“YES, MOM. HE’S NICE. HE’S more than nice,” I said.
I moved in front of the mirror of my bathroom, holding up a dress, trying to gauge if it was right or not. It felt too formal and extra, when I was simple and plain. I liked being that way, and he must have, too, so why change?
I tossed it to the side with a small huff before going back to the closet. I was beginning to kick myself for not having the usual feminine wardrobe, because I didn’t think cargo pants and Henley shirts were going to cut it in the sexy department.
“Anyway, as I was saying… he passed it off as a casual sit-down saying he had something to show me.”
“I’m sure he does,” she slyly cut in. “They always do.” She was the blunt side of a sword.
My cheeks reddened. “It’s more than that. He’s more than that.” I paused, realizing how deep of a grave I was digging for myself, but not doing a thing to stop. “Which is why I’m currently panicking at my lack of interest in clothing. Why am I panicking? I never panic,” I finished with a groan. It was hopeless. There was nothing in the room that would project the way I felt about having an intimate conversation with the man who had more layers than an onion.
“You really like him, don’t you?” she said, her tone even. I couldn’t tell if the thought excited her or put fear into her heart. Even though she told me I needed to find a man, we both knew she’d never think anyone I brought home was good enough.
No man ever was.
“I do,” I admitted as I pulled out the only other dress I owned.
Blah de blah.
I tossed it to the side, then grabbed my default pair of form-fitting jeans and an off-the-shoulder top. It would have to do.
“Well, hot damn. This is healthy for you.” Her excitement practically thrummed through the phone. I guessed she’d decided she would be happy for me. “You spend so much time running—”
“Working,” I corrected. “My job requires traveling. We’ve been over this a thousand times.”
“Well,” she said as if she had a sudden bad taste in her mouth, “whatever you want to call it. In the end, you hardly ever get to enjoy a social life. And, believe it or not, having a social life is important. Otherwise, you’re already a ghost.”
I slid the pants on, clutching the phone between my shoulder and ear. “Morbid, Mom.” I paused, buttoning them. “Besides, even though everything about him has been nothing short of perfect, I imagine soon I’ll get a peek behind the curtain and he’ll be just another asshole like Oz. And then it will be time to move on.”
The words didn’t feel right coming out. They were rehearsed. My default thoughts about anyone who had an appendage swinging between their legs.
Maybe going there was a bad idea…
“You know, you’ve always been like the tide. Coming and going. Never knowing whether you want to stay on land or live free in the ocean. Dragging every man through your wake. Maybe your nona was right about the roots.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “And why do you have to be so cynical?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I retorted.
“Because it is. If your head is always hung, how will you ever see the rainbows?”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t mind being cynical. Cynical was safe. Cynical was looking both ways before crossing the street. Being cynical meant I’d jumped into the flames and lived to tell the tale.
“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I assume you’re going to stick to your usual grungy attire?”
I stopped in front of the mirror. The pants had a white paint stain on them from last year when I helped on a house for Habitat for Humanity while in between projects, and the top had a small hole in the armpit that I kept forgetting to sew.
“Your judgment is strong.” I let out a sigh big enough to blow the curl off my face.
“And accurate, I’m sure.”
“You can’t shame me when I own who I am,” I fired back as I went to my suitcase and dug around, knowing good and well there wasn’t anything to be found. “Where’s a fairy godmother when you need one?”
“It’s called the mall, and I’m sure you have time to stop by one if you’re that concerned.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t reminded me about how unappealing my attire is.” I plopped down on the edge of the bed.
“Honey, if a man ever makes you feel like you aren’t enough, it’s because he has a little penis and you were better off.”
A smile broke free as I stared at my reflection in the TV. “Did you just quote Nona?”
“Maybe,” she said flippantly, but I knew her better than that.
Even if I was falling on my ass, Nona knew how to make that fall seem purposeful and important. I guessed she’d passed the torch on to my mom. Or maybe Mom finally let a piece of Nona in.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”
Mom and Nona got along as well as two beta fish sharing the same tank. Especially after my father left us. There was a short period of time when we lived with Nona in her camper so Mom could get back on her feet. Although those years with Nona were the times I held closest to my heart, they were also years I wished I could scrub away those awful fights between them from.
Maybe things would have ended up different for me if I could…
Nona was hard on my mom. Never let up with blaming her for dating my dad when she’d told her he wasn’t the right man. Told her she was poisoning my mind by moving us around too much. Told her I needed a mother who taught me how to plant my roots so I could grow.
