2. Taran
“Ma?” I call as I let myself into her house with my key.
“In the kitchen, sweetheart,” she replies.
I go in and find her at the table, doing her crossword with a cup of tea. She gets up and I fold her into my usual bear hug as she playfully protests. When I pull away, she reaches up and ruffles my hair.
“It”s getting long now, are you growing it out?” she asks fondly.
“Nah, just too busy to go. I will soon.”
She hums her acknowledgment as I head over to the cabinet to grab a glass and fill it with water from the fridge. She turns back to her crossword as I let my eyes roam over her face, and then do their cursory check of the house. She”s 68 now. Her thick, shoulder length hair is still predominantly black with grey streaks, her face lined but not nearly as much as someone her age could have, her blue eyes still bright. Due to her recent stroke, she is starting to look more her age even though she”s still beautiful. It destroys me to look at her sometimes. 3 months after it happened, and the left side of her face is still slightly drooped. Her left hand and arm are also a little too weak to use them fully. It hit her right frontal lobe, which I quickly learned is the part that controls executive function. I was told by doctors to keep close watch, that she may forget to lock things, or turn off the oven, or she may go drive and get lost. So even though we have a visiting nurse named Valentina thanks to my much more well off big brother, I still stop by every day before work to check on her before the nurse comes to get her showered and everything else.
“Ma, you should have waited for me or Val to make you tea.” She scoffs. I know she is chafing at her dwindling independence.
“My dear boy, if I can”t even put a kettle on the stove, you might as well just shove me in a nursing home.” I close my eyes, silently begging for patience.
“Neither of us wants that, mom, but you need to be safe and do what the doctor recommends. He wants you to rest and stay out of the kitchen for now.” I don”t go further so she doesn’t get more upset. I’m not going to say a big part of it”s because we don”t know how her executive function is affected day to day right now as she recovers, and we”re afraid she”ll leave the stove on. “Please, Ma,” I plead, my voice breaking a little at the thought of anything happening to her, “please just do what the doctors say.” She rolls her eyes like she”s mad at me for asking, but nods and pats my shoulder.
It”s been just her and me for a while. I was the surprise, showing up 10 years after my big brother when my mom was 40. A welcome surprise, but still a surprise since she and my dad had tried for another baby fruitlessly for years after Seth was born. When I was only 8, Seth left for Stanford and then Silicone Valley across the country. I see him once a year at most, he”s busy with his own family.
My dad passed away 10 years ago from pancreatic cancer, and my mom hasn”t been quite the same since. She had been a stay at home mom pretty much for 28 years when he passed, I had just graduated high school. She tried part time work at that point, but it was too hard on her. So instead of college, I went to work so that we weren”t completely relying on Seth to send us money or burn through what my dad left. He made sure we were taken care of as best he could with his pension and life insurance, and it was enough that between them and me working, we’ve been pretty secure. I would take having him back and being poor any day of the week, though. Seriously, cancer can go fuck right off.
It”s been a decade and it still hurts so much, especially when I”m here and so many memories flood in. The house has basically been frozen in time since he passed, my mom won”t get rid of any of his things or move anything around. The kitchen I’m standing in is straight out of the 80’s. It”s why she is hell bent on never going to a nursing home, she will never willingly leave the home they built together. It”s also why I needed to get out of there because seeing it all became too painful. I have a small studio apartment nearby that is not at all luxurious, but it”s budget friendly.
My mom never wanted to try again for love or companionship, and I hate that she is alone so much. At least now Val comes to take care of her every day, and they usually end up chatting and playing cards over hot drinks or meals. It is the absolute only positive thing to come out of her having her stroke. I”ve been thinking of moving back in too, just so she has someone around at night. She most likely would resent it, though. Knowing her, she would feel like she”s being a burden, and not able to function on her own.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the door opens and Val comes in with a friendly wave and smile. She was a nurse for over 30 years before she retired, but she got a little bored and signed up to be a visiting caretaker through a private company. She refused to give up her license and wanted to still stay sharp with her skills. My brother hired her to not only be there to tend to our mom medically, but also help make sure she is clean, well fed, and has some companionship. We just helped her celebrate her 58th birthday last month with her husband, kids, and her new granddaughter. The woman is an absolute godsend.
“Good Morning, Evelyn, Taran,” she says warmly in her soft Ukrainian accent.
“How are you today, Val?” I ask.
“Good thank you, how are you both?”
“My beloved son thinks I”m incapable of making a pot of tea,” my mom grouses. Val goes into brusque nurse mode at that. “Evelyn, are you trying to take my job? I love being here with you but you should still make sure Seth is getting his money”s worth,” she chides gently but firmly. “You know what the doctor said about working the stove at this point in your recovery.”
My mom mumbles something under her breath, looking defiant, then sighs in defeat and nods stiffly at Val. I know it isn”t easy for her to not be able to be as independent as she is used to, but I”m hoping against hope that if she rests up, does what the doctors tell her, and keeps up with her exercises, she”ll recover enough to get some of her independence back. Val”s voice pulls me from my thoughts as she continues her conversation with my mom.
