Chapter Nineteen
Karina
The next evening, the sun was low in the sky when we pulled up to Kael’s childhood home, and I felt a sense of nostalgia even though I had never been there. It was almost as I had imagined: a quaint ranch-style house with yellow siding, deep-red shutters on the front windows, and a matching door. The porch covered the length of the house and had white railings and balusters, with handrails on both sides of the steps. The driveway was a circle shape with a giant tree in the center, and behind the house was nothing but trees. The front yard was deep, the house pushed far back from the road. It was unique, and I smiled as I tried to collect all the details, imagining a young Kael running around the yard, playing in the woods behind the house.
“What?” His voice interrupted my imagination. He seemed nervous now, compared to the calm guy who drove for almost three hours while I talked so much that I put myself to sleep.
“Nothing. I love it here.”
He looked at me, full of skepticism. “But we just got here.”
I shrugged, grabbing my purse from the floorboard of his truck. “I don’t care. I love it already,” I said, as a woman, no taller than five feet, stepped onto the porch and waved.
“That’s your mom.” I stated the obvious.
His mouth twitched anxiously and he nodded. “Yeah, that’s my ma.”
“Let’s go in?” I suggested, squeezing his hand. It wasn’t as warm as usual; the cool temperature of his skin surprised me, but I didn’t show it. I squeezed again and he silently agreed, turning off the truck and unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Let’s go in,” he repeated, his breath falling out as if he had been holding it for the last few hours.
Kael’s mom began to cry at the sight of him. She brushed his sweatshirt at the shoulders, her eyes full of tears. “You’ve grown up in such a short time.”
The way she looked at her son made me want to sob. I tried so hard to hold back, to not draw any bit of the attention to myself during their reunion, but damn it, it was so hard. I sniffled, swallowing my emotions the best I could, but I had never in my entire life seen a mother look at her child like that. Like he was the center of her universe, like she would hang the moon and nail the stars to the night sky for him. Without her saying a word, I could feel the immense love she felt for Kael. I tried to imagine how that must feel, to be so loved by a parent, but couldn’t.
In a blue-and-white polka-dot cotton dress that nearly swept the ground, she looked tiny as she wrapped her arms around him. He effortlessly lifted her off her feet, squeezing her small frame as she continued to cry.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m here,” he told her, over and over.
As I stood there watching them, I didn’t feel awkward or like an intruder on such a meaningful moment. I was so happy to see Kael this way, loved and admired by someone important to him, someone other than me.
After a few more moments he gently put her down and brushed her hair back. It was tied back into a low bun but had gotten a little crooked during their embrace. Kael’s hands went to work. Turning her around by her shoulders and undoing the hair tie, he meticulously but quickly redid her bun and kissed her forehead, wiping the tears from her cheeks. I could feel the distance he told me he’d put between them evaporating by the second now that they were together.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’m Dory. You must be . . . well, if my son had any manners, he would have told me your name by now.” She turned her attention to me, smiling and trying to put herself together emotionally. Her smile was a carbon copy of Kael’s, literally identical.
She was stunning, not an ounce of makeup on her skin, with eyes that were almost too big for her face, which made it even more interesting and captivating. Her eyes were so much softer than Kael’s, but I could feel the strength in them. A small woman, but a mighty soul.
“Karina, my name’s Karina,” I said back, not knowing what would happen next.
She wrapped her arms around me before my worries could take me out of the moment. The smell of honey and fresh-cut flowers filled my senses as she squeezed me like she had known me for years.
I couldn’t help but notice the look on Kael’s face while I was in his mother’s arms. A little uneasy, like he wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like him to not be able to control his surroundings, so I was sure this entire day would continue to make him anxious. That made two of us.
“Let’s get inside. It smells like it’s going to rain any minute.” She let me go and turned her gaze up to the sky. I sniffed the air, and realized she was right.
