23. Dylan
23
DYLAN
M y morning started with the much-needed brunch that Amelia dragged us to. Between the crying and the tequila sodas, I woke up with a splitting headache. Thankfully, the omelet soaked it right up and made me feel like a functioning member of society again.
It was going to be a while before I drank again. My liver and mental state needed a break, and I hated how dependent I was becoming on alcohol to solve all of my problems. I knew better. I had seen the destruction it could cause, and I’m not willing to go down that path myself.
Now, my mom and I are sitting on the couch, eating homemade cupcakes and watching Sex and the City. We started baking when she was going through her recovery. She needed a distraction, and once she stopped drinking, she craved sweets, so we spent almost every weekend trying out new recipes and watching Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte, and Miranda navigate dating in the city. Little did I know that one day, I would be living a very similar life.
I hadn’t noticed how badly I missed it until it was no longer a part of my weekly routine. Now that I had it back in my life, I was going to make it a priority to continue it, even after she left. Although I’m feeling much better today, I can’t stomach the idea of my mom leaving–despite her just getting here–so I rid myself of that thought before it can bring my mood down.
She respected my space while we whipped up the French vanilla cupcakes with buttercream frosting–which made the apartment smell heavenly–but I could tell she was getting antsy waiting for me to divulge what was going on.
I grab the remote and turn the TV down after finishing my second cupcake. I don’t care how bad they are for you; I will always go for seconds and thirds of my mom’s cupcakes. They’re a small slice of home.
“I guess we should talk about it.”
“Whatever do you mean? What’s there to talk about?” She plays dumb, and a grin breaks out on my face. I rest my head on her shoulder and sit in silence for a second, committing this moment to memory.
“Parker’s back.”
“Back in what way?” she coaxes.
I left out the very large storyline, which is my feelings, during our calls. I’m not sure why, but I was already having a hard enough time processing it myself. I thought I was old enough to sort through it without my mom’s help, but here I am, uneasiness eating away at me because I didn’t tell the one person who’s been there for me my entire life what’s been going on.
“Well, you know we’ve been working together..”
“Yes. From the sounds of it, it’s been going fairly well.” She mindlessly strokes my hair, not pushing me to share anything I’m uncomfortable with.
“It has. Evelyn seems really happy with the work we’ve been doing. Katherine has even seemed to back off a little.”
“Then what’s the problem?” she asks, sounding genuinely perplexed .
“Yesterday, after the release party, Parker admitted he was still in love with me. He and Olivia aren’t together. It was all a ruse to make me jealous.”
“That’s a terrible idea. I swear to god, men are so simple-minded sometimes,” she barks, and a laugh bubbles from my chest. “How did you react to the news?”
“I kissed him… and let’s just say that escalated.”
She pulls away from me, lips puckered in suspicion. “Escalated how?”
Most people shy away from telling their mom the nitty gritty details of their sexual escapades, but I never have. After everything that happened with my dad, we spent every waking second together trying to get her in a better place. She became my built-in best friend, and the boundaries most people have with their parents seemingly disappeared. Now, one could make the argument that we’re too close.
I shield my face with my hands, peeking out at her face in between my fingers as I drop the bomb. “He went down on me in the elevator.”
Yup, definitely too close.
Her body shakes with laughter, and I playfully punch her arm. I groan, wishing the furniture could swallow me whole so I wouldn’t have to face the consequences of my actions–and my mother’s reactions to them.
“Well, that’s certainly one way to cope. So I’m guessing you’re now confused about where to go from here.”
“Never been more confused,” I confess.
She shifts on the couch, pulling away to sit cross-legged next to me. She’s dressed comfortably in leggings and a black hoodie, now smeared with flour. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail on the top of her head, and when I take the time to look at her, it hits me just how beautiful she is. I’ve always known she’s been stunning, but when she spent sun up to sun down drinking, her skin was lackluster, and new wrinkles were forming at an alarming rate. Her eyes had lost the sparkle that I remember when I was younger.
She rarely ate, and every time I hugged her, I was afraid of snapping her in half. Her frailness was at the forefront of my mind, and it’s a big part of why I can now cook. I would try to whip up every recipe imaginable to find something she could stomach. It never worked—not until she began attending meetings.
Eventually, her color returned, and she no longer struggled to get out of bed. The days spent wasting away inside turned into days spent outdoors. It started with small walks around the neighborhood, then gradually became hikes. Fortunately, living in the mountains meant there was a vast array of hikes within a thirty-mile radius.
She made new friends in AA, and they started attending yoga, getting monthly facials, and gardening. She found a core group that understood what she was going through better than I ever could. A couple of them were also widows, and I now viewed them as family as much as those who shared my blood.
That was the only way I could stomach leaving her. Had she never healed, I’m not sure I would have ever left. I know she wouldn’t have wanted that life for me, but I couldn’t let her hurt alone.
Now, looking at her, she looked youthful. Free-spirited. I massage softly at my heart as hope blossoms in my chest. I may have lost my dad young, but she turned her life around, and she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
“Can I tell you a story about me and your dad?”