“Let”s get you cleaned up, my dear, and then we can have you beat me at cards again until we have to go for your therapy appointment.” Val then asks me, “Do you have time to stay for breakfast after her shower?” I shake my head ruefully.
“No, I”ve got a granola bar in my pocket, breakfast of champions, but thanks, Val. I should get going to work so I”ll say my goodbyes now.” I give Val a quick kiss on the cheek and thank her for the millionth time for everything. Then I pull my mom into another bear hug and kiss her head.
“Call me if you need anything, there is that leftover lasagna that you just need to microwave for dinner.”
“I know, son, thank you.” She pats my back, then pulls away to take my face in her hands. She looks at me intently as she says, “Worry about yourself a little too, ok?” There must be confusion in my face, because she goes on. “You need to live your own life. What kind of mother would I be if you missed out on everything because of me? I”m supposed to look out for you, and care for you, not the other way around. You”re here everyday for me and don”t go far from your apartment in case you need to run over here. I want you to have some fun. You”re 28, this is the prime of your life. You”ve been wasting it on me for a long time.”
My eyes start to feel hot with tears, and I can barely do more than croak with how thick my throat feels. “Ma, how can you say that being here for you is a waste? Stop that. You”re all I have here.”
“Ah, but that”s just it. If this stroke has shown me anything, it”s that I won”t be around forever. You had dreams before we lost your father, and you dropped everything for your older mother. I”ve been numb since he”s been gone, which has not been fair in the least to you. You”ve taken on too much, and I allowed it.” She huffs out a breath, forming her next thoughts. I”m staring at her blankly, trying to process her words as they wash over me. “When you inevitably lose me, whenever that may be, my most sincere wish is that I leave you in a life you find fulfilling, following your forgotten dreams, with someone special you love to be there for you.” She releases my face and gives me a little playful swat. “Now get out of here before you”re late and let me shower. We”ll talk more later when you look less shell shocked.”
Val obviously has heard everything, and loops my mom”s arm through hers looking a little glassy eyed as they make their way toward her bathroom. Like the pro she is though, she just stays silent and doesn”t comment, giving me the barest of farewell nods. I stand there reeling for a minute, every emotion tumbling around in my head, before I take a deep breath and push through it to get to work.
BY THE TIMEI check into work to pick up my truck full of packages, I”ve managed to get my game face on. I chat a little with the other drivers getting their trucks, check in with my loader about how much I”ve got to deliver today, and look at roughly how long my route will take if there is the usual traffic. It”s going to be a longer day. Another driver I’m friendly with, Hank the Tank, hears me say as much to my loader and comes over. He comes by his nickname honestly at 6’4 and probably almost 300 pounds of muscle. Of course, he’s a total softie once you get to know him a little.
“You’re on Dave’s old route, right?” he asks.
“Yup, I applied to snatch it up as soon as I could when he moved. It’s a nice route.”
“Lucky bastard. I can’t wait to get my own route.”
“Elliot has been talking about retiring, and you’re due soon for your own route. Get your name in for his if it comes up.”
“I plan to. Have a good day out there, man!”
“You too, Hank.”
We fist bump and get to our respective trucks. I try to focus on my route, but my mom’s words keep playing on repeat in the back of my mind. How could she say that she hasn”t been fair? She gave up her life for me for 18 years, it”s the least I can do to make sure she is taken care of now. That”s just what a son does for the best mom that has ever existed. I know I sound like a mama”s boy, and I”m not ashamed of it. We will most definitely be talking much more about what she said later, it looks like she and I have a whole lot of thoughts that need to be spoken and hashed out.
My morning goes smoothly, and I”m able to keep going through my route with no issues, hauling packages, and greeting lots of cute dogs with treats. I give their owners my biggest smile, because I love that moment when the smile makes their faces soften and smile back. It doesn”t always work, and I will never, ever, be THAT jerk that tells women in particular they should smile more. Most of the time I at least get a lip twitch in return though, and it makes both of our days better. Putting on a happy face for my mom when my dad passed was the only way I could think of to try and deal so she wouldn”t worry about me so much, and it”s apparently carried into the rest of my life too.
It’s beautifully sunny again today, with a bright blue sky and vivid fall colors bursting from the leaves in the tree lined streets. I can’t not enjoy it, so for lunch I grab a quick sandwich and soda at the local deli to eat while walking around outside with my airpods in. The playlist I listen to every day filters through the little ear pieces. My dad was a huge classic rock fan, and I grew up on the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, The Kinks, you name it. He used to do the absolute craziest faces when he would sing along to Immigrant Song that never failed to make me crack up. Playing his favorites like this always makes it seem like he’s still here with me.