Sometimes, late at night, I’d wake to Mom crying as quietly as she could on the other side of the small bed we’d shared, and I’d roll over and wrap my arms around her waist. Other times, Mom would scream at Nona for filling my head with dreams of love and happiness, then threaten to never let her see me again. And she’d meant it, because shortly after, she packed our things and told me it was time to move.
I’d begged her not to take me away. Nona was the brightest and best person I’d ever known.
But then again, even light cast shadows.
“Yoga has suited me well,” she said a beat later. “It’s put me in touch with my inner goddess.”
“Inner goddess?” I said with a small giggle. “And since when did you start yoga?”
“Hey… don’t knock it until you try it.” She paused. “I started a while ago. Wanted to make sure I could stick with it before I told you about it. There’s a lot of inner reflection. A lot of… a lot of my past I see clearly now. Mistakes that can’t be undone.”
She was talking about Nona. About the day she left and never looked back. Nona died a few years after we moved. Neither of us had the chance to say goodbye.
“Life is funny that way, you know. We’re born broken, ignorant pieces, waiting for life’s lessons to put us together and make us whole.”
“I guess so,” I said, a small frown to my lips. Wondering what lessons were still in store for me.
She inhaled. “You’ll call me tomorrow, right?” Her voice was neutral again. Enough of the mushy, dark stuff.
“Of course.”
“And… if things take a turn in the romantic department, you’ll be safe?”
I laughed. Mom was an advocate for safe sex. She didn’t want me to end up like her… as she’d so often put it. “How could I not be when every care package you send me is full of condoms?”
“And what about a gift? A bottle of something he likes as a thank you for cooking.”
Shit.
“I know, Mom,” I lied, looking around the room as if a gift would appear. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow to let you know how it goes. Love you. Bye.”
I knew she was smiling on the other end as we hung up.
I STOOD IN FRONT OF the whiskey aisle, stuck in a mental debate. Was he a whiskey man? He had that slow, sweet burn to him. Or could he be a scotch man? Bitter and burning. I didn’t know why I was making such a big deal about it. I could grab a bottle of wine. Everyone liked wine. But what if he didn’t?
Why did it matter?
“Having a tough time, dear?”
“Yeah, do you think a guy would like—” I turned, and my words jammed in my throat.
It was Martha from the diner.
“I thought it was you,” she said with a hearty smile. “I’d spot that wild blonde hair of yours anywhere.” She had eyes that could read right through a person, and a smile that made me feel at home.
We assessed each other for a moment. Well, more like she assessed me. It was the first time we’d been alone together, without Hudson lingering nearby.
Her eyes peered into mine, searching for something I wasn’t sure of. I didn’t waver. Keeping my cool, I met her probing gaze head on until a bright smile overtook her face.
I must have passed.
“I’ve never been one for small talk,” she said, diving right in with her hands on her hips. “It takes up too much time, and the clock is always ticking. Nothing is secret at the diner. We’re a family, and family holds nothing back. Hudson has been through more than a man his age should ever have to go through. And you know what they say… a woman scarred is a woman always suspicious. Well, the same goes for a man.”
Gosh, she was so much like Nona it scared me.
“You strike me as the kind of spirit that likes to fly. Hudson isn’t your run-of-the-mill man. He’s a sensitive soul. But not only that, he’s a reserved, sensitive soul, so I have to ask… what are your intentions?”
I felt my mouth part in shock as her question took me off-guard. Blinking a couple of times, I tried to form words. “Well…” I stopped. Closed my mouth and thought about it, because it wasn’t a question I had even asked myself.
What were my intentions? I wouldn’t be there forever. I never stayed planted in one place for too long. But there was something about him I couldn’t ignore. Like the moon, pulling my unruly tide in.
I met her gaze as the answer materialized. “To help him work through whatever is troubling him because, when I look into his eyes, all I see is pain. And maybe he needs an outsider to get past his walls. Someone who sees through them. Someone’s who’s… who’s been through it.”
“Someone like you?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.
I nodded.
She wore an impressed smile, arms crossed. “You’re direct.”
“I’m honest,” I corrected.
She inhaled, pursing her lips, and then handed me a bottle of brandy. “He likes it on the rocks.”
I took it from her, taken aback. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said as she started past me. She stopped at the end of the aisle, glancing over her shoulder. “And Hartley?”
“Hmm?”
“Be good to his heart.”