As we walked up the porch steps, I thought about how lovely it would be to sit on this porch during a storm. There were two rocking chairs with floral-printed pillows decorating them, and a table full of empty metal coffee cans, stacks of old magazines and newspapers. It felt cozy and antique, but tidy—a kid’s bicycle with inches of dust on the metal and a flat tire, another table with a game of checkers that hadn’t been touched in a while. It felt like a space full of memories of Kael and his sister’s childhood. I hoped I would have more time to look more closely before we left.
The living room was warm; the air was the perfect mixture of breeze and comfortable heat. The smell of food filled the room. I couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but it surely came from heaven. My stomach growled audibly, and Kael looked down at me, a slight twitch in his lips. He was still on edge, and I was prepared for him to stay that way for a while. I couldn’t measure the time, even guessing, but emotionally this was complicated for him, so my discomfort and anxiety were going to stay hidden to the best of my ability. I needed to be the support for Kael, like he’d been for me since I met him.
“I bet you’re both hungry, so I made some of your favorite food, Kael. Have you ever had homemade chicken and dumplings or shrimp and grits, Karina?” she asked me.
“I wish. But no.” I shook my head. “Even living in Georgia for a while now, I still haven’t. Well, I did have shrimp and grits once, but it wasn’t homemade. So, basically, I haven’t had them before, so I’m excited to try all the things.”
I couldn’t stop my mouth from moving even though my mind was screaming at me to shut the hell up and stop being weird.
“Sorry, sometimes I say stuff—but I’d love to try your food,” I apologized, almost clasping my palm over my mouth to stop myself from saying another word.
Dory smiled and tilted her head to her son. “No need to be sorry. I’m glad you’re a talker, since we know this one isn’t.” She lovingly glared at Kael, and to her point he shrugged and didn’t say anything.
She led us through the living room and into the kitchen so quickly that I didn’t have much of a chance to look around. I did clock some picture frames on the wall but couldn’t make out the subjects of the photos. It felt like I was in a museum of Kael’s life. She waved for us to sit down at the table, and covered her mouth with her arm as she coughed. Kael tensed and patted her back. She told him she was fine and shooed him away. He then pulled out a wooden chair for me. It squeaked against the tile floor, and I sat down with my hands in my lap. He pushed me toward the table and told his mom to sit down, too, pulling a chair out for her as well.
“I want to feed you, it’s been so long,” she said, refusing to take a seat just yet. “You sit down and let me be your momma.” Her voice was soft but fierce, and Kael obliged, sitting down next to me, his leg shaking up and down rapidly, nerves getting the best of him.
Dory filled our plates with a pile of food, and it was delicious. The first bite of a homemade dumpling had me drooling. The texture, something between a biscuit and bread, was insanely perfect, and the broth was flavorful, instantly becoming the best thing I had ever eaten in my life. I devoured my food in silence, as Kael did the same. Dory told us she’d already eaten, and sat down at the table with us, pouring herself some tea from a porcelain pot with little blue flowers on it. She seemed to be used to her son’s quiet nature, and the three of us sat in silence, with only the sounds of us enjoying the food and gulps of water to wash it down among us. Kael was on his second plate of food, and I watched him intently, loving the access to him I was being granted by being here in his mother’s home while he ate his favorite home-cooked comfort meals. The sudden chirp of a cuckoo clock made me jump and almost choke on my food. Kael laughed, barely making a sound, but the smile on his face was impossible for him to hide.
Dory also found it amusing, laughing and apologizing for scaring me. I could feel the embarrassment burning in my cheeks as I coughed and chugged water. Coughing was one of the most ridiculous things to be embarrassed of, but I always had been. It brought me back to coughing in school; every time was mortifying for no reason. I focused on the beautiful color of the wooden kitchen table. It was a medium shade of oak—the top was made of strips of the same wood but with the grain going in opposite directions in a pattern. It was a long oval shape, and the legs were thick; this table could easily last a hundred years. Memories of time together were stained into the surface, making it even more arresting. The irony wasn’t lost on me that my father’s table was cold and spotless, never so much as a crumb or a fingerprint on it. Family dinners in this home were obviously the opposite of my Tuesday dinners with my father and Estelle.
