53. Jake
FIFTY-THREE
JAKE
The final part for my robot came in.
I should be happy. Once this project is cleared, all I have to do is finish out this semester and I’ll have my Master’s in Robotics. It’s been years in the making, giving me much greater earning potential than I’d had with just my engineering degree.
But all I can think about as I slide in the final gear is that Darcy wanted to be here for this.
She changed her mind, though.
My professor constantly has country radio on. It’s been a steady stream of songs that remind me of Darcy, but it gets worse. “Strawberry Wine” comes on right when I flip the switch to test my robot, and I have to bite my knuckle to stave off my emotions.
A hand claps my shoulder as the machine detects and picks one of the fake fruits from the tree. “It works!”
I nod, drawing in a breath to try to feel as excited as my professor. “It works.”
“Really great work, Jake,” she says. “Now we’ll just have to test it in the field and we’re all set.”
Testing it in the field means one thing: going home to Virginia.
* * *
I pull into my mom’s driveway just before dark on Saturday. It’s Labor Day weekend and still hot as hell, both when I left Huntington after Little League and here in Floyd.
I knock once on the sage-colored front door and enter, the familiar scent of mulberry potpourri and stale coffee on the burner filling my nose. I bend to pet Reggie, our ancient sheepdog. Well, her ancient sheepdog. I can’t claim to live here anymore.
“Mom!” I call out, and she rounds the corner from the kitchen into the front hall, arms extended.
She looks older. I know these things happen. We age constantly, and when you don’t see someone for a while it adds up. But the crow’s feet next to her eyes are more defined, her hair a little grayer, and she almost seems smaller somehow.
I wrap her up in a tight hug and it hits me that the last person I hugged was Darcy. The space behind my nose stings.
“Welcome home, honey,” she says, cupping the back of my head just like she did when I was little with a skinned knee. Now I’m really fighting that urge to get emotional. Nothing like seeing Mom again to make me want to let out everything that’s hurt me since I saw her last.
Because while I didn’t skin my knee, my heart is all kinds of banged up.
It’s weird being here, especially after having lived here for a while after college graduation. Then, I missed my sisters being here, and my dad.
Now, I miss it all.
“Hey, son,” my stepdad Art says, coming into the hallway.
I know he means son in a colloquial way, and not like I’m his child, but it still makes me want to throw a tantrum.
I let Mom go and she holds me back by my shoulders, examining me.
“Gosh, are you bigger than before?” She squeezes my bicep. “Look at these muscles!”
I put on a weak smile. “A summer of farm work. You know how it goes.” And holding Darcy up while she rode my cock, but that’s not something you tell your mom.
Or anyone besides Darcy. But she’s not talking to me right now.
Art’s at Mom’s side, a hand casually patting down her back as he sticks the other out to shake my hand. “Good to see you.”
“Yeah,” I say, returning his grip. I’ll kill you if you upset my mom.
Mom ushers us into the kitchen to sit around the table, pulling out my favorite cheesecake she made for me. “Glad you came to see us, even if it’s just because you need to test your machine.”
She’s trying to make me feel bad, and it’s working. “Sorry, Mom. Teaching and going to school and . . .” I almost say “breaking up,” “everything take up a lot of time.”
Art lifts the coffee pot, Mom’s ever-present decaf coffee in there. “Want any more, Jenny? Jake?”
He’s usually not this accommodating, and I wonder if my mom had a talking-to with him about being nice to me. “Sure, I’ll take a cup. Black.”
He nods, filling one of my dad’s old camping mugs—the kind he used when we slept like cowboys out in the field. We’d do it at least once a summer, riding out to our farthest field with our few cows and sleeping under the stars. Jamie, Jackie, and I felt like a million bucks getting to do something cool and rugged with Dad.
Well, Jackie and I loved it. Jamie applied bug spray constantly and barely put her butt on the ground for fear a snake would crawl up it.
I always drank the coffee, even though I hated how it tasted at the time. Now the memory smarts. Even if Dad were still around, we wouldn’t be cowboy camping, but because he was taken too soon, it makes every memory sting more.
Mom puts a slice of cheesecake and a fork in front of me, squeezing my hand. “Tired?”
I grimace. “Yeah. I could get my own plate, Mom.”
She gives my shoulders a rub before sitting in her usual chair at the table. “You’re a guest.”
My gut twists, and I can’t stop myself from spitting out, “I’m your son.”
“You’ve got your own life now.”
My brow wrinkles. “This isn’t home?”
Mom’s gaze is sad as she looks over me. “This’ll always be home for you, sweetie. You’re always welcome here.”
Art grumbles where he stands at the counter. Mom turns and glares at him.
“Arty, why don’t you go watch the game? We’ve got to go to bed soon anyway.”
“See you bright and early, Jake,” he says with a light salute before shuffling off to the living room.
I take a bite of Mom’s cheesecake, but I hardly taste it. I wait until I hear the Nationals game turned up loud before I start in.
“Mom, are you okay?”
Mom shakes her head and blinks fast. “Yes? Okay how?”
“Is he nice to you?”
A knowing look passes over her face and she sits back in her chair. “Jake.”
