19. Waverly
CHAPTER 19
WAVERLY
Fortunate:I thought I would get seasick, but I’m not. Not at all. In fact, I think I convinced Roman to give me sailing lessons.
Unfortunate:Victoria must have unpacked all of my one-piece swimsuits and swapped them out for bikinis. (Well played, Vic. Well played.)
I know I said I’m going to do what makes me happy and I give zero fucks, but Janine scares the shit out of me. She always has. Especially the first time Patrick introduced me to her. Maybe it’s because she’s a mother of boys, and she’s seen a thing or two, and mothers get weird about their sons. And from my personal experience, really weird.
“Who are you saying goodbye to?” Her head tilts in pity with her sad amber eyes and her lips in the shape of a frown.
“Patrick.” I wince at the abruptness of my words. It must be hard for her to hear. And it’s not like my delivery’s going to make it any easier. To be fair, it’s my own personal closure with him. Everyone mourns differently.
I expect to be shunned, snubbed, pushed off the boat and fed to the sharks. We are a little farther from land now. A perfect place for a slice-and-dice incident. But instead, she pulls me into a tight hug. “I understand.”
What?! I’m confused. And it’s about to grow.
She keeps me close, her hold so tight as if she’s afraid to let go. “Sweetie. I’m sorry.” Umm, okay? “I should have been there for you. And for Roman. And for Harold.” Her voice is shaky, as if she’s about to cry. “In no world should a parent outlive their child. It’s cruel. It’s unbearable, and I chose to take medication to numb my pain instead of dealing with it.” I can feel her body begin to tremble in my arms. “You guys didn’t just lose Patrick that day. In some ways, I died along with him.”
My shirt is wet with the tears she’s no longer able to hold back, and I scramble for the right words to say to her. Janine and I have never had a moment like this. I guess we’ve never had a reason to have a moment like this…
“You did what you had to do to get through it. Nobody faults you for that, Janine. You grew him, raised him…” My voice cracks as I try to hold in a sob. “It’s…I can’t imagine how hard it is.”
We hold each other for quite a while, neither moving noracknowledging there is a world outside our healing hug that’s taking place on the stern of a yacht. And when we finally let go of each other, our tears are long-dried, and there is a newly established mutual respect between us.
“I’m sorry I was short with you when you came on board today. I’ve been fighting an internal battle.”
“With what?” Now I’m giving her the tilted head.
She walks to the railing, looking out at the coastline. “I wanted grandbabies. And I made Patrick promise me he’d give them to you—if you wanted them, that is.”
“He always told me he didn’t want kids.” I was more than disappointed when Patrick and I had that talk. That conversation was had over a bottle of wine. Probably not the best timing, but it was too late to take it back once it happened. At the end of the day, I caved and told him that just being with him made me happy. And he said, “Good, because this is a topic I’m not budging on.” My heart broke a little bit more that night.
“Walk with me?” Janine turns from the view and crosses my path, opening the door to the main salon and gesturing me through. Naturally, I follow and watch as she uncorks a bottle of 2012 Underwood Pinot Noir, pouring us both a glass.
I watch a true wine connoisseur swirl the red liquid around the glass before it meets her red-stained lips as she takes a generous sip
“I know it shouldn’t be my main concern, the whole grandbabies thing, but I’m going to be sixty next year, and I’d love to be able to play with them, you know, before I’m deaf, or blind…or dead.” No filter. Got it. “You know, Waverly… Part of me always figured Patrick wouldn’t be the one who gave me grandkids. Roman, though—I had high hopes with the girl he was seeing.” She shakes her head in disappointment.
My throat goes dry and I feel a lump form, making it hard to speak. I’m basically jealous of a younger, more youthful version of myself.
She whips her wine glass around like it’s empty, leaving red liquid to splash over the sides. “They’ve been off and on for years.”
“I met her once before today.” I don’t know why I’m feeding into this conversation. I can’t help but wonder why she’s getting into Roman’s love life.
“He never brought her to family functions. At least not for the past five years. Not the ones you were at, anyway.” She glances at me over her wine glass. “I never understood, but I see it now.”
Am I drunk? I must be drunk. I’m usually one to read between the lines, but I’m trying not to do that anymore. I’m trying to go with the flow. “ Be the ocean ,” Tom said. I can’t be the ocean when she’s being cryptic with her message. She is an attorney. Attorneys are good with veiled meanings and dancing around answers.
I take another sip…gulp… of my wine and wonder if she’s going to keep talking, or if I’ll have to surreptitiously beg her to continue. It’s the latter.
“I’m confused. What do you see?” My voice rises while I trudge through the chaos in my head. I know I’m wearing my expression on my face: pinched, raised eyebrows, wide and unsure eyes. It’s my biggest flaw, says my mother.
“Roman had a thing for you. Or still has. ” Her eyes narrow and she gives me a sideways grin. The one Patrick would give me. He was his mother's son, for sure. “But he doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Who doesn’t tell you anything?” Thank fuck! Roman appears out of thin air like he could hear my silent pleas for a savior. Even Harold would have sufficed.
His mom snaps out of her interrogation that wasn’t an interrogation, but that sure felt like one. Strange. “We were just catching up. You know, girl talk.” She finally sets her now-empty wine glass down.
“Have fun, you two. I’m going to find your father.” She pats Roman’s shoulder and disappears behind a door.
I’m going to need something a lot stronger than wine if I’m going to make it through this trip.
I feel Roman’s hand grab my elbow and give it a gentle squeeze. “You okay? When I saw her talking to you, I knew I needed to come to your rescue.” He smiles. God, that smile. It can light up a dark room. My head is light and airy from the wine. My cheeks are warm, and my head is fuzzy enough I’m starting to relax.
“I’m fine. It was a bit intense. A lot of chat about grandkids.” I fake laugh. At the funeral, Roman mentioned he wanted little Romans running around. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to give him that, but I’m a little more anxious about the thought now. Pregnancy at this age is considered high risk.
I pour a shot of whiskey from the bottle that's sitting next to the wine, and hand one over to Roman before I shoot one myself, then I pour another and do the same thing.
Tom’s words ring in my head. Let go of fear.