J. Gonzalez - They

“It was worse when I left,” he murmured.

Lillian’s hand rubbed his knee lovingly, bringing the warm touch his mother never would have bestowed. “Your mother was… very upset with you in the end.”

“But why?” He turned to her, his drink forgotten on the table. “I never thought leaving for college or getting married would make my mother hate me.”

Lillian sighed heavily, as if contemplating the delivering of bad news. “At first I didn’t understand it, Vincent. Your mother’s always been… set in her ways, I guess you could say. And I know that you had it harder than most teenagers when you were growing up. I know your mother wasn’t the most understanding person. But there was one thing she was strong in, and that was her faith in the Lord. Your mother walked the closest walk with the Lord than anybody I’ve known in my life. That’s something to be admired about the woman.”

Fuck my mother’s walk with the Lord , Vince thought, his jaw set in a hard grimace. If abandoning your child’s emotional needs when they’re growing up is part of walking with God, then I want no part of Him . He tried to keep the anger out of his voice. “So she never spoke about me after I left, right?”

“Far from it,” Lillian said. She picked up her glass of iced tea. “She spoke of you often. Prayed for you all the time.”

“Prayed for me?”

“Yes.” Lillian took a sip of iced tea.

“Why?”

Lillian hesitated. “Are you sure you—”

“Yes,” he almost snapped. “Just tell me!”

Lillian blinked in surprise, as if taken aback by Vince’s sudden outburst. Vince closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. He exhaled and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I… I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Lillian said. “You’ve been through a lot lately.”

More than you’d care to imagine , Vince thought. He ran a hand through his hair, took a sip of his iced tea, and leaned forward on the couch, ready to go head-to-head with whatever revelation Lillian had. “Why did she pray for me all the time?”

Lillian sighed. “She believed you were walking with Satan.”

The tension that had been building up in Vince’s limbs evaporated. He let out a breath. Was that all ? According to the way his mother interpreted the Bible, he pretty much expected her to believe he was one of Satan’s minions. Lillian’s confession wasn’t a big surprise. “Why did she think that?” he asked.

“Because according to her, you’d abandoned the Christian faith she raised you in.” Lillian’s eyes were open, gentle. “You didn’t believe. You chose to cloak yourself in worldly things, which the Bible says is aligning yourself with Satan. Are you familiar with the Gospels, Vincent?”

“Yes,” Vince said. He took another sip of his iced tea.

“Then you know what Jesus said about choosing to live in the world, by the ways of the world. That Satan rules this world and its ways are his.”

“That’s all I heard when I was growing up,” Vince said. He set the glass of iced tea down on the table. “I suppose that despite the fact that I didn’t share my mother’s religious beliefs, she assumed I was a sinner and was doomed to Hell. And that because I was, she couldn’t associate with me because I would taint her somehow. Right?”

Lillian reached out again and caressed Vince’s arm. It felt comforting, soothing. “Vincent… I know you’re troubled by all that’s happened. Your mother’s death… your estrangement from her and all. But… she had a good heart. Really, she did. You may think she was crazy, but she really cared about you.”

“I wish she would have showed it,” Vince said. He drained the rest of his iced tea and stood up. “I’ve got to get going.”

Lillian stood up and walked with him to the front door. He had to get out of this house now; he felt his throat locking up. He felt like he was going to cry again. He felt that a little part of him was dying; the part that had never known the joy and love of his mother. The love that a mother can bestow on her son.

He was almost at the front door when he felt Lillian’s hand lightly gripping his arm. “Vincent.”

He stopped and turned. “Yes?”

She looked at him, her eyes brimming again with tears, and then moved forward, taking him in her embrace. He held her, her voice low and crackling. “I’m so sorry, Vincent. I’m so sorry.”

They stood there for a moment, silhouetted in the doorway of Lillian Withers’ comfortable little cottage set off a narrow farm road in rural Pennsylvania as the mid-morning sun peaked high overhead. Vince could feel the day warming up outside. The scent of lilacs wafting through the doorway was fresh in the air. The crisp, clean country air felt good. Vince closed his eyes and held Lillian, feeling a familiar sense of home, of a childhood he’d never had.

When Lillian finally stepped back she looked up at him, her eyes misty. “You’re a good man, Vincent. I think if your mother were here now she’d be proud of you.”

“Lillian—” Vince protested.

Lillian stopped him by tapping her finger on his chest. “Only the Lord knows your heart, Vincent. In the end your mother was too wrapped up in her own—Lord, dare I say— righteousness , to be concerned with the goodness of other’s hearts. It blinded her. She either didn’t see, or refused to see you for the good person you are.”

“Despite the fact I’m a non-believer?” Vince said. He mustered a smile. He’d said it. He was a non-believing atheist.

“Despite the fact that you’re a non-believer,” Lillian said, without missing a beat. Her features were serious. She looked more composed, more in control of herself. “You’re a good man, no matter what you believe. Don’t let the memory of what your mother used to say to you, or how she treated you, change the way I know you feel about her. Deep down she really loved you, Vincent. She loved you from the bottom of her heart.”

Vince looked out at the road and the thick grove of trees that spanned the property across from Lillian’s. “You know, I’d really like to believe you, Lillian. But so much of the last few memories of my mother is her screaming at me over the phone, telling me I’m the spawn of the Devil, or that I’m going to burn in hell for leaving her and choosing what she called the Left Hand path.” He turned back to her. “Maybe you’ve forgotten about all that happened. When I won that scholarship to UCI. I thought she would be happy for me. She wasn’t. She told me that if I went off to college I would burn in hell.”

Lillian’s features collapsed, as if in shame.

“I went to college and, as you know, the relationship quickly went downhill. She sent me tracts in the mail, she called me on the phone telling me she was organizing a prayer session in the hopes I’d be saved.”

Lillian nodded, closing her eyes. “I remember…”

“It got so that every year at Christmas I dreaded coming home because all she would do was insist I pray with her every day at Reverend Powell’s, for hours straight. You remember?”

Lillian nodded.

“When I started dating Laura, it got worse. By then I was working at Corporate Financial. She saw that as really… being something bad and evil. I’m sorry, but I still don’t see what is so evil about having a career in a financial planning firm. It got so bad that I stopped calling her altogether. I even stopped with the Christmas and birthday cards. All the cards I ever got from her were religious ones. But the final straw was when I broke down and called her after Laura and I got engaged. Know what she told me?”

Lillian shook her head. She looked saddened. “No. Vincent you don’t have to tell me—”