“If he’s not, sell the farm and come live with me. Or I’ll come back here and help you. You don’t have to live with him.”
“That’s very sweet, but Art’s a good man.”
“He’s trying to steal the farm from you!” I object.
Mom’s head lolls back on her neck and she heaves a sigh. “Honey, he does half the work. He’s not stealing anything.”
“But he’s not nice to you,” I argue.
“Jake, you’re not nice to him.”
“Because of how he treats you!”
I’ve seen this face on my mom: trying not to get mad. “I’m about to be very honest with you,” she starts, and my stomach drops again. “I know he’s not your dad. You know that. But when you moved back here, I think you were still grieving your dad and you didn’t really give Art a fair chance.”
My mouth pops open. “What?”
“Art doesn’t hate you. But it made it tense that you two didn’t get along. He and I fought more.”
“Oh, so everything’s my fault?” I ask, shoving back my plate. “Mom, can’t you see that he’s hurting you? He shouldn’t be fighting with you so much.”
“We don’t fight like that now.” Her hand lands over mine. “And I’m not saying it was your fault. I’m saying it was a tough situation. It was hard for you to see me moving on. It was hard to have you back when I’d had four years to process everything in this old house. He was everywhere for me, Jake. Still is. But now it hurts less.”
My throat feels tight and I wish Darcy could be here to see all this. I crave her comfort so much right now. “I miss him.”
She flattens her lips. “I do too. I always will.”
I nod, but I can’t look her in the eye. I feel her gaze nonetheless. A beat of silence passes between us.
She pats my hand. “I thought you’d be happier that you got your robot running.”
My breathing falters and I have to suck a breath into my oxygen-starved lungs. It comes out all shaky and choppy.
“It’s for you,” I admit. “So you wouldn’t need him.”
“Oh, baby,” she says in that voice she used when I was sad as a kid. “You don’t need to take care of me.”
“I do,” I say, choking up. “Dad’s gone.”
“Jake, look at me.” She covers my hand again, and I notice the veins and sunspots starting to take hold. My mom’s turning fifty soon, and still beautiful. But it’s strange to see these more obvious signs that time is passing. “I need you to get out there and live your life. Figure out what you want for you. If you want the farm, I’ll save it for you as best I can. But I need you to fly the coop. Your dad and I wanted you kids to get to do what made you happy.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Whoever ‘everyone’ is is probably right.” Mom’s smile is sad. “You’ve spent your life trying to make everybody else happy. You’re such a natural caretaker. When you didn’t become a doctor, I was shocked you didn’t pick vet.”
I laugh. “I might love animals a little too much. It’s hard for me to see them hurt. I’d never sleep.”
Mom puffs out her bottom lip. “I love your big heart.” She taps the table. “How’s your girlfriend?”
I stare at the spot where the linoleum’s chipped by the wood cabinets, remembering sitting there as a kid with a screwdriver, trying to peel it up and put it back down. “She wants me to figure out what I want. For me.”
Mom snorts. “Common theme. Have you figured it out yet?”
I close my eyes to suppress the moisture there. “I love her. I want her.”
“It sounds like she loves you too, Jake. She knows she can’t figure out what you want for you. She’s taking care of you.”
I let that sink in. Mom’s right. I’ve been feeling like Darcy gave up on me, but she’s looking out for what’s best for me. “She’s the only thing I’m sure I want. Where I work isn’t relevant. I care more that she’s there, you know?”
Mom stands up and hugs me where I sit, snuggling her cheek to the top of my head. “I’m glad you found a good one, honey. Can’t wait to meet her.”
“If she stays with me,” I sulk.
Mom laughs. “You might have a slight bit of your sisters’ dramatic streak. I wasn’t there, but it sounds like she’s just giving you time. I have a feeling it’s all going to work out.”
I need to stop holding back and get all my thoughts out. “She’s probably inheriting her family’s farm, so she can’t move. She’s convinced I won’t be getting the most out of my degree if I stay where I am. I don’t want to leave her, but we also haven’t been a thing for that long. She was supposed to be getting married this month, so I know she’s going through a lot. What we have feels right, but she doesn’t want to see me right now and I graduate in December. That’s not much time. So where does that leave me?”
Mom sits again, crossing her legs and folding her hands on the table like a talk show host or a boss or something. “So stay a little longer after you graduate. Date her. Make sure it’s what you want.”
I shake my head. “She’s got this idea in her head that I need to go elsewhere to find myself, like I’m missing out on some opportunity if I don’t move to a big city and work on a major robotics team. Like she’s not a good enough reason for me to want to stay. But other than her, I don’t know what I want.”
Because if I did robotics for Mom and I achieved my objective, where do I go from here?
Mom studies me. “Prove it to her. Date her.”
“She said no when I asked if we could date. Said her being around would confuse me too much.”
Mom nods, mulling that over. “She’s afraid of getting hurt too. But you need more time with her.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“I think you need to tell her that. It’s fair for you to need more to go on to make a big decision, and it’s fair for her to want you to do what’s best for you.”
I stare at the yellow-checkered plastic tablecloth. “What if she won’t listen to me?”
Mom smirks. “You’ll find a way.”