Chapter 17. #3
“You step aside for everyone else. You fade into the back. You slouch.” She comes up a step, perching an elbow up on the banister of the stairs. “But lately … particularly with Austin … you … don’t.”
I sigh. “Mom, if you have a point, can you please arrive at it? It’s late, and I just came down to get some water, and—”
“I see the way you look at him.”
My eyes are on the wall. I can’t look at her. “Okay,” I mumble.
“And I see the way he looks at you. The way he treats you. He and you just sort of … happened, you said? I kept thinking of that. The way you worded it.” She hangs her head suddenly. “Please put me out of my misery. I’ve been sitting on this for years now. Your father and I both.”
Then suddenly I’m looking at her.
Right at her.
“Years??” I blurt out.
“Fine. It didn’t start with Austin. It started with Jimmy.”
Now she’s lost me. “Jimmy? As in Strong? Jimmy Strong??”
“It was just something I picked up on way back when. His big dance with Bobby on that stage. I was a mess of tears after that sweet, adorable dance … and then I look over at you, and I see this light in your eyes. You were lit up like a chandelier.”
“Mom, I was, like, sixteen …”
“And then it happened again at Toby’s school play …”
“Uh, what?”
“The play your friend Toby was in? Toby and Vann as lovers? I went with some of the gals, Cassie, Nadine, a couple others, and I noticed you were sitting with your friends nearby, and I saw a look in your eyes—”
“Why are you always lookin’ at the looks in my eyes??”
“Because they tell a different story than your face. And then you heard Toby was moving away, and it made you sad for a whole week, and who knows why, because I didn’t think you two were all that close after you graduated.
In fact, you’ve not been all that close with a lot of your friends lately. Noticed that, too.”
“Stop noticing so much,” I mumble, heart racing.
“And then the pageant last year,” she goes on, “when I swear I saw Cole and you exchange this look—a couple looks, actually—and for half a heartbeat, I thought you two were up to something. But maybe you just had an understanding? He and you and Noah all went to school together, anyhow, just a year off. It isn’t crazy for me to put all these puzzle pieces together, is it? ”
“All of this is … is crazy,” I sputter right back to her, at a loss, nearly in laughter. “I don’t know what you—”
“And I know I’m sort of just letting it all out right now, but …” She meets my eyes. For some reason, I’m already looking back, as if bracing for it. Her voice grows calm again. “But I’m just saying … I see the way you look at him.”
My mouth is so dry—and in a way I doubt chugging both these water bottles will help.
Then she lifts her chin, looking for a moment like royalty in a blue queenly robe, and she repeats in a more intentional tone, “I see the way you look at him … and I’m happy for you.”
I swallow hard.
Unsure what to say.
How to deflect this. If I should deflect this. Isn’t this exactly what I wanted? Why do I feel like a ten-armed alien visiting from some weirdo planet my dad and Austin likely talked about just a handful of hours ago over a telescope?
I can barely move. I feel like I’m watching this scene in my life unfolding through someone else’s eyes.
“Anyway,” she softly says, “I think I’ve mortified you enough for a night. I … should let you get back to Austin.” Her eyes drop to the bottles of water in my grip. “He’s probably thirsty.” Then she turns and heads back to the study, leaving me on the stairs.
After a minute of just standing here doing nothing at all but breathing, I end up not returning to my room.
I follow her to the archway of the study. “He’s my boyfriend.”
She was picking up a couple of books. Both of them fall right out of her hands as she spins around, wide-eyed.
“I should’ve told you, Mom. Years ago. I wanted to.
But I was also scared, because, like, it was always my destiny to marry a girl, have a hundred kids, and fill this big empty house for you and Dad.
I kept talking myself out of it. Or just giving in to fear.
I should’ve told you. You should’ve been in on this the whole time. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? No, stop that.” She stumbles over the books she just dropped as she hurries across the study right up to me.
“You don’t owe me an apology. I owe you one.
Why didn’t I speak up?? I just didn’t want to presume.
But I did,” she then admits, “only a teeny bit. I knew I should’ve gone to one of Nadine’s PFLAG things.
Or is it Cassie running them now?” She dismisses the thought and takes hold of my arms, nearly causing me to drop the bottles, dripping with condensation.
“Your dad and I love you no matter what. And we are both obsessed with your boyfriend. I promise you, TJ, from this point on, your dad and I will make your happiness a priority. Alright? This is your home!” she suddenly shouts.
“You shouldn’t have to hide a single thing about yourself in your own dang home! No more sneaking around, got it?”
I’m out of words and just throw my arms around my mom.
She hugs me back.
The bottles of water continue to drip all over the floor.
No one cares.
Honestly, I always imagined us crying more when we finally had this conversation. But maybe some part of me always knew deep down she was more aware than she ever let on—just like a part of her always knew about me.
I can’t quite describe it, other than some cockeyed piece of my heart just settled into place where it belongs.
All it needed was a little nudge.
“And I can adjust my dream,” she says, still hugging me.
“You don’t have to fill this house with grandbabies to make me happy.
And you don’t have to marry a girl who sings and plays guitar.
I’ll settle for the far superior prize of a handsome, smart, and loving young man like Austin, who takes such good care of you. ”
I fight a smile over her shoulder.
Oh, just wait until I tell her.