Chapter 33
Matt
Me: She didn’t even say goodbye to the kids after the show.
Gene: I’m sure she had her reasons. Call her.
I want to call her. Hell, I want to run to her apartment and beg her to let me in so we can figure out what the hell is going on between us.
But at what point do I have to let her words and actions speak for themselves? Because they’re all screaming the same thing.
She doesn’t want to be with me.
It’s Monday morning, two days before Christmas, and I’m at the memory care center, texting Gene while I wait for my mom to return from breakfast.
I’m usually teaching phys ed this time of day, but after a triumphant holiday show, PS44 is officially on break until the new year. And Bossfit classes are slow this week with so many members traveling for the holidays, so I find myself with extra time, and I’m not sure what to do with it.
The staff here told me recently that my mom is often at her best earlier in the day, so I decided to shake things up and try a morning visit. When I arrived, my buddy George was mopping the hallways and told me I could wait in my mom’s room for her.
It’s strange being in my mom’s space without her here.
It gives me the opportunity to really take it all in.
The room smells faintly of her perfume, the same one she’s been wearing since I was a little kid.
I find it wild that a person can change so much—their memory of who they used to be can literally be gone—yet their preferences can stay the same.
Every version of my mom loves this perfume.
I wander over to her nightstand and pick up a framed photo I don’t recall seeing before.
It’s of my parents and me. I’m around seven or eight years old, just a couple of years before my dad died.
I’m sitting on his lap. We’re dressed in our holiday best, a lit Christmas tree behind us. We look happy. Even my mom.
“I wasn’t the best wife to him, was I?” My mother’s voice startles me from the doorway.
“Mom, hi!” I place the photo back on the nightstand and move toward her. “How was breakfast? George told me I could wait for you here.”
“Was I?” she repeats, looking deep into my eyes, clearly wanting a response to a question I have no idea how to answer.
“Were you a good wife to Dad? Gosh, Mom. I don’t know, I was so young– ”
“You know,” she says softly and stares out the window. “I wasn’t.”
“Are you okay, Mom? Here, why don’t we sit you down?”
I guide her across the room and get her settled in her cozy armchair.
The staff wasn’t kidding about her being clearer in the mornings. I can’t remember the last time she brought up the subject of my dad.
I sit on the edge of her bed, facing her.
“That’s why I’m so happy you’re doing things differently,” she continues.
“How am I doing things differently?”
“You’re a good partner to Penny, aren’t you?”
Do I tell her we’re not partners anymore? That we never really were?
Though for a while there, it really felt like we were.
“Where is she today, by the way?” my mom asks. “I like it when she visits with you. You seem happier.”
Gene said that, too.
“You know what, Mom? I’m not really sure where Penny is. Things are a bit weird with us right now.”
“Hmm. You need to fix it then.”
“I’ve tried, Mom.”
Have I really thought?
“Hey, Mom?” I decide to seize this rare opportunity of clarity with my mother. “If you could go back in time, how would you do things differently with Dad?”
“I would have stayed his friend.”
“What do you mean? You wouldn’t have married him?”
“No. I mean, I would have stayed his friend. During our marriage.” Her eyes go glassy, and I know she’s remembering. “Your father and I were friends before we were ever a couple. Then… I let the friendship stop.”
“How?”
“Friends want what’s best for each other, right? They support each other, don’t they?” she says.
I nod. “They do.”
“Well, I stopped doing that. Your dad had dreams he wanted to pursue. I was always so worried about money and—” She stumbles on her words for a moment.
“Well, all I could see was how his dreams would affect me. So I didn’t support them.
And he eventually stopped dreaming.” She sniffs and nods, repeating what she said before.
“If I could go back, I would have stayed his friend.”
The last thing I expected when I came to visit my mother this morning was that she would help me with my Penny problems.
But here we are.
And here’s the truth: I want Penny in my life. As my friend. I love the person she is, regardless of whether she decides to be with me. And I want to see her succeed.
Because Penny has a dream too.
And I’m in a position to help that dream come true. Or at least give it a push in the right direction.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“What did I do?”
“You shared part of yourself with me, and it, um—” I work past the emotion in my throat. “Well, it really helped me with something. So thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
I rise to my feet. “I have to go take care of something right now, but—”
“Before you go!” She stops me with the fierceness of her words. “I need to say one more thing.”
I brace myself. I haven’t felt this connected to my mom since, well, maybe ever, and I’m really afraid whatever she says next will have us slipping into old patterns and this near-perfect conversation we just had will wash away.
“There’s something else I would have done differently,” she says.
“Yeah? What’s that, Mom?”
“I would have gotten help for… whatever it was in me that made me… the way I was.” She smiles up at me, but it’s a sad smile. “I never meant to lie to you. I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know that, Mom.”
And on some level, I do. I always did. I’m not sure we can ever truly know our parents, but a part of me always suspected something was happening inside her that she didn’t understand. I wish she’d gotten the help she needed to address it, too.
“It wasn’t all bad, was it?” she asks. “Your childhood?”
I reach out and take her hand. “No, mom. It wasn’t all bad. In fact, some of it was pretty darn good.”
She squeezes my hand.
“Hey,” I say. “Would it be okay with you if I popped over to see you more often in the mornings when I can? I have the next two weeks off from teaching, and it would be great to talk to you some more about all of this. If you’re up for it.”
She smiles, a real smile this time. “I’d like that, Matthias.”
I lean over and kiss her on the cheek. “Me too, Mom. Me too.”
As I exit the memory care center, I feel lighter than I have in years.
And I’m full of energy and ideas.
I make a call to Eugene to finally explain that business brainstorm I had after Penny’s parents’ Christmas party. With all the upheaval in his—who am I kidding, in his and my—personal lives, we never got around to having that discussion.
“I’m in,” Gene says easily after I finish explaining. “But do you really think we can pull this off in two weeks?”
“Grit and resourcefulness, right?” I say. “That’s how we got Bossfit off the ground. So that’s how we’ll take it to the next level and help Penny, too.”
“Yeah, but two weeks? This’ll take a Christmas miracle, buddy.”
“Good thing I believe in miracles.”
`
Later that night, I’m up in the cleared-out loft at Bossfit, marveling at all the progress a person can make when they know how to call in some serious favors.
The manager at Mother of Junk gave me the scoop on where I could donate the pillows that filled the space just this morning.
One of our members, who works for a flooring company, gave me access to their warehouse, which is full of unused samples.
I even reconnected with an old friend from my actor days who now works as an interior designer, and for dirt cheap, she got me a massive mirror that covers practically the whole wall.
Perhaps most importantly, I emailed all the parents of the Holiday Schmoliday kids, and they’re all onboard to kick this thing off if—hopefully when—Penny is ready.
Like I summoned her, my phone dings with a text from Penny herself.
Pennywise: Matt, I’m so sorry about last night. I can explain.
Just as I’m about to text her back, a photo pops up next.
It’s Penny, looking as gorgeous as ever, with a huge smile on her face.
And she’s holding a tiny newborn baby.