791. Chapter 791

Her sister’s mother has been dead since her sister was twelve, and Alex figures she should be grateful.

Grateful for the woman who always kept her safe, and fed, and warm, and hugged, who went the extra mile, worked the extra hours, always, to make sure Alex had not only everything she needed, but pretty much everything she wanted.

She should be grateful, for Eliza. Especially in light of having a little sister whose mother was… She should be grateful.

And she was, truly.

But she was also bitter.

Bitter and protective – of herself, for once in her life – because Eliza was amazing. And she also told Alex for her entire adolescent life that she wasn’t good enough, that she wasn’t kind enough, that she wasn’t working hard enough, that she wasn’t protective enough, that she wasn’t, generally, enough.

She knew she hadn’t done it on purpose. She knew Eliza expected extraordinary things from her because she loved her.

But that didn’t mean she always loved Alex well. It didn’t mean her particular brand of love hadn’t caused Alex years of damage along the way.

And Eliza had gotten better – another reason Alex felt like she should be grateful – since their big blow out about Kara’s becoming Supergirl a few Thanksgivings ago. Since Alex put words to what she’d felt for years and Eliza had come face-to-face with the fact that she’d done terrible things and called them love.

She’d gotten better about it, about being a better mother to Alex, and she knew that wasn’t always the case.

Alex was engaged to Maggie Sawyer, for crying out loud, so she knew to be grateful that her mom at least, genuinely, tried to hear her, to love her better than she had before.

But she was still staring at a text that Eliza had sent, something about Alex not realizing sooner that Kara could be harmed by that new kind of radiation they were studying, and it was all flooding back through Alex’s blood.

Like she was a teenager again and Eliza was reminding her to always put Kara first, because Kara’s problems were worlds bigger, literally, so Alex’s problems, her emotions, her pains, were insignificant. Less than. Just like the rest of her.

“Your mom?” Maggie plopped down on the bed to ask, because Alex might be trying to hide it, but she’d be damned if she couldn’t read that woman’s face a mile away.

“Sorry, yeah, but it’s fine. It’s fine, she’s just being… Mom. It’s fine.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “You don’t have to pretend your mom doesn’t hurt you just because mine doesn’t talk to me. Mother’s Day can suck for you too, Danvers. Or it can kind of suck, and be sweet at other moments, or be that weird combination of both at the same time. Or whatever.”

Alex shook her head resolutely. “No. Your mom –”

“It’s not a competition, Danvers.”

“Maggie –”

“Alex. You are allowed. To be upset.”

“I know. But can we… before I take up all this space with my weird my-mom-loves-me-so-much-but-also-tends-toward-emotional-abuse, do you wanna talk? About this weekend?”

Maggie shrugged. “Nothing to say, really. I’m used to it by now, I guess.” She stared into the distance for a moment, elbows on her knees, and Alex draped an arm around her shoulder. She shifted so their bodies were flush together. Both of them sighed into the closeness, and Maggie kept talking.

“The last Mother’s Day before that Valentine’s Day – man, corporate holidays kinda hate my guts, don’t they? – the last Mother’s Day I had, living with my mom? When she was still talking to me? I got up and made her this massive breakfast, like… like every recipe she’d ever taught me, I found a way to make it work. My dad woke up and found me covered in flour and pattering around the kitchen in my bare feet, and he smiled at me like… like I was gonna make him so proud, one day. And when my mom woke up, it made her cry. She told me she could never have asked for a better daughter. And I told her I couldn’t have asked for a better mom.”

Maggie’s voice cracked and Alex kissed her temple, smoothing her hair out of her face and playing with it like she tended to always do. Maggie smiled faintly at the gesture and shook her head.

“I knew, then, already. That I was a lesbian. And I knew I was keeping it from her. But just then, just for that moment, that day, I thought it wouldn’t matter to them. That they’d figure out a way to still love me. Especially my mom. Because even if I was sleeping with girls, I’d still be home on Mother’s Day, getting up early to make her breakfast. I thought, just that day, that she’d know that, and love me anyway.”

Tears dripped out of Alex’s eyes before they left Maggie’s, and they leaned their foreheads onto each other, sideways, Maggie’s hands now holding Alex’s free one in her lap.

“Sorry. It… your mom texted you. Do you wanna work out what to say to her? Because you’re allowed to stand up for yourself, Alex.”

“No apologies. I just wish I’d known you then. I would’ve stood up for you.”

Maggie let her gaze sink into Alex’s. She bit her lip and grimaced, touching Alex’s face, her hair.

“And now you get to stand up for you. So. Let’s figure out how to text your mom back. Yeah?”

“Maggie?”

“Danvers.”

“I love you. Unconditionally.”

“Forever?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”