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Ch. 12: Mother-Daughter Talks

Buffy closed her eyes and rubbed her arms, attempting to dispel the chills that were part of her life, the worries that were scrambling up and down her body. The past two months had given her new wrinkles, sleepless nights, and unshed tears. She had to stay strong, to be the one who comforted Dawn in her tears--and there was no one to comfort her.

And her mother was dying. Dying! The word bounced off the walls of her mind, reverberating and leaving residual pain with each crash. Her eyes were dry, sucked hollows from the stifled crying and worried rubbing and insomnia that had become familiar to her. She waited patiently for the doctor to finish his examination before spending her daily visit over tea and cookies.

Minutes crept past, and eventually the doctor with his entourage of interns and nurses left the room. Buffy slowly gathered her strength and entered the room.

"Hey, mom. Sleep well?" Buffy asked nonchalantly as she gave her mom a big smile.

"Buffy. I've been thinking that it's time we talked." Joyce smiled wanly as she beckoned her closer.

"What do you mean?" Buffy responded, biting her lip in nervousness.

"We never really resolved our issues--please, don't interrupt me." Joyce lifted her hand in protest when she saw Buffy begin to voice her thoughts. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, among many other things, but we need to. I need to. Hear me out."

Buffy sat on the chair near her mother's bed and looked down. She remembered first coming back, her thoughts overwhelmed with irrepressible anger at her mom's actions with Spike battling feelings of guilt for not being there when she had taken her first bad spell mixed in with frustration for her own weird relationship and continuing attraction to Spike and topped off with her denial of the possibility that her mother might, indeed, die. She wanted to be the comforting daughter who was supportive and loving, but she couldn't ignore the resentment she still felt towards her mother; such conflicting feelings had been suppressed when, upon arriving at the hospital, Joyce hadn't recognized her own daughter. She'd had to avoid the whole incident and corresponding emotions when she and Dawn had had to deal with the much more serious issue of cancer and its fast spread through her mother's body.

And now, with her mom being much more sound in mind, those jumbled emotions returned full-force, much to Buffy's dismay. She began fiddling with the zipper on her jacket.

"Buffy, the last time we had a real talk, one where we were honest and upfront with each other, was right before you took off to New York. Now, you're an adult and have the prerogative to go where you want and when, but we never finished our conversation. And I want to do that now."

"Mom, it's nothing. Really, in comparison to what--"

"No, Buffy," Joyce interrupted. "Just because this, this disease is now in me doesn’t mean that everything else is gone. It's not that simple." She sighed and then looked out of the tiny window of the hospital. "You need--deserve--to know what happened. Not details or anything, but just why. For the record, I didn't cheat on your father. The divorce was simply being finalized, and your father had already moved in with his new woman--I don't even remember her name."

Cringing at the thought of her father's many women, Buffy let out a bitter laugh. She waited for her mother to continue.

"What happened with William was probably not the smartest thing I have ever done--I know that." Joyce sighed, shaking her head slightly. William and I were both in need of some comfort, believe it or not, and it just ended up being that kind of comfort. It only happened once, and though I regret the effect it has had on you, I don't regret that I did it. I needed it, needed some kind of affirmation of who I was, my attractiveness as a woman--and I think he needed it, too, as much as you may not want to hear it."

Reaching out to grip Buffy's arm, Joyce forced her daughter to look at her directly.

"Buffy, I'm human, with faults and insecurities and hopes and fears. All of those things got the best of me that day, and then I moved on, continued with my life--and I'm sure William did, too. I wasn't out to seduce him, but I wasn't trying to stop it, either. Why am I telling you this? Because, to be quite frank, I feel terrible that my indiscretion has left you feeling like you can't pursue him. And this is not some deathbed request or anything--except that I want you to be happy. I understand if you can't get over it or are completely disgusted by the idea, but I just hope that you understand how minor it was, and hopefully how minor it is, in the grand scheme of things. I love you, and I want you to be happy. It pains me to think that I might be hindering that, and so I just wanted to explain it to you. Be mad--don't think I'm so fragile that I can't handle it. I may be frail in body, but I still have that Summers feistiness that seems to be so thriving in you." She tried to smile a little. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I really am. Sometimes we don't realize the consequences that our choices make. But I am sorry." She looked into Buffy's eyes to see her reaction. She closed her mouth, signaling that she was done.

