In the Distance There Is Light by Harper Bliss Read Free Book Online Page A

their children to a certain degree. Mine certainly did.”
    “I don’t really want to talk about this. I don’t have the energy for it.”
    She puts her hand on my arm. “Ian and I were very close, Sophie. He told me things. I know more than you might think.”
    I widen my eyes. “What did he tell you?”
    The bartender brings over the next round. If we keep knocking them back like this, we’ll be crawling out of this bar on hands and knees.
    “When I asked if I was ever going to meet your parents, he told me it wasn’t that simple. That you had a very complicated relationship with them and didn’t see them very often. And that there was a big chance I might never get to meet them. Admittedly, it was a bit daunting to see them for the first time at Ian’s funeral, though it’s all a bit of a blur.”
    “I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. I could always think of a very good reason not to.”
    “Why? They raised a beautiful daughter?”
    I hold up my hand. “Please, Dolores, don’t say it. I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t have that conversation right now. I really can’t.” I remember how, after a visit to Evanston where my parents live, once we were back in the car, Ian had been so appalled by my mother’s self-involved behavior that he’d just said, “Fuck them, Soph. Just fuck them.” And how liberating that had felt.
    Who’s going to say that to me now?
    Dolores’ hand is still on my arm and I don’t want her to remove it.
    She nods. “Okay. But please know that you can talk to me about anything you want.”
    “You are so kind, Dolores. So generous with your time and affection. I really appreciate that.” After three whiskeys and touching on my mommy issues just a tad, Dolores appears to me as the perfect mother, the one I always wanted.
    “My heart is broken too. I’m grateful to have you in my life right now.” With that, she takes a big gulp of whiskey, makes a face while it goes down, and orders another.

Chapter Eleven

    Although the entire drive to Evanston is depressing, as always, I can’t help the nostalgia rushing over me. It harks back to a time before I knew better, when life was still filled with play and innocence. Back then, I easily shrugged off as normal my mother’s minimal affection and maximum narcissism.  
    Today is Mother’s Day and even though I could have easily cited my grief as a valid reason not to show up at my parents’ house for the occasion, I didn’t. Without Ian around to say “Fuck them”, the guilt for ignoring them grew too big. Though I know very well this is just for show. We’ll pretend to be a family that gets along for as long as we can, until the tension rises too high and I’ll leave. I have the best excuse these days.
    I bought my mom a bunch of flowers and when I give them to her she feels the need to give me a long hug—as though a hug from her will make it all better. All it does is make me cringe.
    My brother and his wife are here as well with their two young children. Emma is five and Tilda three. The girls are shouting something at each other that I can’t make out.
    This visit, of course, everything is different, because Ian is dead, and my mother can’t direct the spotlight solely unto herself. She has to compete with me for attention and sympathy, though my family’s sympathy is the last thing I want.
    On my way over here, I made one promise to myself and to Ian’s ghost: that I would never give them the satisfaction of needing them. Dolores is my family now. And Jeremy. Alex and her husband Bart, and our other friends. My small circle in Chicago.
    While I love my brother—we were always in this together after all—I feel estranged from him, too. Our lives are so different, even though we only live half an hour’s drive from one another. But he lives in the same suburb as my parents, and it makes for a world of difference. I also never understood why he is so keen on having my parents so involved in Tilda