Chapter 43
Nolan
Unfortunately, packing is proving difficult.
Mom keeps forgetting about the move and is becoming increasingly agitated about all her belongings being moved.
This afternoon, she got upset with me when she came into the living room to find her furniture gone.
She’d forgotten she gave us permission to donate it.
When I reminded her about the move, she became irate.
Honestly, it was really hard to watch. Emma had to come and try to smooth things over.
“We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?” I ask Em. We’re in the backyard, watching Mom putter away weeding the garden while singing. One of the only activities she wants to do.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, but I know it is. For her and for us.” She swings me a questioning glance.
“What if she hates it? What if she thinks we abandoned her?” It’s my biggest fear, along with her forgetting who we are.
Em is quiet for a moment. “You’re really worried about her,” she finally says.
“I always worry, Em. She’s our mom,” I reply, probably more defensively than I intended.
“No. I know you’ve always cared on some level—”
“I…didn’t expect to care this much,” I admit.
“I’ve been so angry with her for so long, ever since I was a kid.
All I felt was this deep-seated resentment whenever I thought about her, whenever I saw her.
I never thought there would be a time I could look at her and not feel that way.
Because feeling the opposite, feeling hope, always meant disappointment.
And I hate that it feels like she’s leaving us all over again. ”
Em sniffs, rubbing her nose with her sleeve. “I know. It’s fucking cruel, is what it is. But it always helps me to remember that, this time, it’s not her choice.”
“I know. I don’t know why that makes it worse.”
“In some ways, it is. But for me, it’s nice to finally know it’s not us, you know? I spent so much of my childhood wondering if there was something wrong with me, wondering why we kept getting passed around.” We sit with that for a few beats.
I squeeze her hand, the way I used to when we were kids. Whenever we’d be shoved into someone’s car, on the way to the next house. “I’m sorry, Em.”
“For what?”
“For leaving you right after high school as soon as I could. I was a selfish asshole,” I admit, still unable to wrap my mind around how I could leave so easily.
How I could compartmentalize, throwing everything into my training, my job.
Barely even thinking about my family, because thinking about them hurt too much.
“Starting your career and making money was not an asshole move,” she argues.
“Okay, but it was an asshole move to leave again when Mom was diagnosed. You never should have had to step up in the first place. You had a whole family and a husband…and I just fucked off.”
Her lip twitches. “You did. But you came back. You stepped up this summer. I’m really proud of you for that. And mostly, for giving Mom some grace. For spending more time with her, giving her a chance to show you who she really is before it’s too late.”
It feels wrong to be thanked for that. For enjoying Mom’s company on her good days, laughing at her ridiculous stories, even if she can get on my nerves at times.
I’m not sure what changed with her over the years, or whether she’s always been this person deep down, but something about her energy is infectious.
If anything, finally getting to know Mom over these past few weeks was the privilege of a lifetime.
· · ·
I get a call from Deidra at the rescue farm the next day.
“Someone put in an application to adopt Cody,” she informs. Her tone is casual enough, but the words hit me like a sledgehammer to the face.
“Nolan? You there?” Deidra asks after too long a silence.
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m just surprised.” I shouldn’t be. The little guy is fucking amazing. Of course someone else would want him.
“Yup. It’s an older couple whose dog passed a couple months ago. It also had skin allergies, so they know all about his medications and special diet.”
“Whoa. That actually sounds perfect,” I say, even though it doesn’t feel like it. When I tell you my heart drops out of my ass, I mean it plummets through the floor.
“Doesn’t it? They want to come meet him tomorrow, and if all goes well with their background checks, I think it’ll be a go.
” She sounds optimistic, and I should be, too.
I know it’s selfish. I should be elated at the prospect of him finding a forever home.
A family that loves him and has the time to give him all the attention he needs.
“Anyway,” she continues. “I just wanted to call and let you know because you two had developed a bond. I know you said you weren’t in the market for a dog, but I wanted to confirm that was still the case and give you the chance to throw your name in the hat.”
I clear my throat. Fuck. Of course I want to adopt Cody.
But would I be making an impulsive decision, like Andi said?
Is all the stuff with the house going up for sale, Mom’s health, and her moving into the facility messing with my head?
The last thing I want to do is adopt Cody and then come to the realization that I should take the Denmark contract. It wouldn’t be fair.
“Believe me, Deidra, I want to take him, but I don’t know where I’ll be next week and—”
“No worries!” she says quickly, like she anticipated that answer. “I’m going to proceed with the adoption, then. Feel free to come by today or tomorrow if you want to say goodbye.”
I drive to the farm first thing the next morning, my stomach coiled into tight knots. This is a happy day. This is a good thing, I tell myself.
When I come through the gate, Cody bounds over, his tongue out to greet me with a million licks.
Then, he flops over, giving me access to scratch his oily belly, completely oblivious to the fact that today is the biggest day of his life.
He’s getting adopted. I run my hand over his peach fuzz and force a smile, but inside, I’m absolutely gutted. It should be me adopting him.
And then something happens. The moment his big, dark, trusting eyes meet mine, something breaks. For the first time in two decades, I cry. And it’s not just a few tears I can hold back. It’s a full-on, shoulder-shaking, loud sob. A long-overdue one at that.
Cody tilts his head at me, confused, and then, as if sensing it, he starts whimpering, too.
I manage to collect myself (barely) in time for the arrival of his new family. Like Deidra said on the phone, they’re an older, salt-and-pepper-haired couple. They’re kind and gentle with him, giving him space when he cowers away from them, pressing his whole body between my legs.
They reassure Deidra and me, promising to send pictures and updates. And I nod, trying to stay strong as I hand his shaky little body over to them. He whimpers and cries when they take him. And when they drive off down the dirt road, I let go again.
Deidra awkwardly pats my shoulder, unsure what to do. Not that I blame her. I’m a six-foot-four man crying in her yard like a child.
I full-body sob the entire drive home. It’s the kind that makes your gut ache. The kind that empties you until there’s nothing left.