Hangover by Sally

The morning after the day that had changed everything, and forever

I awoke in a panic

My sheets cold, damp with sweat.

Wondering if it had all been a dream.

I’d been dreaming of what had been, the day before, but what if that too had been a dream?

Was it even real? Was she? Was I?

I grabbed my phone, making silent deals with God, like a teenager, please… 

I’ll be good, I promise— just let it be real.

I scrolled and sighed relief.

Text messages. 

Photos.

They do exist. She did exist. I exist.

I’d found her.

But too late.

My first mother and the One She Kept—my half brother young enough to be my son, but he isn’t—he’s my brother. My blood. My toothy smile. Or hers. We are both hers, but not really. I came first but he got to stay. 

My mother’s best friend—for a lifetime and beyond, still pining for her lost partner in crime, waiting for me too. She too had known about me. She had, she said, “so many stories” for me.

So many.

And I’d never had any.

Yes, please tell me all the stories. Every word. I will hang on every single word. Please give me all the words. Please. 

And photos, mother and son, mother and bestie, never mother and me. It could never be mother and me, would never be mother and me, but I could see

What I missed.

What was stolen from me.

The me I never got to be.

No matter how much I ended up with 

I lost so much. 

Everything. 

Gone forever.

And she searched.

But I didn’t until it was too late.

Because I’d already lost too much to ever believe she wanted to find me. I’d lost too much to believe I was worth finding. I’d lost too much and thrown the rest away. I had nothing. I couldn’t just show up with nothing. I was so ashamed. So very ashamed of the mess I’d made of my life.

And isn’t it funny they were all right there—two blocks away—the damndest thing.

Two blocks. 

If only we’d looked we were right in front of each other, looking so much like each other we couldn’t have been another. We would have known instantly. Wouldn’t we?

If only. 

So close.

As if we were still somehow tethered. As if our parallel universes were fighting to converge. As if we were meant to be.

As if

But would never be. 

The morning after the day that changed everything forever more, I laid in bed, choking on regret and anger. I am so very sorry and I am so very angry and I just want to find a way back in time to find her—the one that went away. And to let the other one in—the one that kept me that I only, always, pushed away. 

The morning after the day that made me laugh and cry and realize everything had been a lie or at least some terrible misunderstanding.

I mourned the mother I would never know, 

And the mother I never let know me

Both gone forever.

Two lost mothers.

One lost daughter.

Still here 

Still alone.