38. How Much Longer
38
HOW MUCH LONGER
SETH
Christmas Eve arrives, and I head to the airport to collect my parents, who have decided to spend the holidays with me this year, instead of me making the trek back home. I’m pretty sure it’s just a ploy so that my mother can meet Kylie, but I’m looking forward to seeing them all the same.
“Good to see you, son.” Dad reaches me first, clapping me hard on the back when he hugs me.
“You too, Dad.”
Mom pushes him aside and takes my face in her hands. I tower over her, but she’s never let that stop her from reminding me who’s the boss. “You’re looking thin. Why do you look so thin?”
I shake my head and give her a hug. “I’m fine, Mom.”
She tsks but lets it go. I take her suitcase and she walks along beside me while I lead them out to the car park. I feel like I’ve been here a lot lately.
“So, when are we going to meet this girlfriend?”
Ignoring the little flutter in my stomach at the word girlfriend , I look at my watch, then back at her. “It took you two minutes to ask that? That’s got to be some sort of record.”
“Oh, hush you. I just want to meet the woman who makes you smile so much lately.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “Kylie is spending Christmas Eve and morning with her family. I’ll pick her up later tomorrow and she’ll have dinner with us.”
“Did you get all the food on the list I gave you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I got a turkey, the yams, brussels sprouts and all the rest of it. And we’re picking up the pumpkin pie on the way home.” I’d even gone to the grocery store myself to get it all, something I usually actively avoid because I hate the grocery store.
“Good boy.” She pats my cheek before climbing into the back seat.
I roll my eyes at Dad, who just shakes his head and gets in the front seat. It’s going to be a long forty-eight hours. I’d worry about them meeting Kylie, but after the multiple times I’ve endured fear-inducing conversations with her grandfather, I figure she can handle my mother for one night. I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her a quick message.
Seth
Heads up, my mother is going to be full of questions tomorrow.
Kylie
Mothers love me, I’ll have her eating out of the palm of my hand, just you watch.
I snort, pocketing my phone and sliding into the driver’s seat. I have absolutely no doubt that by the time we go to bed tomorrow night, she and my mother will be the best of friends.
“So, Kylie. How long are you in Calgary for? ”
My mother has known Kylie for all of five minutes and she’s already going straight for the hard questions.
Kylie is sitting on one of the bar stools behind the bench in the kitchen and avoids my gaze while I get a beer from the fridge, taking a sip of her water. “Only a couple more weeks.”
I hate how much it hurts every time I’m reminded that she’s still planning on going back to Australia. We have continued to avoid talking about it, and now it’s become the elephant in the room every time we’re together. At the lodge last weekend, when I’d carried her up to our room, I’d come so close to telling her the three words that have been on the tip of my tongue for weeks. But I don’t want to pressure her into staying, and a part of me is scared to be the first one to say it when I don’t know where she stands.
“Oh, that’s so soon.” Mom pouts a little while she stirs the gravy.
Kylie shifts in her seat a little. “Yeah, it’s coming up fast.”
I move to stand behind her, placing my hands on her shoulders.
“Have you thought about staying longer?” Mom just keeps on pushing all the wrong buttons, and I squeeze gently when I feel Kylie’s shoulders tense under my fingers.
“How much longer until dinner’s ready?” I ask, hoping to derail the conversation.
Mom glances at me, and I try to convey the need for her to stop asking questions silently, widening my eyes and shaking my head slightly.
“About ten minutes. Your father just needs to carve the turkey. Why don’t you kids go get washed up and I’ll let you know when it’s ready?”
I breathe out, very aware of the fact that Kylie practically flies out of her chair. I follow her to my room, standing back while she flops backwards onto the bed.
“Sorry,” I say, watching her swallow while she stares at the ceiling .
“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like she’s the only one asking those questions.”
I slide my hands into my pockets and lean against the wall.
When I don’t respond, she props herself up on her elbows and looks at me. “But you still haven’t asked me those questions.”
I shrug. “I’m not sure I want to know the answers.”
I don’t want to be having this conversation today. I just want to spend Christmas with her and my parents and not think about the fact that she’s getting on a plane and leaving, possibly forever.
She watches me, eerily quiet, and I force myself to hold her gaze, even though I want to look away and pretend like this isn’t making me feel like crap.
She finally gets up and moves to stand in front of me, placing her hands on my chest. I cover them with my right hand, and she rises on to her tiptoes to kiss me. I lean into the kiss, allowing her to distract me with her lips so that we don’t have to talk about it any further.
Dad hollers out that dinner is ready, and we break apart. I squeeze her hands gently before letting them go, following her back down to the kitchen.
