53. Luke
Luke
“Are you sure you’ll be fine while I’m gone?” Natalie lifts her small backpack over her shoulder, leaning down to kiss me.
It’s been three weeks since my accident. She hasn’t gone back to Maple Lake, not even to get her stuff. She told me how she ran out in a hurry to get to me, leaving all her things behind, but now she needs her camera, her clothes, and her car.
Jules flew back a few days after I was discharged from the hospital.
She made sure Nat and I were doing alright before she went home.
I’m grateful that she could stay for the time she did—she helped Natalie as she learned to take care of me, all the way down to when to administer my medications when the pain flares and how to bathe me around the cast on my leg.
Jules didn’t come into the bathroom, of course, because how awkward would that be?
But her tips and instructions were beyond helpful for everyone.
I’ve had a lot of rest since the accident, but I’ve also started physical therapy, which is physically exhausting and mentally taxing.
Natalie gleaned a lot from her sister’s nursing expertise, and I know it did her good to have the help during the stressful few days of transitioning me home after the days I spent in a hospital bed.
My lung has healed from the puncture, and right now our main focus is on keeping weight off my injured leg, which is harder than it sounds. I’m not a good patient when it comes to being immobile.
I twist my head to Nat as she kisses me, pulling her closer with a hand behind her neck. “I’ll be okay,” I say. “My mom will be here, the fridge is stocked with meals, thanks to Emma, and I don’t have to go anywhere for the next few days. I don’t have PT again until you come back.”
She bites her lip. Even with my mom staying here while she’s gone—which is only a few days while she drives her SUV back to Florida—she still worries about me. She looks me over, scanning to make sure I have everything I need nearby.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, reassuring her and letting her go. “You won’t be gone that long.”
She stands back, looking down at the big white cast that covers my leg from my foot to my knee. Thankfully, the marks on my cheek and forehead are just a light pink now, faded from the angry red gashes they were three weeks ago.
She blinks her eyes tightly, and I hold her hand. “Dr. Reena told me it’s good to acknowledge the fears as they come,” she says, “but to remind myself that I’m safe and to contradict each fear with a true statement.”
“So tell me your true statements,” I say, rubbing my thumb over the back of her hand.
Her eyes open and she exhales. “The car wasn’t going faster. You survived, and I got there as quickly as possible. And I didn’t lose you.”
I watch her as she tells me her three truths, so proud of her for going to therapy again and learning to cope with her emotions and fears.
“Good,” I say. “Just remember that.” I smile.
She pulls her shoulders back, breathing out through pursed lips, and grips the shoulder strap of her brown leather bag.
“You’re right,” she says, smiling softly.
“Samantha will take good care of you. Probably better than even I can.” She grins at me with slight hesitation, but the teasing tells me she’s getting better.
Every day, she’s getting better.
I grin back. “No one can take care of me better than you can.”
“Thanks for saying that.” She sighs. “But you’re a terrible liar.” Her smile is devious. “We both know your mom will cook more decadent meals than I could ever dream of making. I’m actually kind of jealous that you get to stay here, relaxing and eating food brought to you on a tray.”
“My mom won’t bring it on a—”
The front door opens, and Mom trots in, grocery bags hanging from her fingers. A large wooden serving tray is tucked under the crook of her arm. She doesn’t notice us as she disappears around the corner to the kitchen.
“Hey, I’m here!” she calls through the sound of bags being set on the counter.
Nat raises a brow at me, a giggle escaping her lips. “Did you see the tray?” she whispers.
I roll my eyes and poke her side. She laughs.
“We’re right here, Mom,” I call over the couch.
Mom walks around the corner and her eyes find us. “Oh! I didn’t see you there.” She frowns at Nat. “Natalie, dear, aren’t you supposed to be on your way to the airport already? You’re going to be late for your flight.”
“I didn’t want to leave him until you got here. Thanks for coming over to stay for a few days.”
Mom hugs Natalie, and Nat’s shoulders visibly relax at the contact.
Mom steps back. “I’m happy to be here. It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to spoil my boy.”
“Well, don’t spoil him too much,” Nat replies. “I don’t want him expecting any special treatment when I get back.” She turns around and winks at me. I shake my head and smirk, pointing at the front door in a gesture that says get out of here.
“Well, I better get going.” Nat kisses me one more time, and I stop myself from holding her there forever, watching as she picks up her purse from the coffee table. “I’ll see you both soon.”
“Don’t worry about a thing here,” Mom says. “Have fun with your family. And bring me back some of those maple sugar cookies I’ve heard Luke talk about.”
“You got it,” Nat says, turning toward the door with her bags in hand. She opens the door but glances back at me one last time, her shadow spread across the floor as the sun shines through.
We both know she has to go back to Maple Lake, but her time away will be felt like a chasm in the mountains, echoing with silence until she returns to me. Even if her absence only lasts a few days.
After lunch, Mom’s slippers announce her arrival as they scuff against the tile floor. I’m instantly alert, mentally shifting the walls in my mind to prepare for the conversation I imagined weeks ago.
She steps into the living room in a blue tracksuit, the hoodie zipped up, slim and fashionable.
She asks if I want to watch TV, kicking her slippers off and making herself comfortable on the love seat across from me.
She fluffs a yellow throw blanket over her legs and bare feet, then sips from a mug of coffee.
“What do you want to watch?” she asks with a warm smile.
