Chapter Twenty-One #2
There’s an edge to her voice. Is she going to admonish me or something? I’m old enough to stay out all night if I want. Besides, it would be unlike her to lecture me. Usually it’s the other way around.
Then I catch her fingers twining through the belt of her robe. Wait a second. She’s not angry. She’s anxious.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Her fingers still. She drops the tie.
“What do you mean?” Mom dabs a ring finger against one of her eye masks, feigning nonchalance.
“Who was that on the phone?”
“No one.” She drops her finger. A pink hue slides into her cheeks.
My brain flits to a memory that’s half-hazy with the smell of corn dogs and pavement warming in the sun. She might be abstaining from love, but she’s certainly giving it some glances, if you know what I mean.
“Hang on,” I say. “Was that Rob?”
“No. No. It wasn’t.”
Her cheeks have deepened to the same shade of red as the array of chili peppers in the basket above the countertop. This is strange, though. I’ve never known her to be secretive about her love life.
She crosses her arms, pulling her robe tighter. “Where were you last night?” she asks over my silence, like she’s challenging me in return.
“With Adrian,” I say because I’m enough of an adult to be transparent.
Mom’s defensiveness dissolves. She claps her hands together in something that can only be described as delight. “Oh? How wonderful.”
“I suppose.”
“What’s the matter?”
I let out a long exhale. I usually try to avoid Mom’s relationship advice.
When I was in college, she always seemed disappointed to hear I wasn’t dating anyone.
When I told her about Maxwell, I expected her to be overjoyed.
But then she started asking irrelevant questions about how my stomach felt when I was around him.
Somehow, I think she might be the only person who could understand my stance on relationships and—possibly—the only one who never will.
“I’m just—” I start. “I’m not sure where this could go.”
Mom lifts an eyebrow. “But you’re open to it? To him? To the possibility?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m only here for the summer, hopefully anyway. And I’m worried about Pan Ams. So, I don’t know how open I am.”
I leave the rest unsaid. That it is a bad idea to get involved with someone whose presence feels like standing next to a damn bonfire.
Mom studies me for another moment, then smiles softly and pats one of the place mats at the table. “Sit.”
I hesitate, but only for a moment. I’m going to see Adrian later today. I don’t want to head back to the boathouse without a plan. Besides, it won’t hurt to hear her out.
So, I let my bag descend to the floor, cross into the kitchen, and sink to a creaky seat in one of Mom’s antique chairs.
She hunts around her cabinets before setting two vintage teacups on the place mat in front of me—they’re white china circled with pink and blue flowers.
She pours hot water into both and then adds her Irish breakfast tea bags.
Serious tea for a serious conversation. The last time she got out this setup, I’d just told her I’d decided to make the incredibly unorthodox choice to give up my scholarship, drop out of college, and move to the training center.
I wasn’t as anxious for that conversation, though.
I already knew Mom wouldn’t have a strong opinion either way—she just wanted to hear me out and give the conversation the weight it deserved.
Unlike with relationships, Mom has never tried to give me much advice about rowing.
I think she mostly trusted me to find my own way.
I’ve always appreciated that and, after my recent conversation with Adrian, I appreciate it even more now.
Mom takes a seat across from me and spoons sugar into her cup. “I know my yoga wasn’t exactly for you, but there is some wisdom from my classes that I’d like to share.”
I take a sip from my steaming mug and try to keep an open mind. Yesterday, I hurled a ball at some milk bottles on the optimistic hope that it might make me row faster. I have no high ground to judge relationship advice dispatched from her yoga classes.
“There’s so much about the yoga practice that appeals to me,” she begins.
“But the theme that resonates with me most—the one that I try to infuse into every class I teach—is about presence. Finding our centers on the mat. Grounding ourselves in the here and now. Focusing on our breath—constant and also always changing.”
She sips thoughtfully. “I’m sure you, of all people, would understand why.”
I tilt my head. “Why?”
“You’ve been with me through my big changes, Kath.
My ups and downs. Triumphs and defeats. I suppose for some you were too young to truly understand what was happening, but you seemed to see so much, even when you were tiny.
It hasn’t always been easy to have you witness all that.
But I hope what you might take from it is a lesson about change.
Life. It’s fleeting. All we have is this moment, right now.
I’m fortunate enough to be in a happy one.
But I can’t know how long that will last. So, I will enjoy every moment I have. ”
A couple of weeks ago, this speech would have sounded a bit ridiculous to me.
Not because it isn’t true that the present is important, but also because life is nothing without goals.
But maybe the mini golf and corn dogs have addled my brain, though, because there is something in there that resonates.
“So,” I say cautiously, “you’re saying—to stay focused on the present with Adrian?”
She nods. “Maybe this summer is all you have. But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.”
There’s something both comforting and oddly rational about this idea. Maybe there is a solution here. Something that will prevent me from getting consumed by Adrian. A way to be with him without losing control of myself in the process.
Adrian and I shouldn’t have a future. Hopefully, I’ll move back to the training center after Pan Ams. He will either stay here or move to Florida for the junior development job.
We’re only together for the summer. Maybe that fact—that we can’t have a future—makes it easier.
We can enjoy each other’s company and then go our separate ways.
Knowing that this will end will make that inevitable end easier.
Knowing this will keep me from losing control.
“Mom,” I say, “I think you’ve just given me some very good advice.”
She leans across the table to pat my arm and press a kiss to my temple. “I’m glad.”