Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
LIAM
M om is curled in an oversized armchair near the open-air terrace, reading a book suggested to her by Chloe. Dusk has fallen and Mom clicks the knob on the table lamp beside her, turning up the brightness, as she pores over the pages.
I watch her from across the living room, taking a break from the emails on my laptop to wonder about her connection with her revered life coach. How can a twenty-something provide life guidance to a seventy-three-year-old? It’s not like Mom is trying to educate herself about social media.
But my session with Chloe two nights ago was far from what I expected. She provoked feelings that I did not want to have. Feelings from the past and in the present. I suppose it’s only natural to feel strongly towards your therapist or life coach with all those emotions being stirred up.
No wonder people fall for their shrinks.
“You seem lost in thought.” Mom’s voice startles me. The leather couch squeaks as I turn to face her. I feel the warm Southern California breeze wafting in from the open patio door and smell the chlorine from the pool outside.
“Just wondering how you’re feeling. You seem more tired than usual.” I deflect the attention away from me.
“Oh, you know. The doctor says I’m doing fine, but sometimes I worry.” Her fingers twirl the tassels of a throw draped on the chair. “Chloe has given me such hope, such positivity.” Her eyes sparkle when she talks about Chloe.
“That’s good. So, the test results are all still good then?” I try to steer the conversation toward her physical health and not the life coaching, but Mom seems persistent.
“Oh, yes. But I’m more focused on taking my future seriously. I’m not a young girl anymore, Liam. My time will run out one day, and I want to tick off everything on my bucket list.” She folds the book shut and lays it on the end table.
I can tell where this conversation is going, so I rise and shuffle across the room.
“I want you to accomplish everything on that list and more, Mom.” I open the door to the liquor cabinet and pull out an aged Scotch. It will take the edge off as soon as Mom brings up the inevitable.
“Well, one of the things on my list is something out of my control,” she explains, trying to be nonchalant.
I see right through her and smile to myself.
“Oh yeah?” I pour a few fingers of liquor into my glass and push the cork back into the bottle before rehoming it on the shelf.
I know what’s coming.
“Yes, I would love to have a grandchild.” I turn to see her raised eyebrows. I expected a smile, but her look is more serious than normal. I’m her only child, so the pressure is on.
“I think you have plenty of time for that still.” I sip the whiskey as I make my way back to the couch, where I sit closer to her than before. She shifts to face me.
“Liam, how did things go with Chloe?”
I warm at the thought, remembering her full lips, her white lace bra, her rosy cheeks, and my inexplicable desire to kiss her.
I sip the drink again. It gives me a second to think about how to craft my response.
“We talked about how I’ve been a jerk, basically.” I shrug. I was a jerk to her. I feel a pang of guilt when I think about her tear-soaked eyelashes. If Mom knew what had really happened, she’d be lecturing me until the sun comes up.
Mom nods. “You’ve been closed off. You’re in good hands, though.” She starts talking with an energy that I didn’t know she possessed. “Chloe’s very good at helping you open up. Did you tell her about that woman—the hateful one who nearly ruined your reputation?” Her eyes are wide, and I almost want to laugh. She’s sweet to care so much about things that I’ve forgotten about—a personal assistant who felt burned by my rebuff and tried to spread lies about me in a tabloid.
“No, Mom, I didn’t tell her. I’m long over it. But I’d rather not discuss my private conversation with Chloe, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, fine,” she says, but continues pressing anyway. “But what else did you think about Chloe? She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
I’m caught off guard by her question. I swear I have never seen Mom’s eyes so wide or focused. It’s delightful that she is feeling so lively, but it’s also frightening.
“Um, did you mean for me to date Chloe, or did you want me to receive life coaching?” I am not sure of her mental state nowadays, so it’s a fair question.
“Oh, either one, Liam. I do think whoever ends up with Chloe will be extremely lucky. I’m not sure if she’s your type, though.”
Oh, fuck . I rub my face in my hands and shake my head.
“No, I don’t think so, Mom. We have a professional relationship.”
I watch her eyes study my face, as if she’s detecting a lie the way she did when I was a boy. I’m not lying, but somehow it doesn’t feel truthful either. Seeing her bra wasn’t exactly professional , I rationalize.
The drink to my right calls my name. I take a sip, hiding my uncertainty behind the glass. The room falls silent for a moment as we both reel with thoughts.
I offer a smile and set my whiskey glass down, then scoop up her hand.
“Mom, I want you to relax. Okay? You’re going to live a long, happy life, have a few grandkids, and cross off everything on that bucket list of yours. You have time.” Her hand seems frail in mine, though she’s not supposed to be ill anymore, not like ten months ago.
“Oh, Liam. I’m not going to be here forever. I want to know that you have a woman who will take care of you.” She presses her hand to my cheek and rubs her thumb over my cheekbone. “I’m worried about you. Who will make sure you stop working long enough to eat? How will you?—”
“Mom, I promise it’s going to be okay.” I take her wrist and pull her hand away from my face, cradling both of her hands in mine. My hands seem massive compared to hers. I remember when she would do the same for me, when I was a boy.
I’d hear him hurt her… and she’d come to me and try to comfort me through my tears.
“Oh, Liam. You’ve been through so much.”
“So have you.” I squeeze her fingers. “Let me see that list of yours and we’ll start making things happen.”
“The list is private.” She chuckles and squirms. “I can’t have you following me to the airfield when I jump out of a plane. You’ll never let me take off.”
Her comment brings a roar of laughter as I picture her with a helmet and a flight suit, jumping out of a plane at forty thousand feet. She has always had an adventurous spirit, and I love that about her.
“I think you’re right. You make me a copy of the things on your list that won’t give me a heart attack and I’ll make it happen.” I pat her hands.
Mom nods and stands up. “I’m going to turn in. Big day tomorrow. I have another session with Chloe.” She kisses my forehead and shuffles away, calling over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Liam.”
When she has gone off to her suite to settle in for bed, I take my whiskey glass in hand.
My thoughts turn to Chloe. I wasn’t her biggest fan initially, but I admit I really liked off-kilter Chloe. I think about her series of wardrobe malfunctions and smile. She is gorgeous, and charming, and real . In this town, that’s hard to find.
There is no denying that I am attracted to Chloe. But I feel more confused after our session. She made me feel things, and I don’t know what to make of it.
I swirl my drink and conclude that she Jedi mind-fucked me in some way. I don’t trust whatever mind tricks she’s using, and I can’t let her get under my skin like that anymore.
I have no intention of doing pseudo-therapy again.
But I have a much better idea .