Chapter 21 #2
“Theresa will be coming over tonight to keep you company while I’m at the football game with Andi,” I remind her as we make our way down the street, which is shaded by mature oaks lining the sidewalks.
It’s an old street, filled with old homes on large lots that are in high demand with upper-middle-class professionals due to its proximity to downtown.
We moved into this house when I was in high school.
Back then, the neighborhood was sketchy.
Undesirable. But it was a big deal, because it was the first place we ever lived in that wasn’t an apartment.
Emma used to call it a mansion, despite it being a small two-bedroom bungalow.
Back then, it was by far the most run-down one on the block.
But Mom’s done a lot of work on it since then, because it looks as well-kept as the rest.
Mom nods, seemingly remembering our conversation this morning at breakfast. I always spell things out now, because as the day wears on, her memory worsens. “Are you two football fans?”
“Not really.” When she swings me a curious look, I add, “But her boss gave us the tickets for free.”
“Is this your first formal date?”
I shrug. “Technically. We had lunch together the other day at work, if that counts.”
“Do you want some advice?” she asks. Her question shocks me, because she’s never been the kind of mom who doles out advice. Before I get the chance to say yes or no, she leans in. “When you go out to eat, sit on the same side of the table.”
I flash her a puzzled look. “On the same side? Why?”
“Sitting across the table is so…formal. Like a business meeting. Whereas sitting on the same side is romantic,” she tells me, a glint in her eye. “You can cuddle, touch, read the menu together, share each other’s food, whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears.”
I can’t help but smile. “I never knew you were such a romantic.”
“Me serial dating your entire childhood wasn’t your first clue?” she replies, a wry grin spreading across her face. It occurs to me that she’s poking fun at herself.
A laugh bursts out of me. “You did have a lot of boyfriends. I wouldn’t consider any of them romantic, from what I remember.” And that’s putting it nicely.
She nods in hearty agreement. “Remember Vic?”
“The one with the tribal tattoos?” I confirm. Vic wasn’t terrible, compared to the rest. And by that, I mean he never yelled or hit her (that I know of). He was a quiet guy, uninterested in Emma and me. But he seemed to hold down a job at a mechanic shop down the street, which was a plus.
“That’s the one. I don’t think I ever told you, but he proposed. With a ring from Walmart.”
I snort. “Did he tell you it was from Walmart?”
“He didn’t have to. He got down on one knee right there in the Walmart jewelry aisle before he even paid for it.
” She starts full-on belly-laughing in the middle of the sidewalk.
It’s contagious, to the point where I’m laughing with her.
I’ve noticed she enjoys talking about the past, even if it’s not entirely rosy.
Maybe because those older, core memories are the clearest, compared to recent memories.
“And what did you say?”
“I said yes, of course. We broke up the next week. Anyway, all that to say, Vic was the one who taught me about sitting on the same side of the table. I’ve done it with every boyfriend since.”
I consider that, swinging her a curious glance. “You haven’t dated in a while, have you?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’ve only had one relationship since I got sober.”
“Why is that?”
“In my treatment program, my therapist talked to me about how I was using men as a way to fill the void.”
“Void?”
“The one your grandfather left. I was looking for love to replace my father’s love, and my mother’s.
” I don’t know much about my grandparents, aside from the fact that he left early on in her childhood.
I’ve always known that as a fact, but for the first time, it occurs to me that she didn’t have things easy growing up, either.
How could she be expected to be a good parent when she didn’t have that herself?
“In treatment, I realized the only way to fill that void is by finally loving myself. By taking care of myself and being pickier about who I date.”
“Wow. That’s really great, Mom,” I say, though it sounds a little weak coming out of my mouth. I hadn’t realized the extent of her therapy or that she’d worked that deeply on herself. “You deserve to be pickier.”
“Turns out, when you’re sober, men are terrible.”
I laugh, despite the pang of sadness at the fact that she never found anyone to settle down with. “You deserve someone good,” I tell her, and I mean that.
She smiles. “You think? By the time you get to my age, all these men want are wives to cook and clean for them while they’re out playing golf all day.”
“Maybe you’ll meet someone at Lakeside,” I say, finally broaching the topic.
“That would be nice. Though I hear dating can get competitive in these places. Honestly, I’m just happy to be going there instead of that other place. There’s a beautiful waterfront trail I can take my morning walks on. They have so many activities, too. I think I’ll be just fine on my own.”
“Then why are you so adamant about me settling down?”
She stops walking and appraises me. “You and I are very different. I spent my whole life chasing after love, after terrible men, desperate for their approval, trying to be what they wanted. But you’ve spent your whole life running from love.”
Her words strike me hard in the chest. My first instinct is to deny it, because that’s what I do when it comes to anything she says about me. I’ve always deduced that she doesn’t know me. But maybe she knows me more than I thought.
We walk the rest of the block in a comfortable silence. As we pass by a field of wildflowers, I spot a group of daisies and stop to gather some, handing a bunch to Mom. Her eyes light up.
“You used to pick me daisies when you were a little boy,” she says, a massive smile splitting her face. “Remember that day we spent at Dow’s Lake?”
I nod, vaguely remembering it. I think I was about seven.
I’d faked sick that day because Mom was home and I wanted to spend extra time together, just me and her.
She took me to the park and we lay out in the grass on a giant picnic blanket.
She’d brought snacks, and we looked at shapes in the clouds.
It was a good day. A really good day.
Maybe not all days with her were as bad as I thought.