38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Armor, Apologies + the Fish-Dream Prophecy
Aspen
Today, Novel Grounds feels like a battlefield where the treaty hasn’t quite been signed yet. The smell of roasted beans and old paper usually calms me, but today, my stomach is doing gymnastics.
I spot my mother at a small corner table, perfectly poised, her coat draped over the back of her chair without a single wrinkle. She looks exactly like the woman who raised me. Refined, disciplined, and slightly intimidating.
This is precisely why I couldn’t meet her at HollyDates. My mother would absolutely loathe the decor, and Holly’s chaotic energy would distract the hell out of me. Here, surrounded by the hushed tones and towering bookshelves of Novel Grounds, there’s nowhere for either of us to hide.
But as I get closer, I see it. The tension in her shoulders isn't there. She looks...Sweeter?
“Hi, Mom,” I say, sliding into the chair across from her. I leave Bertha for another time. Today, it’s serious.
“Penny.” She reaches across the table, her fingers grazing mine for a brief second before she pulls back. “Thank you for coming.”
I offer her a small smile, and in this moment, I almost forget why I was even upset. The armor I’ve been wearing for weeks starts to feel too heavy, and I realize that right now, more than ever, I just need my mommy.
We order our coffees in a silence that feels a bit awkward at first. But once the steaming lattes are settled between us, she takes a deep breath. Her gaze is fixed on me, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn't look away. Like she wants to see me. All of me.
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about our last conversation,” she begins, her voice even.
“And I want to apologize for how I’ve been.
” She takes a sip of her latte. I’ve always wanted to be a mother, Aspen.
It was my greatest dream. But with that dream comes a mother’s love, and sometimes, my desires for your life eclipsed yours.
I am sorry that I can overstep at times. ”
I fix her with a look.
“Fine. I’m sorry I overstepped a lot.”
I feel the lump forming in my throat. Looking at her, I realize how much I’ve missed her and her sharp wit, the scent of her perfume, the feeling of being her girl.
“I’m sorry too, Mom,” I confess, my voice cracking slightly. “The way I handled things with Luca...Vegas, the radio silence, the way I lashed out. I shouldn't have shut you out like that. I was just so scared of being swallowed whole by your expectations.”
To my absolute shock, my mother lets out a genuine, melodic laugh. She waves a hand in the air, dismissing my guilt with a flick of her wrist.
“Oh, please. Don't be too hard on yourself. I’ve been blinded by a fine man or two in my day, Penny. Lord knows I’ve let a little bit of alcohol and a handsome face lead me into some questionable decisions.”
I blink, stunned. “Mom?”
“How do you think you got here?” she asks with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Ew! Mom! Stop!” I groan, covering my face with my hands while she chuckles.
“And I know you’re working hard on your business. I’ve been cutting out different articles about you that people are printing about your success in such a short amount of time. I’m proud of you.”
I am near speechless because that was the one apology I never thought I’d get. I mean, not that she apologized for it specifically. But to a Black mother, that is just as good!
She starts to say something else, but then she stops. She physically closes her lips, taking a deliberate sip of her coffee. It’s the discipline Dad mentioned. She’s actually trying to mind her business.
“Go ahead,” I nudge her, smiling. “Say it. Whatever it is.”
She exhales, leaning in closer over the table. “Fine. I wasn't going to bring up old superstitions, but... I dreamed about fish last week.”
In our world, in our culture, dreaming of fish only means one thing. I look down at my latte, tracing the foam with my stirrer.
“Well,” I whisper, looking back up at her, my pulse thrumming in my fingertips. “Maybe those old superstitions aren't so crazy, Mom. I’m two weeks late.”