Free At the Water's Edge by Harper Bliss Page B

formulate that question doesn’t weigh up to the instant flash of anger that rises through me. Because I didn’t come here to absolve anyone of guilt.
    “No, Mom.” My tone is sharp. “We all make our own choices and no one else is responsible for them except ourselves.”
    “I don’t sleep anymore. Not even with a double dose of Ambien. I lie awake at night, twisting and turning. Thank goodness your father and I have been sleeping in separate bedrooms for years—although I can still hear him snore through the wall, especially on Thursdays and Fridays, after he’s been to The Attic…”
    A brand new silence descends on us after her short ramble. I want to say I’m sorry—because I’m infinitely sorry for what I did—but not like this. Not after she’s just slipped on her coat of endless suffering and victimhood again.
    “Oh hello, Mrs. Goodman.” Kay steps into my field of vision, back in shorts and a t-shirt, and I could not be happier to hear her voice. Because, as much as I need to have a conversation with my mother, I don’t want to have it now. Kay’s sudden appearance is like a lifeguard’s just as I’m about to drown. “How are you?”
    “Kay,” is all Mom says, and I can almost see the cogs in her brain turning. Are they doing it? This bisexual woman and my daughter?
    “Care to join us?” I’m quick to ask, although it’s hardly fair on Kay to invite her into our awkward non-chat. A glance passes between us, and in that instant, I know Kay will save me.
    “Sure, if I’m not interrupting.” She climbs the two stairs. “Good to see you, Mrs. Goodman. It’s been a while.”
    Mom scoots her chair back a bit, so Kay can drag a third one closer and huddle around the table with us.
    “Let me get you a mug. Or would you like something stronger?” I shoot up out of my chair.
    “Coffee’s fine,” Kay says, easing into her seat, her face relaxed.
    Despite Kay’s calming presence, I need to take a deep breath while I grab the extra mug. Even a few minutes away from the stifling atmosphere that always hangs between my mother and me feels like a huge relief.
    When I return, I see the relief on my mother’s face because of Kay showing up as well. We share DNA, are cut from the same cloth, and she’s probably just as grateful that our conversation was interrupted. And she got the answer she came here to get, anyway.
    Mom and Kay chit-chat about the weather, the beauty of West Waters, and Uncle Pete, while I observe them silently. Every time my mother speaks, I hear my own voice—and, to my own dismay, it makes me cringe a little. Because, as much as I don’t want to be like her, like a woman I’ve grown to pity more than respect, I am her daughter, and nothing has ever been more set in stone than that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    “I’ve seen her change too,” Kay says, a few hours after Mom has left and we’ve moved our conversation to the lodge. “Over the years.”
    “Yeah, playing the victim doesn’t really suit anyone.” I bite down hard on the inside of my bottom lip, trying to fend off the wave of emotion that is coming loose again. “I used to really look up to her, while Nina was always more of a Daddy’s girl. I guess, when it came out, she was at that delicate age where disappointment turns into destructive rage. One she, obviously, still hasn’t recovered from.”
    I spot the look of puzzlement in Kay’s eyes, but she doesn’t probe.
    “Dad had a mistress. A full-blown affair with someone from work. It lasted a year and, as Mom likes to remind us, if she hadn’t found out, it might have gone on forever.”
    Kay’s eyebrows shoot up. “John? Are you kidding me?”
    “I know. You’d never have pegged him for the sort just by looking at him. A quiet, demure, hard-working man who never wished harm on anyone. Although it put the hours he spent at work into perspective, of course.” I can grin at it now. I’ve spent years analyzing the possible motivations for my Dad to