The whole time her mom was speaking, Buffy crossed her hands over her chest and tried to figure out how she wanted to react. Her initial choice was to be angry, to have all those feelings come back and crash over her, lash out at her mom and make her feel triumphant. But as her mom continued to talk, the anger started to leak out of her, making her feel like a deflated balloon.

"You know, if you had asked me a month ago, I would have been really pissed. I would have ranted and raved and accused and cursed." She chuckled softly, as if trying to disperse the tension. "But now? I don't know. Maybe it's because I haven't seen him in over a month. Maybe it's because, in light of things, it's not really that important. Maybe I just no longer think it's that important. Maybe I just don't have the energy to be angry anymore. I don't really know how I feel."

"Buffy, just because I'm sick doesn't mean you have to stop living. You don't have to come see me every day. I know your job in New York begins in two weeks, and I fully expect you to be on a plane to New York to start on time."

"Mom, there's no way I can. I've already asked for a delay in starting, and--"

"Buffy Anne Summers, you better call your boss back and tell him that you're coming in that Monday as planned," she interrupted. "I'm serious. I do not want you changing your life because of me. That means starting on time AND not letting my past get in the way of your possible future with William--not William, Spike. Don't make me feel guilty for getting in the way of your plans."

"Mom, you're not getting in the way of my plans! But I'm not going to travel across the country for work when I can get another job here and be closer in case--" Buffy stopped herself. She had been fairly optimistic about her mother's illness for the first few weeks, but the doctors had met with her last Friday, and the prognosis didn't look good.

"Buffy, that's the other thing I wanted to talk about." She took her daughter's hand carefully.

"Mom, please. I--" Buffy's eyes slowly teared up as she tried to ignore the possibility of her mom's death.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but we have to. Buffy, if I'm going to die, I need to know that everything is settled. I don't want to have you all confused about what to do--I don't want you to have to deal with that on top of everything else." She turned to her nightstand and picked up a packet of papers. "Buffy, this is my will. I just met with my lawyer to finalize changes and make sure everything was in order. Dawn will have to end up with Hank in LA, but only till she finishes school. Then she can go to college. Once she turns 18 she'll have full control of her finances and won't need to stay with Hank unless she wants to. My gallery will be turned over to you in name, but I've talked to a potential buyer this week because it might be easier just to sell if it comes down to it. The house, all my belongings, they'll all go to you and Dawn. I want--"

Suddenly, finally, her calm and composed demeanor broke down, and Buffy was in her arms. They both held each other as Joyce sobbed, her frail body shuddering as she wept for her own diminishing life. Buffy tightly embraced her, her own bawls adding to the mix. They tried to give each other strength and provide an outlet for the barrage of emotions falling in the tears.

The waves of sorrow finally receded, and Joyce pulled away, reaching for tissues.

"Oh, God, aren't I a mess," she said, trying halfheartedly to laugh away her pain.

"I still think you're the prettiest one here," Buffy reassured sincerely, smiling through her tears.

"I love you, Buffy. My life may not have had lots of wealth and fame, but I look at you, at Dawn, and I know I'm leaving behind something wonderful." She reached out to caress her daughter's cheek. "Take care of her for me, will you?"

Buffy's eyes began to well again, and she could only clasp her mother's weak hand in assurance.

"Now, enough of this. Tell me all about things that have absolutely no consequence on my life. Like, I heard that Barbie and Ken broke up? What is the world coming to?"

Buffy laughed, her cheeks tight with salty tears, and they temporarily lost themselves in the world of plastic dolls with movable parts.

***

She died quietly in the night. True to her wishes, Joyce had organized everything so completely that Buffy had very little problem with setting up the funeral or dealing with the paperwork for her will. Buffy and Dawn had spent the night of the funeral together, huddling in her mom's large bed, wishing the warmth of the comforters were their mother's arms. Their father had helped them the best he could, but though he did all that was expected of him, his words of sympathy were belied by his quick departure and the uncomfortable ease with which he handled everything. Dawn was unhappy about her move to her father's house, but there was nothing she could do about it. The gallery was sold, the clothes were given to charity, the house was placed on the market, and Buffy packed everything else to be held in storage until other arrangements were made. All Joyce's plans were completed so smoothly that, too soon, Buffy found herself on a plane, wondering what had just happened.





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