Chapter 30
May 9, 2024
When I wake up, I’m in my childhood bedroom, which is now a functioning storage room. I peer over at Milo, who’s fast asleep next to me. Good. I don’t want him to get up right now. I want to be alone as I go and check on my mom.
I slowly and quietly inch my way out of the covers. As I stand up, I hear the telltale noises of my mother in the kitchen: dishes softly clanking and the sizzling of the ancient coffee machine that she’s had ever since I was a little kid.
My heartbeat eases from frantic to just speedy. That’s her in the kitchen right now. She’s well enough to go through her normal morning routine. That means she must be okay.
I shake my head. Of course she’s okay. I’ve talked to her in my timeline—in the future, technically. I know she’s fine. I shouldn’t be so worried.
I can’t help it, though. She’s my mom. I love her more than anything, and even just the thought of her being hurt is enough to send me into a worry spiral.
I walk quietly around the cluttered room, somehow moving past the folding chairs, spare ottoman, and plastic bin of winter clothing without making a sound. Once I’m out of my bedroom and into the hallway, I head to the kitchen. My bladder screams for me to stop when I pass the bathroom, but I ignore it. I’ll pee in a minute. I need to see my mom first.
When I see her standing at the kitchen counter with her left leg in a cast, I’m hit with relief. A broken leg. Serious, for sure, but manageable. People break their bones all the time and recover.
When she turns around and sees me, she starts to smile. Before she can utter even a word, I pull her into a hug.
“Goodness, anak .” She lets out a surprised laugh. “Good morning to you too.”
“You’re okay,” I say quietly.
Another chuckle. “Of course I’m okay.”
I give her a tight squeeze in my arms before breaking our hug. I grip her shoulders and glance down at her leg.
She pats my arm. “Oh, anak . You’ve been like this every day you’ve been here this week. I’m fine.” She does a small kick with her injured leg. “See? Just fine.”
When she grins, her carob-brown eyes light up. Two sets of faint crow’s-feet flank her beautiful eyes. I feel my heartbeat slow as I take in her expression, how she’s relaxed and happy all at once.
“You sure?”
She tilts her head at me and raises an eyebrow. Her signature mom look where she’s silently saying, “You’re the kid, I’m the mom. Of course I know better than you.”
“Oh, anak . It’s only a broken leg.”
“Only?” I hold back a scoff. She hates it when I or Jordan scoff at her.
She steps out of my hold to pour herself a mug of coffee. “It was a clean break, remember? And remember when I told you that the doctor said I got lucky because of that? Right through the bone. He said the way I fell off that step stool was practically perfect.”
I can’t help but flinch. “Of course I do,” I lie.
“I’ll be just fine. The surgeon drilled screws into my leg. I’m like RoboCop.” She chuckles and runs a hand through her shoulder-length jet-black hair.
I take a moment to absorb what she’s said. Surgery. Screws. Clean break. Right through the bone.
Those are some jarring-as-hell words to process. But she’s fine. She’s standing in front of me, joking and smiling and laughing, going about her morning routine like it’s a normal day.
I need to ease up.
“Just like RoboCop.” I try to smile.
She winks at me and starts to offer me some coffee but stops herself. “Oh, wait, I forgot that you like tea more now.”
I grab a mug from the cupboard. “That doesn’t mean I’ve sworn off coffee completely.” I pour myself a cup while she dumps a ridiculous amount of vanilla creamer into her cup.
I resist the urge to help her as she makes her way to the kitchen table. There’s already a small plate of pandesal sitting out, her go-to breakfast. But when she pauses and grimaces slightly as she pulls a chair out, I rush over and do it for her.
She rolls her eyes. “I could have gotten it.”
“I know, but I’m here. Let me help you.”
“ Anak , I’ve had nearly a week of you fussing over me,” she grumbles. “I’m sad you’re leaving tonight, but I won’t lie. It’ll be nice to be on my own again. I can take care of myself.”
I shake my head, only slightly annoyed since I’ve heard her repeat that phrase my whole life. My fiercely independent mother hates being doted on. She’s always been this way—strong willed and determined to do everything by herself, even in the most desperate times.
I think back to when I was in middle school and she and my dad divorced. It was then that he started traveling a lot for work, and we hardly saw him anymore. It was a rough transition—she went from having a partner to share the load of parenthood to having to do it all on her own. Supporting two kids on a single nurse’s salary, picking up extra shifts, helping Jordan and me with homework, shuttling us to school and activities and appointments, taking care of us when we were sick, and a million other things. But she handled it all.
Even now as adults, when Jordan and I send her money to help out or try to talk her into dropping a shift at work now that she’s close to retirement, she always rebuffs us. Always with her trademark phrase: “I appreciate that you care, but I can take care of myself.”