I perk up, always in the mood for stories about their relationship. They had what I consider a fairy tale love. The two met right out of college. It was a blind date, and they both swore it was love at first sight. At least, my dad always did. My mom jokes that it took her a couple of dates to be convinced, but he eventually charmed his way into her heart. He had the personality for that.
As cliche as it sounds, he lit up a room. He was the life of the party, always trying to make everyone feel comfortable. He would’ve given a stranger the shirt off his back, even if he had nothing himself. Luckily, he did well for himself. So much so that my mom didn’t have to work while I was growing up. She was the one who took me on all the school field trips, packed my lunches every morning, and chaperoned all of the sleepovers.
“Of course.” I sit up, matching her position.
“I know your father and I looked perfect from the outside, but we ran into some problems before we got married.” She scoops up my hand and unconsciously brushes her thumb over my skin.
I snort. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. Your grandmother hated your dad when she first met him. She was a tough ass, though, so I was hardly surprised. No one was ever going to be good enough for me in her eyes.”
I never met my grandmother, but I had heard stories about how she was a nightmare to be around. They mostly came from my dad, but he always talked about his problems with her lightheartedly, so I never thought much of it. I never got to see how exaggerated his stories were because she passed away when I was one.
“She banned me from seeing him. We tried to make it work, but I was still living under her roof to help save money, and eventually, it got so bad that we ended things.”
My jaw drops in surprise. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”
Her eyes crease, and her laugh lines grow heavier as she puffs out a small chuckle. “It was before we were married. Before you were even an idea. There was no point in telling you.”
“How long were you guys broken up?”
“Technically, three months. That didn’t stop us from sneaking around, though.” She wiggles her eyebrows wickedly, and the idea of her rebelling from her mom for the sake of love makes me love her that much more.
“You were sleeping with him even though your mom hated him? You hussy!” I place a hand on my chest in mock disbelief.
She rubs her temples at my outburst, but I catch the way her lips twitch in amusement. She continues, “I’ll have you know it was more than sex.”
I stick my tongue out and mime a finger down my throat in disgust. I’m a hopeless romantic as much as the next person, but I don’t need to hear about my parents getting it on. It’s not lost on me that I’m telling her about Parker, but it’s not a double standard because she’s my mom .
She fully ignores me. “Anyways, he showed up on your grandma’s doorstep one night and demanded that she give him a chance. He whipped up a whole dinner. It was spaghetti, and it was absolutely disgusting, but it made me fall in love with him even more. He was so hell-bent on getting her approval.
“While we ate, he told her that while he respected her opinion, he was going to marry me one day anyway. To this day, it was one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me. She appreciated his determination and won her over that day.”
Unknowingly, the familiar burn of tears prickles at the corner of my eyes. I look up at the ceiling, attempting to blink them away. I’m beginning to think that this is a serious medical problem because who the hell cries this much? Is there a doctor I can see about this? Maybe it’s overactive tear glands .
“The reason I’m telling you this is because there are going to be times when life pulls you apart from the person you love the most. But if you’re meant to be together, you’ll find your way back to one another. You both were so young when you started dating, and you had so much going on then. More than any early twenty-something should have to deal with. And that’s something that I will forever regret. I’m your mom. I’m supposed to make your life easier, not more difficult.” She drives away the thought with a snap of her hand and gets back on track.
“Sometimes you just need a little space from one another to realize what you truly want. It might be in your control, and in other instances, it’s not. Either way, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that life is bringing you back to give you a second chance. If you want it, that is.”
“What if I get hurt again? You saw me last time things ended between us. I’m not sure I’d make it through that again,” I choke.
“Of course you would. You can make it through a lot more than you realize, sweetheart. I struggled with addiction for three years after your dad passed. There were days that I prayed I wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t want to spend another day here without him. But here I am, and I’m so happy I’m still around. I’ve had a front-row seat watching you become the incredible woman you are today, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. I know for a fact that you are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
She wipes away a lone tear that escaped down my cheek and then cups my face gently into her hands. “Do you love him?” I silently nod, unable to mutter the words out loud. The minute I do so, the more real it becomes.
“Then I think you know what you need to do.”
“I know. Thank you. I love you, and I’m so happy you’re here.”
“I love you too, Ducky. I’ll hop on a plane anytime you need me, okay? Just don’t be afraid to come visit little ol’ me every now and then, too.”
I curl up against her side, wishing I were as small as I was as a child so I could fit into the crook of her arm as I did in the past. Although I may have grown too big for this, she still wraps both of her arms around me and pulls me into a tight embrace, the warmth encompassing me like a cozy sweater pulled over my shoulders on a chilly morning.
I push down my regret for not visiting her since moving here and my fear of telling Parker my true feelings. For now, I want to soak up every minute I can with my mom. Everything else can wait.
“Ooh, turn it up. Carrie’s about to meet Aidan for the first time.” I break free from her arms, point to the remote that’s resting on the arm of the couch next to her, and grab another cupcake. “They should have ended up together,” I babble with a mouthful of cake.
“Big was never good enough for her,” she agrees. And as we sit there all afternoon, I feel weightless for the first time in months.