?" he asked meekly.

"No, John! He's dead!" she finally snapped. She felt bad as soon as she did not only because her young son started crying right away, but because she knew he didn't deserve her lashing out at him.

"He hasn't brought it up in a while, though, has he?" Angie's mother asked.

"No, and I wasn't exactly gracious about it this time," she looked down at her lap, so ashamed at how she had treated her 4 year-old boy that she couldn't even look her mother in the eyes. The image of him, the look of hurt and confusion, flashed through her mind once more, forcing her to choke back a sob.

"Oh, Angie," her mother said again as she stood from her side of the table, closing the short distance between them to hug her daughter.

Angie wrapped her arms tightly around her mom and couldn't hold back her sobs of despair anymore. She desperately needed the hug, the warmth of another human, and it was enough to send her over the edge.

She couldn't help but think of all the ways her life was fucked up now as she finally let all of her pent up emotions out. Her mother said nothing, just stroked her hair occasionally, for who knew how long. Time seemed irrelevant at the moment. Angie felt like she was stuck in time all the time, for that matter. She finally pulled away.

"It's alright, Ang. He'll be ok. He's young," her mother insisted, taking the seat next to her instead of opposite her.

"And whatever you did or said, he'll forgive you. You're his mother," she smiled.

"I can't keep on living like this, mom," Angie spoke quietly, still trying to put her ugly crying to an end.

"It's not just today. It's every day. Yah, some days are better than others, but I just feel stuck, you know? Like nothing is ever going to get better, nothing is going to change."

Her mom seemed to think about this for a minute, not speaking, but lost deep in thought.

Angie felt awkward, not sure what else to say.

"What do you think you could do to try and change things?" her mom asked seriously.

"Build a time machine and never agree to go out with Jerry?" Angie replied without missing a beat.

"Angela, I'm being serious," she gave her daughter "the mom look".

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I don't know. It's like I was telling my friend the other day, it's not like I have time for therapy. Medication is out of the question. He tried to convince me that moving someplace new might solve my problems. Can you imagine?"

Angie's mom didn't answer right away, so she kept talking.

"Where would I even more to? Who would watch the kids on short notice if I needed it? Everyone I know lives here. Speaking of the kids, what about school? What about their friends? I'm pretty sure Candace would hate me forever if we just up and moved somewhere. She's still not talking to me as it is. Plus, I mean, wouldn't that just be running away from my problems? What's that going to solve? That wouldn't be fair to the kids, would it? It's my problem, not theirs."

"Angie?" her mom interrupted.

"What?"

"You're rambling."

"I know," she sighed again, rubbing her tired eyes. "It's just too much to think about. I don't even know why I'm thinking about it anyway. I already told my friend he was crazy for even suggesting it."

"What if, and hear me out," her mother held a hand up, "it's not the craziest idea ever?" Lynn looked at her, waiting for a response.

Angie had no words she was so surprised by her mother's words.

"Sweetie, I know you don't talk about it, but don't you think I've heard the rumors too? About what Jerry was up to before his accident? It's a small town. Whether it was true or not, those kids," she pointed upstairs, "have probably already heard some too, and if not, it won't be long. You should know that. Don't fool yourself, Angie."

She had thought of it, but foolishly tried to put it out of her mind with school being out now, hoping they hadn't already heard something in the last few months. If any of them had, they hadn't brought it up with her.

"And don't think I haven't noticed that you never go out with any of your friends anymore. It's not just from mourning, is it?"

"No," Angie replied solemnly.

"When was the last time you heard from anyone?" her mother genuinely wanted to know.

"Not since the funeral," she practically mumbled.

"That doesn't really count, though, does it?"

Angie shook her head.

"Listen, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, but Angie," Lynn paused. "There's nothing for you here," she spoke softly, letting her words sink in.

"What about you? And Aunt Cathy? And Uncle Tim?"

"What about us? We'll still be here. You can visit any time you like. You'll always be welcome here."

"But mom..."

"Angie," she held her hand up again, "This town isn't good for you and I think you already know that. I know it's scary to think of leaving for good, but can you really see yourself ever being happy here again?"

Angie fought back a fresh wave of tears.