I blow on my steaming coffee and choose not to challenge her on this. I’ve learned to pick my battles with my mom. This isn’t worth an argument. So we sip our coffee in companionable silence.
I let the hot, bitter liquid coat my tongue. It’s been months since I’ve had coffee. The flavor hits differently this time. It’s not that it tastes bad. Just that it doesn’t taste as good as I remember it.
She chuckles. “What, you don’t like my coffee anymore?”
I shake my head. “It’s not that. It’s still good. But I guess I’m developing a taste for tea now.”
She lets out a soft laugh as she sips. She swallows, then looks at me, her expression sober. “How are you doing, anak ? Really.”
I’m about to say that I’m doing well, but she keeps going.
“I can’t believe Tristan did all that to you.” Shaking her head, she mutters a Filipino curse word while gazing out the window. “What a snake. He had me fooled. I thought he was such a charmer. I should have listened to your brother.”
She turns back to me and pats my hand. “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
Her deep-brown gaze studies me. “You sure? It’s only been a few months since you found out what he did.”
“I’m sure. I have a really good support system in place.”
She sighs, then smiles slightly. “You mean Milo?”
Heat flashes across my cheeks as I take in my mother’s knowing look. “Yes, Milo’s been wonderful. So have Poppy and her husband. I’m good, Mom. Really.”
She nods even though I know she wants to keep asking me to make absolutely sure I’m telling her the truth. I feel the slightest bit guilty. I need to cut her some slack. I fussed over her minutes ago when I saw her broken leg and wanted to make sure she was okay. She’s doing the same to me right now, because she loves me and cares about me.
After a long sip of her coffee, she clears her throat.
“Don’t hate me for saying this,” she says. “But when I called you to tell you about my fall and that I’d have to have surgery and you told me you’d be on the first flight home ... and you’d be bringing some new guy named Milo, I wasn’t thrilled.” She sighs. “And then when you told me he was Tristan’s cousin, I got a bad feeling.”
She sighs, her delicate shoulders lowering with the movement. “I owe you an apology for that. I shouldn’t have been so distrusting of Milo. Especially after everything he’s done for you and how he’s helped you through the divorce.”
I bite my tongue to keep from asking her for specifics. I just need to be patient and let this timeline play out. I’ll find out soon enough.
“It’s okay, Mom,” I say instead. “Honestly, if you or Jordan or anyone else I cared about were in my position, I would have been suspicious too.”
“Yeah, but I could have been nicer about it.” She sighs, her gaze sad as she looks at me, then her coffee mug. She lets out a weak laugh. “I still can’t believe he was so great when I demanded you put him on the phone to explain himself.” She shakes her head, chuckling. “That’s when he started to win me over.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“When I realized how he was helping you, how he was going against his own cousin for your sake, I realized what a good guy he must be.” She grins at me before cupping my cheek in her hand. “I’m so happy you brought him with you. The whole family is. They loved meeting him at the party the other day. Jordan needed a bit of convincing, though. Goodness, that boy. So stubborn. I don’t know where he gets it from.”
I start to laugh, then stop myself when she shoots me a look.
“I know, I know. Me. Of course he gets it from me,” she says before her gaze on me turns sincere once more. “You’ve got a good man now, anak .”
My chest warms at her heartfelt words. As the warmth dissipates, eagerness collides with my nerves when I think about the family party that will happen soon. I’m about to see how exactly things go down between Jordan and Milo, and I’m nervous as hell.
“Speaking of the devil.” Mom looks past my shoulder and grins. I turn around and see Milo flash a groggy smile at me, then her.
“Good morning, Maria. How’s your leg?”
“Just fine. Now come on, you know we don’t do good mornings like that.”
Milo’s smile turns shy as he walks over and leans down to give Mom a hug. They break apart, and he offers to refill her coffee.
“So nice of you to offer, anak . Thank you.”
Milo steps over to the counter and refreshes her mug.
“Creamer and a sprinkle of sugar?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
He sets it in front of her, and she pats his hand in thanks. He turns to me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Want some tea?”
I nod. As he turns to the cupboard and fetches mugs for the both of us, all I can do is quietly take in the scene. Mom and Milo embracing like they’ve done this a dozen times before—which technically they have, at least in their timeline. How comfortable Milo is moving around my mother’s kitchen. How happy Mom is to have him here.
It’s weird and wonderful all at once.
Milo joins us at the kitchen table, and for a couple of minutes, he and Mom chat. She peers over at me, smiling. “This is nice, isn’t it, anak ?”
I nod, too dazed to speak at first. But then I smile at her and Milo. “It really is.”