I kissed her twice on the cheek and she let me go, running her fingertips under her eyes to catch the tears.
“Hey,” I said again. “Don’t worry, okay? You’re going to do great.”
She nodded, sniffed, and smiled. “You are too.”
“Me?” I shook my head. “You know me. Not a lot going on.”
“Maybe there should be. I want you to be happy, okay, Mom?”
“Oh, honey. I am.” But that was an automatic response, and my kid wasn’t a kid anymore.
Caitlin huffed. “I know. But . . . I mean really happy. I’m not stupid, you know. I know you gave up a lot for me. All my life.”
“That’s what moms do, you know.” I reached out and tweaked her ponytail, tried to sound teasing. “Put their kids first. It’s part of the job.”
But she wouldn’t be distracted. “Mom. I want you to put you first now. And if that’s selling the house and moving to the city, then that’s good. But . . .” She took a deep breath, her expression uncertain. “But I know you’ve been happy lately. Happier than I’ve seen you in, like, ever. Just . . . maybe think about that, okay?”
I didn’t want to think about that. In fact, thinking about that was the last thing I wanted to do. Because she was right. I had been happy. And then I’d thrown it away because I’d gotten too scared to let it be real. But I forced a smile, made it look casual. “I will, baby. I promise.”
One last hug goodbye and I left her to it. I made it all the way back to the car before the tears started to fall, and I swiped at them as I fired up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. No one needed to see this. I needed to hold it together until I was home.
The house was empty, and when I turned off the engine, safe in the garage, I laid my head on the steering wheel and cried. And it was a good one—one of those long, hard cries that left you with eye makeup all over your face, a headache, and dehydration. When it was done I picked up my phone. My thumb automatically scrolled to Mitch’s name, but my brain kicked in before I could tap on it. The greatest comfort I could think of was his arms around me. It had only been a couple of weeks, but I already missed the way he made me feel whole.
But I didn’t have the right to that anymore. It didn’t matter how much I missed him; I shouldn’t look backwards. Caitlin was starting the next chapter of her life and now it was time for me to do the same.
Instead I flicked to Emily’s name and hit the Call button.
“Hey!” Her voice was cheerful, when I wondered if I would ever smile again. “Everything go okay with Caitlin?”
“Yeah. I just got home.” I cleared my throat hard, but my voice was rough and there was no fooling my younger sister.
“Hey. Don’t worry, she’s gonna do great. She’s eighteen—all grown up now.”
“Not till next week.” A fresh sob escaped from my throat. “I’m going to miss her birthday. I’m going to miss all her birthdays from here on out, aren’t I?” That revelation was a fresh stab to my heart. This whole empty nest thing was overrated as hell.
“Okay. Stay right there. I’m ordering a pizza now, and I’ve been saving a bottle of wine for this very occasion. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Shut the hell up. Of course I do. Do you want me to invite Stacey over too? She should be getting home from Faire right about now.”
“No . . .” But I regretted the word as soon as I said it. I was used to saying no, to not wanting to get people involved in my business, in my emotions. But Stacey wasn’t just “people.” She was a friend. A good one. She was optimism personified, and a hug from her was like serotonin.
Besides, hiding my feelings from my friends had become overrated too. That was how I’d lost Mitch, wasn’t it? Maybe it was a habit I should let go.
So I took a deep, shaking breath. “Yeah. See if Stacey wants to come.”
“You got it. Now, sit tight.” She hung up before I could protest further. I stared straight ahead through my windshield at the back wall of my garage. All my emotions had been cried away and all I felt was numb. All those years of my life I’d put aside to raise Caitlin, and now I was alone. The kind of alone that wine and pizza and girl time wasn’t going to fix. But it was nice of Emily to try.
Eventually, I dragged myself into the house, taking the remains of my makeup off before Emily saw the ridiculous mascara tracks on my cheeks. I’d wallow with her and Stacey tonight. But tomorrow I needed to get back to work. I had a project to finish, and a house to get on the market.
* * *
? ? ?
I was busy for a few weekends, but before I knew it, the day had arrived. The day I’d been working toward all summer, not to mention the better part of my adult life.
My nest was empty.
The house was done.
I sat at the dining room table on a Saturday morning in late September, sipping from a mug of coffee in my empty house. Everything was so quiet. Even when Caitlin had been out of the house, her presence had still been here, in a backpack she left on the couch or some books on the table. But now even that was gone, and for the first time in my life I truly lived alone. Something I’d craved for years.
I hated it.
It was the house, I told myself. All this time spent painting the walls in neutral colors, replacing carpets and cabinet fronts, had transformed the inside to a place that I barely recognized. All those memories my daughter and I had made in this house, gone. Which had been the point, after all—paint over the memories, paint over the personality, make the whole place a blank slate for the next family to move in. They could make new memories here, while I started over somewhere else.
But this blank slate already had new memories imprinted on it. The living room walls reminded me of that week in June when Mitch and I had done all that painting together. You’ve got me now, he’d said as he’d fetched the ladder from the garage early in the day, and dinner from the Thai place that night. Superhero movies and sex on my living room floor. The Eggshell paint made me remember how I’d justified it to Mitch: fine, I’d said. It’s fine. I’d sounded so defeated then. But now when I looked at these walls, I saw myself looking up that ladder, watching Mitch cut in the top edges near the ceiling. He was laughing at something he’d said—he always laughed the loudest at his own jokes—and his merriment had made me laugh more than the joke itself.
I picked up my mug of coffee and strolled to the back of the house. Past Caitlin’s room, where the rest of her childhood was neatly put away. The guest room was anonymous again—I’d thought of it as Emily’s room for so long, but now it could be anyone’s. My running medals had stayed packed away.
But that room, that hallway . . . when I closed my eyes I saw Mitch helping me heft lengths of rolled-up carpet into giant garbage bags. I remembered waiting for someone in the neighborhood to call the HOA to report me for being a serial killer. I smiled now at the memory and went back to the kitchen to refill my coffee.
I wasn’t intending to text Mitch just then. But this house was so quiet and so empty, and I missed the way he took up space in my life. Before I could think about it my phone was in my hand and I was tapping out a text. Hi. Thank you again for helping me paint. The place really does look great. I’d been so caught up in memories of the summer that my brain had been back there, and it wasn’t until I hit Send that I remembered that this wasn’t something I got to do. He wasn’t a part of my life anymore, and I wasn’t a part of his.