41. Chapter 41
41
S ince I’m in New Orleans picking up the keys to mine and Libby’s new apartment, I decide to check in on a few more things. One being my mother. With everything going on, I haven’t been able to make it back to see her since she made me spaghetti and told me to bring Libby home.
As I pull up the drive, my childhood comes swarming back in like it always does. Playing catch with my dad in the front yard. Playing in the hose with Savannah in the summer. Riding our bikes up and down the street. Mom calling for us to come inside every night to get ready for dinner.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to those times. To have both of my parents healthy, happy, alive. I don’t want to think that I took it for granted, but as a kid, you don’t know just how good you have it. There’s no understanding of the outside world. But knowing what I know now about Libby’s childhood, I have a newfound gratitude for the life my parents gave me.
I take the steps two at a time and walk inside. “Mom, it’s me,” I call out, but there’s no answer. My heart rate kicks up a notch as I make my way around the house, finding each room empty.
She has to be here. The door is unlocked, and she always locks it when she leaves. Maybe I should have called before stopping by. She could be at a neighbor’s house, I suppose, but normally they come here to visit with her since her energy is so zapped lately.
Just as I’m about to go check next door, I catch a glimpse of something in the backyard. My mom is sitting in a lounge chair, still dressed in her pajamas and with a wide-brimmed hat. I take a minute just to watch her. It’s not often you get to watch your mom just be .
She’s just sitting there, watching the birds and trees, a soft smile on her lips. I suddenly feel like I’m intruding. Like I shouldn’t be here, watching such an intimate moment. What it must be like, knowing that your end is so near, and soaking up every day things have been here all along.
Deciding I don’t need to be spying on her anymore, I open the back door and head out to the backyard.
“Hey, mom,” I call while coming up behind her.
“Oh!” She jumps in her seat and turns to look at me. “You can’t scare me like that. No need to shorten my life even more.” She's become increasingly sadistic.
“That isn’t the least bit funny.” I say with a scratchy throat.
“Hush.” She swats the air in my direction. “Let an old woman have a little fun.” But she isn’t old. Having me at twenty-three means her fiftieth birthday is right around the corner. She hasn’t even lived half a life yet.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” my mom asks. Usually, we have plans in place beforehand. It’s rare that I just drop in unannounced. But there’s a lot that I need to fill her in on. And with the time crunch, it really can’t wait.
“Do you remember me telling you about Libby the last time I was here?” My mom closes her eyes and smiles, just like she did the first time I brought her up.
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well…” Maybe this isn’t the right way to do this. Libby should be here. Hell, she should have met Libby before ever bringing up marriage.
“Out with it, Colt.”
“We’re married.” I ease the words out of my mouth, waiting for the backlash to ensue.
My mom’s smile spreads a little further, but her eyes stay closed. “Good.”
“Good?” How the hell is finding out your son married a girl he hasn’t known very long and you’ve never met good ?
“Yes, Colt, it’s good.” The woman's face never flinches.
“I’m sorry.” I lean in closer to her. “What do you mean, it’s good?”
She finally opens her eyes and looks at me. “Well, is it bad?”
“No.” It was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. Even if it’s not a legal, binding marriage. The sentiment behind it was all the same for me.
“Then it’s good,” she says with a shrugged shoulder.
“You don’t have any questions? You’re not mad?”
“What’s there to be mad about?” She reaches over and places her hand on top of mine. “I know my son. And I trust you to make good decisions. If you decided to marry this Libby, then I know it’s a good decision too.”
Bile creeps up my throat. I don’t like lying to my mom. Especially when she’s being this supportive over a facade.
“I do expect you to bring her over next time, though. I’m not getting any younger.”
I give her hand a squeeze. “I can do that.”