Chapter Twelve #2
“What?” I blinked up at her. What had she heard? What had she seen?
But she nudged me out of the way, reaching for the plates in the sink. “You made dinner. I can handle the dishes.”
Growing up, that had always been our deal. Whoever didn’t cook did the dishes. Sometimes we’d done them together; Mom would put on music and we’d dance around the kitchen as she made a chore into something fun.
I clucked my tongue. “You made dinner,” I corrected. “I just thawed it.”
“You made salad and garlic bread,” she countered. “That was a lot of work.” She kept loading the dishwasher while I brought everything else in from the table.
“I threw bread in the oven,” I said. “And I outsourced the salad, remember?” But Mom was stubborn—at least I came by it honest—so I gave up and got down some Tupperware for the leftover lasagna.
There was just enough left for lunch tomorrow.
I packed it up and hid it in the back of the fridge so Mitch wouldn’t find it first.
Mom made a little hum of agreement. “I do remember.” She was quiet then, and when I looked over at her she had an appraising look in her eye. “That Alex guy,” she said. “He’s cute.”
“Mom!” Do we ever outgrow the whine we can put into that one word? “Stop it,” I hissed, which as we all know is the best way to get moms off our back.
“I’m just saying…” She held up defensive, sudsy hands. “I’m not blind. He was looking at you an awful lot.”
“What, at dinner?”
“At dinner. And in here in the kitchen while you two were making dinner. In here in the kitchen, after dinner.”
“It’s not like that,” I said quickly. Because Mom had a matchmaking kind of look on her face, and I needed to shut that down. A couple weeks of fun did not a future make. And that was how I wanted it.
Mom clucked her tongue. “I’m not saying you have to marry the guy.”
“Good thing. Can you imagine—me, on the road with the renaissance festival?”
“Stacey does it,” she said with a shrug. “She seems pretty happy.”
“Yeah, but that’s Stacey. Not me. She was telling me all weekend how unstable that life is.” I gave a dramatic shudder. “Definitely not for me. I like PTO and dental plans. A future that’s more certain.” Until you get laid off again, a little voice in my head said. I told that voice to hush.
“As your mother, I have to say I like those things for you too.” Mom dropped a fistful of silverware into the dishwasher basket. “So do you know him very well?”
“Alex?” I had to laugh at that understatement. “I used to.”
“Oh?” Mom’s eyebrows crawled up her forehead.
“So you two used to be…” It wasn’t a question.
She dunked the lasagna pan in the sink. I watched it slowly submerge into the soapy water like a shipwreck making its way to the bottom of the ocean.
I didn’t want to talk about this. Not yet.
Everything with Alex this time around was new and confusing, and I was trying to keep a handle on my emotions.
But she was staring at me now, with that look that said she wasn’t going to let up till I answered her.
Moms were stubborn, and mine was a champion.
I sighed and braced myself to rip off the mental Band-Aid. “He was…” I shook my head, erasing the beginning of that sentence. “We were…” Not any better. “Summer after high school,” I finally said. “He was with the Sword Bros then.”
Mom gave a blank shake of her head, and of course.
She didn’t have this Faire running through her veins the way the rest of us did; the name of his former act meant nothing to her.
“They were stunt fighters. They had this whole act with swords and whips, a little acrobatics. And Alex was…” How could I describe Alex back then?
An older boy with a quick wit and a quicker smile.
And me, with my brand-new high school diploma and my room half-packed for college.
The world was just starting to open up for me, and I was ready to dive in.
Find out what being a woman was all about.
I’d thought I was all grown up, but oof. I’d still been a kid.
Alex had been right to break things off with me. The revelation was sudden and startling. A betrayal to Young Caitlin. She’d held on to so much hurt for so long, forging this armor that kept me safe from any more heartbreak. I whispered an apology to her in my mind.
“Alex was what?” The flatness in Mom’s voice brought me back to the present. I blinked away my memories as I watched her rinse the soap off her hands.
“It’s complicated,” I finally said faintly.
Mom dried her hands, then frowned at the towel while she folded it very carefully. “He was how old?”
“Twenty,” I mumbled.
“Jesus.” She tossed the towel to the kitchen counter. “Too old for you.” Her face darkened. “Did you two…”
“No! Nothing like that.” But my cheeks heated, because we’d certainly come close once or twice.
“Why didn’t I know about this? Where the hell was I?”
“You were kind of distracted. You know, with Coach Malone?” It had been surprisingly easy to evade my mom that particular summer.
Mom was quiet for a second, obviously remembering very different details about that time in our lives. Details I never, ever wanted to know. “Jesus,” she said again.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’d just tell you I was spending the night at Nina’s or something, and…”
“Oh my god.” Mom pressed a hand to her forehead. “My daughter was going out with an older man and I didn’t even notice? Mom of the year, right there.”
“I thought so,” I said with a smile. “It was easier to get away with stuff.”
She whipped the kitchen towel at me and I dodged it, both of us grinning. “Thank God you turned out okay while I was off doing…”
“Coach Malone?” I said innocently, and she cleared her throat hard.
“Anything else I missed in your life? Anyone else?” Her voice was light, but she was serious. She’d missed out on something big in my life, and she didn’t like it.
I shook my head. She didn’t need to know that Alex and I might be rekindling things; that could wait until I knew for sure myself. “Free as a bird,” I said, borrowing Lulu’s phrase. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do I want to know what that means?” She tossed a detergent tab into the dishwasher, closing the door and turning it on.
“I mean, I’m not a kid anymore. I understand the concept of a summer fling better than I used to.”
“Nope. Still not something a mother wants to hear.” But her tone was teasing as she leaned back against the kitchen counter.
“I’m just saying, I’m not looking for forever just because a guy flirts with me. Besides, I’ve got plenty of time. You didn’t meet Coach Malone till you were forty, right?”
“Oh, honey, no.” Mom put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Please don’t make me your role model for relationships.”
“Why not? You held out until the right guy came along. You didn’t settle for just anyone.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Mom looked uncertain. “I sure as hell did that with your father.”
“Really?” I seized on this. I could count on one hand the number of times that Mom had brought up my father. Much less shared details about their relationship.
Mom nodded. “We met in college, and by the time we graduated, we thought that marriage was just that next, inevitable step. We loved each other. But…” She blew out a long breath.
“We didn’t talk out the important stuff first, like our long-term goals, or what we really wanted out of life.
Turned out, we couldn’t have been more wrong for each other.
But with Mitch, I didn’t settle. I wasn’t even looking, you know?
He wasn’t part of my plan. But the one thing about Mitch…
” Her smile turned wicked, her eyes sparkling. “That man was inevitable. We just fit.”
“Ew.” I didn’t want to know this. I’d spent a lot of the past few years very deliberately not thinking about my mom having sex with Coach Malone.
She whacked my arm; so much for motherly affection. “Not like that.”
“A little like that.” I rubbed my arm dramatically.
She considered that. “Okay. A little like that.”
“Ew,” I said again, more cheerfully this time. “Anyway. Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing this time around with Alex.”
But Mom looked skeptical. “Just be careful.” As she filled up the electric kettle and got down a mug for her post-dinner tea, she threw a look toward the living room, where Mitch had probably settled in on the couch with his injured ankle.
“I said that too.” Her voice was low, a little wistful, and decidedly content.