We chat about meaningless stuff at dinner, and I get the sense that Dad has told Mom to ease up on the hard hitting questions, which I’m grateful for. Once we finish eating, Mom goes to their room and returns moments later with a photo album.
I groan. “Oh, no you didn’t.”
“I most certainly did. Kylie, here are Seth’s childhood photos. It is my duty as his mother to share every awkward and adorable phase of his life.” She hands the album to Kylie, who looks far too excited about this.
“Oh my god, you were so cute!” she exclaims, looking at a baby photo of me dressed in a little Vancouver onesie. “The wrong colours, though.”
Dad huffs. “I’m still waiting for the day that you play for my team.”
“I think you might be waiting a while. Mounties fans have claimed him.” Kylie winks at me before going back to the album, defusing that slightly touchy subject with ease.
She looks at every single photo, listening to the stories my parents tell about each one while I sit beside her, watching them all.
How can I possibly watch her get on a plane when she belongs here with me? Why can’t I just ask her to stay?
Because I’m worried I’m not enough for her.
That night, Kylie lies draped over me. I’m not used to her being so quiet, and I find it incredibly disconcerting. The closer we’ve gotten to her departure date, the more introspective she’s become, and I don’t know what to say or do to make the awkwardness disappear.
I know she’s still awake, so it doesn’t surprise me when she lifts her head to study my face in the moonlight.
“Why won’t you ask me to stay?”
I run my hand up and down her back, scanning her face while I try to put into words why I can’t make this decision for her. “I can’t… I can’t be responsible for forcing you to make that choice.”
She swallows hard. “Why not?”
“Because… I just… I don’t even know how to describe it… You’d be giving up so much… What if being with me makes you miserable? You’ve said it yourself, our worlds are so different. And you didn’t sign on for having to deal with the fans and all that attention. I could never ask someone to… It’s just a lot.” I don’t know why I can’t put into words what all my fears are.
“Do you not want me to stay?”
I can’t quite tell in the dark, but it almost looks like there are tears in her eyes, and I feel terrible. This is exactly why I haven’t said anything before now. Because it’s my own issues that have kept me from begging her to stay .
“It needs to be your choice. And I can’t be the only reason you stay here.”
She doesn’t reply, her eyes shining in the moonlight before she nods slowly and lets out a long breath, before laying her head back on my chest.
Neither of us says anything further, but it’s a long time before either of us falls asleep.
When I return from dropping Kylie home the next morning, Mom is waiting for me. I can tell something is troubling her when she hands me a cup of coffee and pats the seat beside her on the couch.
“What’s up?” I ask, sitting down next to her.
“I hope I didn’t cause any issues between the pair of you last night with all my questions? Your father was worried I’d upset Kylie.” She bites her lip while she wrings her hands.
“It’s fine. Kylie wasn’t upset.” I’m not sure I want to be having this conversation with my mother, as much as I love her.
“But I overstepped, didn’t I? I hadn’t realised it was such a touchy subject when I asked her if she was thinking of staying longer.”
“We just haven’t really talked about it.”
“Why not? Don’t you want her to stay?” She raises an eyebrow, leaning against the back of the couch.
“I do. But I would be asking her to give up everything she’s ever known, and for what? To sit around and wait for me to come home for eight months of the year?” I stare at the untouched coffee in my hand.
“Seth. You have so much love to give. You are always putting everyone else’s needs before your own. It’s what makes you such a good captain. But Kylie doesn’t strike me as the type who would just be sitting around waiting for you. She seems to really enjoy her job here, and it doesn’t seem like she’d have any trouble making friends. You shouldn’t be afraid to ask her to stay if it’s what you really want. Does she know you want her to stay?”
“She wants me to ask her, but it needs to be up to her. I can’t force her to make that choice.”
Although I keep staring at my coffee, I can feel my mother’s gaze burning into the side of my head.
“Asking her to stay isn’t taking that choice away from her. But if you don’t tell her how you really feel, you’re not giving her the chance to make an informed decision. I think you need to talk to her about it properly. I know you’re not great at talking about your feelings, but a woman like that doesn’t come along every day.”
I know she’s right, but no matter how much I think about it, it just feels like I’d be asking her to give up so much with no guarantee that it wouldn’t be a mistake. That she wouldn’t end up resenting me for the sacrifices she had to make to be with me.
When I don’t reply, Mom pats my leg and gets to her feet.
“Just don’t let your own issues get in the way of what could be the best thing to ever happen to you. That’s the last advice I’ll give you on the subject.”
She wanders off, leaving me alone to stew over her words.