"No," her voice trembled.

"Then at least think about it seriously," Lynn patted her shoulder gently.

"It's not that simple, mom. I have to think about the kids too. Just because I'm unhappy doesn't mean I should overturn the kids' lives even more by moving."

"They're young. They'll make new friends. And sure, they may not like it at first, but you need to take care of yourself too or you'll never be able to move on."

Angie broke down again at this because she knew her mother was right. She couldn't live with the pitied looks anymore. She couldn't live with the hushed whispers behind her back at the store or gas station. She couldn't live in a place where she knew everyone, but they all seemed to know something important about her that she didn't.

Once Angie finally freed herself from her thoughts, she found her mother holding her tight again.

"I didn't mean to upset you again," Lynn released her, smoothing Angie's hair.

"It's ok. I needed that. I've been feeling pretty dead inside lately. It was good to feel something," she paused. "I guess I have a lot to think about," she sighed, resigned.

6:07 am.

Angie squinted at the numbers on her cell phone as she silenced the alarm. It was supposed to go off at 6 sharp. She had no memory of hitting the snooze button, or ever hitting the snooze button in her adult life, for that matter. Her eyes felt dry and bloodshot as she tried to force them open further, groaning her way towards the upstairs bathroom next to her room.

This particular morning she was thankful to not be sharing a room with any of her children, not wanting to wake any of them with her moans of displeasure at being awake. Bea had been generous in offering to let John sleep in the other room upstairs with her when they had moved back in with her mom. For the life of her, Angie still couldn't understand why Candace had chosen the basement, of all places, to sleep in. Was she really that horrible to be around, that her oldest daughter didn't even want to sleep in the same room as her? Even the pullout sofa bed in the living room would have been a better choice than the cold, lonely basement. It was one of the many things about Candace she had learned not to dwell on too much since her husband's passing. More and more, though, Angie felt something growing inside of her, like a cancer, telling her not to be passive about her daughter's behavior too long. Some days she felt like she might never get her back, out of the own dark place Candace had retreated to.

Angie clicked on the bathroom switch, illuminating light onto her from above the mirror over the sink. She immediately regretted it.

Her eyes were as bloodshot as they felt. Dark, heavy bags hung underneath them. Even her eyelids were puffy. Not that she much felt mentally prepared for work that day anyway, but she resigned to do something she rarely did: Call in sick to work. As if people around town didn't already have enough to talk about as far as she and Jerry were concerned, she wasn't about to give them more fodder with how ragged she looked.

"Has my face always looked so thin?" she wondered, moving her head from side to side in the mirror.

"And when did my cheeks get that sunken look?" Angie shook her head, looking away, and returned to her bedroom to call work.

She made sure the kids got ready for vacation bible school, made sure they were fed, made sure they got on the bus. Angie both relished the monotony of it all, being just like their routine during the school year, and hated it. She wasn't particularly religious, but the kids always seemed to enjoy VBS. Angie thought it was particularly important they go this year to take their minds off other things.

The girls said nothing about her robed attire, but her little boy didn't seem to have any qualms about asking.

"Why are you still in your robe, mommy?" John asked as he ate his Life cereal.

"I'm just not feeling great today, sweetie. Nothing to worry about," she forced a weak smile.

"You're not going to get sick and die like daddy, are you?"

Her 4 year-old's innocent enough question was enough to break her down into another crying spell. Angie hugged him tight.

"No, no. I'm not sick and I'm not dying. Get that idea out of your head now before you start worrying about it for no good reason," she managed to speak, kissing the top of his head.

"I love you guys," she choked as she retreated from the kitchen.

"Mom," she whispered as she passed her chair, letting her know that she couldn't deal with anymore at the moment and to please finish up with the kids before they left.

Angie cried her eyes out in her room again after that. She hadn't cried in so long and now that the dam had been broken last night, it was like she couldn't stop. She fleetingly wondered how much longer this new behavior of hers would go on before falling back asleep...

