An apology is on my lips, but I realize it’s wholly unnecessary. Not only are the bird feeders full, several more have been added. Two stick to the window with suction cups, and three more hang from the oak outside the window. It’s like a bird version of the dog party at the end of Go, Dog, Go, one of Jo’s first favorite books. The birds are going to town, flitting and fighting and singing. A total bird party.
Mom beams at me, the smile so worn and familiar that it makes my stomach swoop. I kiss her soft cheek and sit down in the chair next to her. The birds on the window feeders scatter momentarily, then come right back.
“It’s Lindy, Mama.”
She waves a hand. Her nails are painted candy-apple red. “I know my own daughter, silly. It’s fall break—I’ve been expecting you.”
Okay, so it’s my college years. I find that it’s best if I play along. When I try to convince Mama of reality, it only agitates her, which in turn depresses me. If I just exist in her world, whatever that is for the day, we can have pleasant conversations. I can almost pretend things are fine.
It was the right decision not to have her at the wedding. But I was aware of her absence like a throbbing bruise. I can only imagine how today felt for Pat, not having his mom there. I turn her ring on my finger, feeling unworthy of wearing it.
I turn to the window. “Wow, Mama! You’ve expanded the aviary.”
Since Mama got interested in birds, Jo and I have added feeders slowly, and the home put in a nice bird bath in view. We’ve taken to calling it the aviary, though now it truly looks like one.
“Isn’t it lovely? The nice new gardener I hired put them in.”
What she likely means is the maintenance guy, Kevin. This is a few steps up from his normal duties. Maybe I have Lynn Louise to thank. We’re already getting special treatment with Mama’s discounted rate. This is a lovely facility, far out of my price range, and not like the ones constantly being written up in horrifying news articles. If Jo and I ever left Sheet Cake, we’d have to either leave Mama behind, or move her to somewhere with a much lower level of care. I’m not sure I could live with myself either way.
“He also brought me those,” Mama says, pointing to a big bouquet of daisies on the dresser. Her favorite flowers.
“They’re beautiful.”
“He brings new ones every few days,” Mama says. “Anyway. Enough about me! Catch me up on school. Any new boys to tell me about?”
If she only knew.
Well, Mama, I married a man I used to love and still maybe might love just a tiny huge amount, all so I could keep custody of Rachel’s kid. Oh, right—and Rachel had a kid, then ran off and left her with us, and then you came here, and I had to take care of her, and now Rachel wants her back.
Which brings us back to the start: I got married today.
“Aw, sweetie. Come here. Don’t cry.”
I’m crying?
Mama pulls me to her, and I wind my arms around her waist, breathing in the familiar scent of her magnolia lotion. I’m aware of the tears leaking in a steady stream from my eyes, even if I don’t know why they’re falling. And now I’m full-on sobbing, with hiccups and everything.
Mama strokes my hair, and the birds sing and chatter just outside the glass as inside the small room, I allow myself to fall apart.
Why is it easier to do so with the one person who has no understanding of what’s going on?
Or maybe it’s because she’s my mama and always will be my mama, whether she knows what year it is or not.
“There, there,” she coos, “that’s my strong, brave girl. Did someone break your heart?”
That’s a question I can’t answer. My heart feels surprisingly light and hopeful, but hope isn’t something I trust anymore. The pattern of my life seems to be that the moment I find happiness, it gets yanked away. Though it’s the worst possible thing to think about on my wedding day, I just keep wondering when it will end and leave me crushed and alone.