“Where’s Tay? Didn’t you tell her I was coming?” Kael finally asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“She’ll be home after her tutoring session. Even seeing you doesn’t come before her money.” Dory laughed.
I couldn’t wait to meet Kael’s younger sister. I hoped she liked me, or at least could tolerate me. Even though I was fuller than I had ever been, anxiety found a way to nudge itself into the very pit of my stomach. I wondered what it was like to not worry about every social interaction before they happened, to be able to go with the flow.
“Not surprised.” Kael smiled, scooping up the last bit of food from his plate and shoveling it into his mouth.
He stood up to get more but his mom grabbed his plate from his hands and pushed one of his shoulders down, telling him to sit. He looked at me and smiled a little. I could tell he was attempting to quietly check in on me even though he was right next to me. I smiled back and reached for his hand when his mom’s back was to us. I kissed it gently and he brushed my cheek, quickly but tenderly.
“Are you still hungry, Karina?” Dory asked me.
Shaking my head, I put my hands on my bloated stomach. “I’m so, so full. It was the best meal I’ve ever had, and I’m not just saying that.”
“Thank you. Let me know if you want any dessert or tea,” she offered kindly.
Kael went to town on his third plate of food. It made me so happy but a bit sad, thinking of how much he’d probably missed his mom’s cooking. How many sleepless nights full of explosions, gunshots, and screams he must have had while his mom sat in this kitchen worried sick for her son’s life. Incredibly selfishly, I thanked whatever or whoever was controlling the universe for me not meeting Kael until after he deployed. I wasn’t as strong as Dory or Elodie or Gloria. I wouldn’t have been able to handle spending every day wondering if he would survive or not. Even the hypothetical thoughts made my stomach and chest ache.
I finally gathered my voice, trying to distract my mind. I didn’t want to be awkwardly quiet, but I was terrified of being obnoxious or saying the wrong thing. “Can I ask where this table came from? It’s so beautiful.”
Dory smiled, running her fingers across the wood. “Kael made it.” She beamed, her eyes overflowing with pride and joy.
My mouth fell open. “Really? Wow, it’s incredible.” I took a closer look at it.
“When he was what, fifteen?” she asked Kael.
“I think so—” He hesitated, uncomfortable with both of us praising him at the same time.
I reached for his arm and put my fingers around it, gently applying pressure. “You made this when you were a teenager?”
“Yeah.”
“And the chairs,” his mom added. “Except that one,” she told me, pointing at the only chair of six that didn’t match the rest of the set.
“Wow. Why on earth did you join the Army if you’re so good at carpentry? You—” As I realized what I was saying, I pushed my lips shut. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I’m . . . This furniture is so beautiful.”
My stupid, stupid mouth didn’t know when to stay closed. If Kael built a whole kitchen set as a teen, I could only imagine what he was capable of now. His work on my house and his duplex made so much more sense to me now. And building Elodie’s baby’s crib by hand.
“You’re fine,” Kael told me. “I know what you meant.” His voice was soft, not offended. I was afraid to look at his mom out of fear that I had already ruined any chance of her liking me, so I kept my eyes down.
“I wondered the same thing. I told him to try and sell some of the stuff he made. He was out there sanding down wood from the trees behind the house while most kids were running in the streets. But he insisted on enlisting. He’d talked about it since he was a boy,” his mother told me. Her body language was so relaxed, instantly making me relax.
“Okay, you two. Enough about me. I’m going to clean up and leave you two to talk about chairs or politics or literally anything except me. Please,” Kael said sarcastically, rising from his chair. He gathered my plate and his, along with the utensils, and went to the sink.
I tried my best to keep eye contact with Dory as she watched me. She lifted the teapot up and filled her glass as she asked, “Where are you from, Karina?”
“All over, really. I’ve lived in a few different states, but I feel like I’m from Texas because that’s where I spent the best years of my life, until this last one. My dad is in the Army, so we went where he was stationed. I’ve bought a house here, so I guess I like it more than Texas after all.” I had so much to say about my dad, but for obvious reasons I kept it simple.