She woke up feeling disoriented, to say the least, and as if some tiny little beings had drained all of the fluid from her eyeballs. Angie couldn't help but imagine a miniature chupacabra sinking its fangs into her eyes while she was sleeping and giggled despite her shitty mood. She remembered how rough she looked in the mirror that morning and expertly avoided the mirror as she started the shower water. Her phone claimed it was 2:17 in the afternoon before she grudgingly left her bedroom. Angie was shocked she had slept that long. She was not normally one to take naps, but figured she must have needed the extra sleep in her mentally and emotionally exhausted state. She didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for taking the day off.

Angie stood with the hot water beating her face for several minutes when she got in the shower, letting her mind wander against her better judgment. It wasn't long before all of the "what ifs?" started swirling around her head.

"What if we move? What if I can't find work? What if the kids hate it? What if I hate it? What if Jimmy and I don't get along in-person?" That last one hung her up the most. Angie couldn't imagine that ever happening. People change over the years and she and Jimmy were no exception, but she still considered him one of the best friends she had ever had and still had, much to her surprise.

It wasn't as if they had stayed in contact regularly over the years. Why did she still feel so drawn to him? Why did she still feel like she could tell him anything? Why was it so easy to open up to him? Why did he feel so comfortable?

Angie rubbed her eyes before she went about washing. She wondered if her mother was home. She desperately needed to speak with her before the kids got home from vacation bible school. Not much time. Less than an hour by the time she would get done in the shower. Angie hurried through the rest of her routine getting dressed and padded down the stairs. She found her mother sitting on the couch in the living room, watching some tv show she had DVRed the night before.

"Hey, mom," she spoke softly, suddenly feeling timid and embarrassed by the way she had acted over the past 24 hours. Angie refused to let her feelings keep her from spilling the beans she needed to spill to one of the few people she trusted. She sat down in the recliner instead of the other end of the couch, giving her a less awkward angle to talk to her mother.

"Hey, sweetheart," Lynn paused her show. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better. I hope I at least look better than I did this morning," she patted the side of her own face, implying she didn't want her kids to know what a mess she was.

"You look fine," her mother insisted. "The kids are still going to know something is up, you taking off work and all," Lynn stated simply.

"I know," she spoke quietly, pausing. "Can I talk to you about that?" Angie looked at her mom expectantly.

"Of course," her mother gave her full attention, angling her body.

Angie took a deep breath before continuing.

"I've been thinking about what you said last night. But I have to ask again...Do you think I would be doing a disservice to the kids by moving?"

Lynn seemed to ponder this a moment before speaking.

"No, I don't. They may not like it at first, and they may not even understand the reasons for your decision, if that's what it is you're making, until they're adults themselves, but they'll understand eventually," she paused. "They need their mother back," Lynn looked at her seriously.

Angie knew she hadn't meant to make her feel that way, but she felt ashamed as soon as the words left her mother's mouth.

"I know," she looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "That's why I'm struggling to decide what's best for everyone."

"Angela, I'm not trying to make you feel worse than you do and I'm not trying to place blame on you, but I think maybe you've been more detached than even you realize."

Angie felt the newly familiar sting of tears threatening in the corners of her eyes.

"I think you're right," she whispered, shaking her head slightly. "I've been stuck on autopilot for so long just to get by without turning into a full-blown mess that I haven't really thought about how it's affecting the kids until recently. I've been too stuck in survival mode," she sniffled.

"I know, sweetheart. I know. But you can't live like that forever."

"I know," she nodded. "But I don't know how to get out of that mode, not here." A long silence filled the air as Angie fought to keep her composure.

"Then move," Lynn finally said. More silence ensued as Angie tried to form coherent thoughts.

"But what if it makes them hate me? What if it makes things worse between me and the kids? Especially Candace. I mean, can you imagine?"

"I told you. They will understand in time, even if it's years from now."

"I can't afford years with her, mom, and you know it. I already feel like I'm losing her." This thought made Angie break down in tears again.

She and her oldest daughter had always been close until Jerry passed away. A switch had been flicked off in her overnight. Candace no longer wanted to talk to her, at all, when before she would, and wanted, to tell her everything. Angie had been avoiding thinking about anything that might cause her pain or emotion of any sort since her husband's death, including Candace's sudden distance. Thinking about it now made her heart hurt.