When I finish eating, I can”t help but grin as I take a look at where I”m delivering for the afternoon. Just like yesterday, I”ll be heading to a bunch of houses in the neighborhood where I met Lyra and Brody toward the end of my day. It”s great because it”s a neighborhood close to my mom”s house and the hub, so I can easily drop off my truck and go check on her after work. Today I’m grinning because there’s a delivery for Lyra that requires her signature. I have two goals I am determined to accomplish when I get there. Number one is of course to give Brody all of the pets and love. Two, I am hell bent on lifting her mood and making her smile, without being a creep about it. Our exchange was lighthearted but I didn”t fail to see how sad and tired she looked. Moving to a new neighborhood can”t be easy, and is also no doubt exhausting. The sadness I saw in her eyes gets me though, it seems deeper than just the strain of moving. I don”t know her story, but I can”t lie and say I”m not curious to get to know her better. Even though she was a little standoffish, and shut me down quickly, I liked how quick and sardonic she was. Some spark came into her eyes when we were talking. It’s also a simple fact that anyone who is so soft for their dog is a quality human in my book.
I”m glad she missed it, because when her face completely softened, and she smiled at her dog with so much love, my breath caught. I so desperately want one of those smiles from her it”s downright ridiculous. The final nail in the coffin was when she turned to walk away. Her insanely gorgeous purple curls bounced in her ponytail, and her workout leggings clung to what I have no problem saying is one of the sweetest asses I have ever seen. It swayed to the rhythm of her ponytail and I was hypnotized. It took everything to stop myself from letting out a groan while I blatantly looked her over. Payback and karma and all that for her checking me out first, ok? The woman has all of the lovely curves. My point being, I want to try and get to know her, figure out her story, and see if she”ll let me take her out for a drink. I”m a 28 year old man with a crush. I”ve gone on a few casual dates and had a few hookups since I left high school, but nothing felt right, and I wasn”t in a headspace for anything more than that. I”m not even sure if I still am in that headspace, but after what my mom said this morning, maybe it”s time I figure some things like that out. I”ve ignored it, and frankly been too busy to care, but there is no denying that it would be nice to try and really date someone. I think part of my ignoring it is from being scared. What if I really fall in love, find what my mom and dad had, and then I suddenly lose her? I think watching my mom”s grief made me shy away, even though I rationally know that love and all of its terrifying pitfalls is worth it from seeing my parents together.
When I pull up to Lyra’s house, it”s getting slightly dark and I can see a few lights on. Some of the traffic was awful today, or I would have been here sooner. The sun is bathing the sky in purples and reds as it starts to set. I take a little breath, grab her delivery and go up to ring the doorbell. Barking ensues immediately, and I am ready to accomplish that first goal. Then I hear footsteps, and there she is. Those gorgeous curls are piled on top of her head, her soft looking grey sweater is falling off her right shoulder, and she”s got leggings and fuzzy grey socks on her legs. The whole look is so sexy and casual that I feel my heart begin to pound. I must gape at her for too long, because she clears her throat.
“Hi Taran, is that for me?” She sounds all business but there is the faintest lip twitch when our eyes collide. I have to bring my eyes back to hers, because they ran down her body of their own volition. So much for not being a creep, I mentally berate myself.
“Yeah, um, sorry. Hi, Lyra. This needs your signature, please.” Why am I so flustered all of the sudden? Brody saves me by shoving himself under her arm as she takes the package and reaches for my tablet pen. He”s circling like a vulture and his tail is thwacking my leg as he dances around, but I”m distracted by the rose scent coming off of Lyra as she leans in closer to my little tablet to sign it.
“He wants another treat, he never forgets anyone who gives him treats,” Lyra says wryly. I pocket my little tablet once she signs and bends down to scratch behind his ears.
“Then you are in luck my buddy, because look what I have here,” I say to him. When I produce what he wants out of my pocket, his entire body wiggles as he sits nicely for it. I let him have it and he runs back into the house.
“Thanks for this,” she says, lifting the package in a sort of salute. “I was hoping to get it today to start working on it.”
“Do you get a lot of deliveries like this? If so I better start buying treats in bulk,” I ask with the best mischievous grin I can possibly give her. She very obviously tries to hold it in, but I fucking did it. She laughs. I”m struck dumb by it, because a dimple pops in her right cheek as she does, and the sound is throaty.
“I do. I mostly work remotely, and marketing at my company has to send their materials for me to review exactly how it will look in real life, not electronically.” She”s halfway back through her door before she turns and waves. “Thanks, again.”
I can”t help but wink at her and say, “Anytime, see you soon Lyra.” She rolls her eyes but there is nothing behind it as she shuts her door. I get back into my truck and do a little happy dance in my seat. My mind is so full of questions about her. Where does she work that marketing materials need such careful review? Is there any way for me to make an excuse to see her without having to deliver a package? Most importantly, is she even single? There is no ring that I saw, but that obviously doesn”t mean she is single. Hell, does she even like men? She was clearly checking me out but I don”t want to make assumptions. I try to clear my head to finish up my day, telling myself that I”ll eventually, hopefully, get answers. Then I blast my dad”s playlist and enjoy the hell out of the warm feeling deep in my chest after getting her to laugh. The whole rest of my day I am whistling and humming to myself, already excited for the next time I get to deliver to that little firecracker. After 10 years of grief and just getting by, she’s lit a spark in me again.