“And your mom? What does she do?”
I tried to keep my back and breathing as strong and straight as possible. I didn’t want to come off as unstable, and if I hid my fucked-up childhood maybe she would think I was deserving of her son’s time and love.
“She’s—” I searched my brain for a lie, an easy one that wasn’t technically a lie but wasn’t exactly the truth. I made the mistake of looking into Kael’s mother’s soft eyes, and my defenses melted away as my mouth spoke without my brain’s permission.
“I don’t know what she’s doing. She was an alcoholic, or still is, I guess. I haven’t seen her in years, and I don’t even know where she’s living. Before she left she was a stay-at-home mom and wife, though. But she hated it, so I think maybe she’s gotten a job or something by now? I’m not sure.”
Until now Kael had been the only person on the planet I openly poured my thoughts out to without editing them. His mom looked at me with the same understanding expression, not overreacting or with false sympathy in her eyes, making me want to keep going.
“My dad remarried, and his wife now is better at being a wife. She hasn’t really had the chance to be a mother, but she’s sort of trying lately with me. My dad and I have a complicated relationship so it’s a little hard to explain the dynamic. He isn’t exactly a father, he’s so militant and only cares about his wife and the Army.” Kael turned off the water faucet and I looked up at him. He leaned his back against the counter, eyes directly on me.
“Sorry. I’m trauma dumping all over you and we’ve only just met. None of this makes me sound sane . . . or stable.”
I knew Kael was seconds away from swooping in and saving me from my own compulsive mouth, but he didn’t get the chance because his mom began to speak as he took a step toward us.
“Don’t you worry, that’s what kitchens are for, isn’t it?” She smiled. “The good, the bad, and the ugly. And families are always messy and complicated. I don’t know a single person who has a stable or sane family.” She laughed a little and continued, “I didn’t speak to my dad for nearly twenty years before he died, and my mother developed dementia when I was in high school, so I didn’t get much of a chance to know her as I became a woman.”
As I processed that that meant Kael’s mother and grandfather had had a strained relationship and her mother had developed dementia at such a young age, both situations incomparably hard, she began to speak again.
“I know how hard it is and how fundamental it is for us women to have a relationship with our mothers. It’s the most important and the most painful tie we will ever have to another person. I’m sorry about your mother, but I’m more sorry for her that her illness chose for her. I’m sure she regrets it and wishes she could defeat it every day.”
Her words didn’t slam into me the way I would have expected such an intense statement from someone I’d just met today to; they caressed me, wrapping each letter around my body, filling a little part of me that had been missing since my mother left. Even though it had been six years, I’d never really considered my mom living in regret as a viable option.
“We’ve just met, but can I tell you the most valuable thing I’ve learned as a woman, a daughter, and a mother?” she asked me, no hesitation in her voice.
I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice. “Yes, please.”
“When you think about your mother, and even your father, try a bit of empathy. It’s their first go at this life too.”
She reached for my hand, and I couldn’t help my shoulders from shaking, my fingers from trembling.
“It’s damn hard, and it feels much better to be angry, but we’re all trying to figure all this out, mistake by mistake, day by day. When I think about my parents, and myself as a mother, from that perspective, even my children’s father, that gives me a little bit of comfort. So I really hope it does for you too.”
Her one suggestion, piece of advice, whatever the hell I wanted to call it, changed my entire perception. My mother had been my age when she had me and my brother; my father too. Maybe instead of a villain and a selfish abandoner, my parents had simply been young kids trying to figure out how to navigate the world, like me. My mistakes may not be as harmful or heavy, but who got to decide the weight of our wrongdoings and how long our sentences for them should last?
Dory was right; it felt much better to be angry at both of my parents. I had empathy for everyone else around me, to a fault, so why not them? Maybe my mom was sitting somewhere wondering about me, wishing she could ask me how my day was or if I had eaten dinner yet. Maybe my father wanted to apologize for being so emotionally detached from me and pouring himself into his work my entire life.
Maybe, just maybe, my parents were human too.