One Golden Summer(94)

Mom laughs at the surprise on my face.

“What, can’t a sixty-year-old divorcée believe in romance?”

“Is that what you’re looking for out west? Love?”

“I’m looking for a new beginning. It’s not easy being alone after all these years. To go from having a big family under one roof to just me…well, I didn’t like it. If I could have kept you all at home with me, I would have.”

I blink at her. “Really? You always seemed so stressed.”

She laughs. “I was! But I felt like I had a purpose. I felt needed. Nothing made me happier than when we were all together. The Christmas mornings. The dinners when your dad was home early enough to eat with us. Those vacations. Remember Florida?”

“The twins weren’t even potty-trained yet.” They screamed the entire plane ride, and threw a tantrum at every shop, every restaurant.

My mom smiles at the memory. “You and Heather became a little duo that trip.”

My parents had rented a house with a pool, and she and I spent a lot of time underwater, escaping their noise, thumbing through magazines on lounge chairs when they napped. Heather let me borrow her lip gloss. I was elated that my big sister had deemed me cool enough to hang out with.

“I was happy back then,” my mom says. “It was madness, Alice. But it was a beautiful madness.” She sighs. “But this city makes me feel caught in the past. I need some time away to get unstuck. To discover who I am when I’m not a mother or a wife. It won’t be forever.”

“Good,” I tell her. “I still need you. I can’t believe you all showed up like that. I can’t believe you flew across the country for me.”

“Really?” She tilts her head. “You know, you were such an independent child. I was so busy with the twins and putting out Heather’s fires, and when I think back, I know I missed when you needed extra support.” She reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. “I see the incredible woman you’ve become, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need help. I’ll always be here for you, Alice. I will always show up for my daughter.”

“Okay,” I whisper, my throat thick. I didn’t know how much I needed her to say it.

She squeezes my hand and then straightens. “You work so much, and I know you like your space. I try not to bother you. The last thing I want is to be a burden to my children.”

I study my mom. I didn’t know she felt that way—the way I have for so long, allergic to being an imposition. We text more than we talk these days. I thought it was because she was busy with her new life out west, not because she thought I was busy with mine.

“You’re never a burden, Mom,” I say. “You can ask us to show up, too. You can always call me.”

She waves her hand in the air. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

That sounds like something I’d say, too.

“But you don’t always have to. I’m here.”

She smiles. “I know you are.”





48


Sunday, September 7

13 Days Since Coming Home

Something changes the day after I cry into my cake with Mom. It happens when I’m swimming, like an epiphany. I’m doing laps, and instead of telling myself that I’m okay, I tell myself that I will be okay. Maybe not today, but I’ll get there. I repeat it in my head, over and over.

I’m in the changing room, about to dry my hair, a process that takes a good thirty minutes, when I pause. I hate the blow-dryer. I despise the straightener. I’d rather put my time to better use. I step into the late summer sun with my hair damp, curls already springing up at the nape of my neck.

Things I want begin to fall into my mind, like a drizzle that becomes a downpour. I want to get a comfy couch and dining chairs that I like, and then I want to have my friends over for dinner. I want more time with my niece and more sloppy nights with my family. I don’t want to run anymore; I only want to swim. I want to visit my mom in BC again. I want to do more sewing projects with Nan. I want to work hard, but I want more fun. More mess. More people I love.

What I want when it comes to Charlie is less clear. I want him back in my life. I want to never talk to him again.

I get my film developed, and see that look in his eyes, over and over and over. I meet Percy at the pool in mid-September and we go for brunch afterward. I tell her I feel certain Charlie felt something for me beyond sex and friendship. She says she thinks so, too. She tells me to unblock his number, to give him a call. And I almost do. I want to tell him how mad I am. I want to compose a powerful speech, one that encapsulates how shattered I feel. I want to scream it into his voicemail so he can listen to it over and over. But whenever I try to figure out what to say, I start with “I’m so mad at you,” and what comes next is “I miss you.”

I throw away Trevor’s box of things. I host a small dinner party. I order takeout instead of fussing like I used to. And I don’t mind cleaning up by myself when I kick everyone out at one in the morning. I like it when my home is loud and full of people, but I like it when it’s quiet and just me, too.

I have Bennett come for a sleepover. I bring Nan to her first dance class since having surgery. She’s almost completely healed, and when “Dancing Queen” begins to play, we laugh so hard we both have to sit on the floor.