I lean forward, resting my own cup of hot coffee on the low table in the center of the room. My pulse races. “Actually, Mom, I wanted to talk to you about something, if that’s alright?”
She looks up with a questioning gaze. “Oh, okay. What is it?”
“I … um … I want to tell you about why Natalie and I went to Maple Lake this summer.”
She leans back, holding the cup between her hands, nestling into the comfort of the blanket. She looks bright, rested and awake, a stark contrast to the image I hold of her when she wasn’t herself for months at a time.
“Was it not to see her family?” she asks, her thin brows creasing the slightest bit.
Inside, I feel myself becoming small, folding into the child who was afraid to say anything that might trigger her and make her condition worse. “It wasn’t for that, actually.”
She watches me, waiting for the words that I’ve held onto to spill out. The words I’d been wanting to tell her on my last day in Maple Lake.
At my reservation, Mom smiles warmly. “You can tell me anything, Luke. You know that. Don’t be afraid.”
Afraid. I’ve been afraid since I was seven.
My head nods while my throat bobs where the words stick. “Natalie and I were having trouble … so she left me. And her running back to Maple Lake was what brought me there after her.”
My mother’s eyes narrow, and her mouth falls open slightly, revealing her surprise. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t know that.” Her face turns thoughtful. “You’ve both always seemed fine. I had no idea there was marital stress between you two.”
“I didn’t either,” I say, putting my head in my hands.
“I mean, I knew, but I didn’t know. I didn’t realize how serious it was.
I didn’t see the signs that she was pulling away.
I didn’t listen to what she said she needed, even though she told me, and I almost lost her.
” Heat flares on my neck, and I look away.
“She told me again and again, but I didn’t listen.
It was my fault. I pushed her away. I couldn’t give her what she wanted. ” I look up at Mom, meeting her gaze.
“What was it that you couldn’t give her?” Her voice is soft, encouraging me to press on.
I don’t break our gaze. “I couldn’t give her kids.”
Mom’s eyes fill and leak over with tears, a silent understanding.
“Natalie’s wanted to be a mom for so long,” I say, “but I … I was scared.”
She nods as she listens, watching me with the emotion of a mother who knows she’s placed that fear on her own child. But she remains quiet, letting me finish.
“When I saw you, how you were changed—different—after your losses, I swore I wouldn’t let that happen to anyone else I loved.
You weren’t really … here, anymore. I thought I lost you.
” My fingers reach for my cast, running along the top edge, searching for a way to ease the tension building in me.
It takes all the strength I have to talk about this, about my worst days and about hers.
Mom’s chin quivers, and when she finally speaks, it’s with a small voice.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. To teach you to be brave and to love you the right way and …
see you. It was really hard for me to let go—to let the babies go.
I didn’t know why it was happening, and I blamed myself for all of it. ”
I nod, hating the heat behind my eyes and the tears on her face. Hating that I’m making her relive those darker days, casting the shadows over her light.
“But no matter how dark those days were,” she says, “you were always my life, Luke. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but you were always my source of peace—my joy. And I am so very sorry that the darkness in me leaked into you.” Another tear drips down her flushed cheek.
My smile is nothing more than a flat line as I press my lips together, but I pat the couch cushion beside me, motioning for her to sit closer. If I were able to walk better, I’d rush to her myself.
Mom leaves her mug on the coffee table and carries the yellow blanket to the couch, nestling in beside me. I lift my arm over her shoulders, tucking her into my side. She smells like sunscreen and flowers.
“I wasn’t a good mom,” she states, letting out a short breath.
I look down at her. “Mom, you are the best mother I could have ever asked for. I never wanted you to be someone different. I only wanted you to be okay—to be here with me. I don’t blame you for suffering from depression. No one falls into it on purpose.”
“I know, but I should have tried to hide it from you. You were just a kid. I shouldn’t have let you be scared.
I—” Her voice breaks on a teary inhale, and I lean my head against the side of her blonde hair.
When she has her breath back, she says, “I should have done better. I never wanted you to be scared of starting your own family. I want you to have a life you love, not one that you don’t because you have to deal with someone else’s burdens. ”
She looks up at me, her seafoam-green eyes a little red. “I went to therapy,” she states. “That’s what helped. Have you tried to talk to someone about it?”
My eyes bounce between hers, and I nod. “I started seeing someone when I got out of the hospital. Nat’s been driving me to appointments.”
“And the two of you? Have you worked things out?”
A smile twists my lips. “Yeah, we’re on a good path right now.
We were already working things out before the accident.
But now—I think the hardest parts are over.
We’re … repairing.” I hear Nat’s voice telling me about rupture and repair, how the worst part of someone’s story can be the turning point toward something better and stronger.
“I’m glad,” Mom says, a small smile blooming on her face. She looks across the room and rests her head on my shoulder again. “Why didn’t you tell me? About your worries?”
“I wanted to leave the sad version of you in the past,” I murmur. “Didn’t want to bring it up when you were so happy. I thought it would pull you away again.”
Her hand finds mine, the soft touch making me feel like a kid again. She looks up at me. “I’m not going anywhere, Luke. I’m better now. I can’t say enough times how I wish I hadn’t made you feel this way, but I’m glad you have Natalie. And I think you two are going to be okay, too. Just like I am.”
I grin a little. “I think so, too, Mom. I think so, too …”