“Okay, Mom. We got to go,” I say, cutting her off mid-sentence. Court has been incessantly checking her phone, and I can tell by the nail biting something has her worried. The trip home isn’t quick, so it’s better to jump on the road sooner rather than later.

From what I can tell there was no awkwardness between mom and Court while I was fixing the pipe leakages, in fact, they seem to have got along way better than I expected.

“Fine, but don’t leave it too long till you come back, and Court, you better be here the next time too.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss your cooking for the world.”

“It’s always the food that brings everyone back,” she states. “Nobody ever mentions my sparkling personality.”

“Oh, yes. There’s definitely that too.” The banter between the two of them is comfortable and hilarious. Not that it’s difficult to get along with my mother, but while Court was freaking out that she’s never had a boyfriend and been to his parents’ place, I was withholding my secret of never bringing a girl home either.

“Next time, we can talk about all that baby stuff you wanted to know.” She winks at Courtney, and every single patch of exposed skin on her body goes up in flames. I know my mom is embarrassing her on purpose, it’s what she does best, and I’m going to run with it. What better way to spend the next three hours than asking Courtney how she feels about kids. It’s definitely not something she’s going to want to discuss, but with Court, I can’t let an opportunity to lay my feelings on the line pass us by. There will be no reason for her to ever say she didn’t know where I stood.

I decide to pounce as soon as the car is in motion and there’s nothing but road behind us.

“I hope everything went okay with my mom while I was fixing stuff around the house, I know she can purposefully say stuff to make shit awkward.”

“We had a few rocky moments,” she admits, “but we survived.”

“Awkward how?” I ask, my tone turning into worry.

“I can’t tell you about secret girl’s talk.”

“You can’t?”

“No, it’s like Fight Club, and everyone knows the first rule of Fight Club,” she says with a smirk.

“Gotcha. So no talking about Fight Club.”

“Exactly.”

“But, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Don’t worry, she didn’t scare me away if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“She obviously didn’t talk about her obsessive need for grandkids then?” I say flippantly. Her face pales and I can’t help but laugh. “I’m joking. Well, not about how much she wants them, but that she would bring it up to you.”

“You both bring up the subject of kids so freely.” The tone of her voice changes the whole mood of the conversation.

“What do you mean bring them up so freely? Are kids a taboo topic that we weren’t aware of?”

“No. Yes. I mean, do you talk about everything with your mom?”

“Define everything?” I question.

“Whether you want kids or not?”

“To clarify, I brought up how badly my mom wants grandkids,” I explain annoyed. “I didn’t say anything about whether I wanted kids or not, and no I don’t talk to my mother about it. She’s just like every other mother. Wanting your kid to have their own kids isn’t something new.”

“But you probably do, right? You’re that guy that wants the perfect wife and two point five children and a white picket fenced house in the suburbs.” The words are coming out of her mouth like insults, and I can’t place where all the hostility is coming from.

With her arms crossed in front of her chest, I take note that she’s gone into defensive mode and she’s gearing for a fight. I look back in my rearview mirror and make the decision to pull over into the breakdown lane. It will probably take us forever to get home, but I’m not about to have a screaming match while doing sixty miles on the highway.

“What are you doing?” she asks with confusion.

“I’m pulling over.”

She looks around, double checking for cars before I pull over. Putting the car in park, I look over and see her fidgeting with her hands in her lap. I clench my fingers around the steering wheel and internally begin to count to ten. Taking a deep and loud breath, I will the anger out of my words and put the sentence together in my head before opening my mouth. “Why do you seem so repulsed that I can want any of those things? And better yet, by the idea of me discussing said things with my mom?”

“That’s not what I meant,” she says, quickly backtracking. Her eagerness to argue, disappearing by the second.

“Well, the floor is yours, feel free to explain.” I’m being a dick, I can hear it in my voice and I’m confident she can see it written all over my face, ignoring the fact that the fight seems to have left her.  

“You’re just so confident all the time, how do you even know you want those things?”

“Let me get this straight. You're irritated because I know what I want?”

“I’m not irritated.”

“You sure sounded like it five minutes ago,” I answer quickly.

“It’s not that, it’s just... I’m jealous.” She hangs her head in defeat. I reach for her chin and lift her head up so she can look at me.

“What’s there to be jealous of?”

She shrugs and pulls away from my touch, and like a vicious cycle, I’m left wondering whether we’re ever going to make it through a day where we don’t take more steps backward then forward. I turn my focus to the road, and decide the quicker we get home the better. With my indicator on, I get ready to merge into traffic when the warmth of her touch on my forearm stops me.

“Wait,” she says, her voice hesitant and shaky.

“You have to get home,” I remind her.

“I do, but I also need to apologize to you. Again.” She looks out the window and mutters under her breath “This is getting so fucking old.” I remain silent while she berates herself, and wait for her to clue me into her thoughts. This is where I usually step in and make excuses. Where I enable her and let her insecurities guide the direction of our relationship. But I can’t do that anymore. So, I wait.

“You’re so put together. You’ve got your whole life mapped out. House. Check. Kids. Check. Job. Check.” As she rattles off a list of what she thinks I want out of life, a wave of tiredness washes over me. I let my head fall back onto the headrest and close my eyes.

“Do you not want to hear what I have to say?” she asks, sounding perturbed.

“You mean do I want to hear you talk about the things I want out of life with such disgust? Not particularly, no.”

“I’m not disgusted, I’m intimidated,” she spits out.

“What?”

“You’re intimidating. You’re so sure about everything and I want that.”

“There’s not some magic trick here, Court. I’ve been where you are. When you don’t know your fucking head from your toes because everything just rolls into one long shit day of responsibilities and disappointment. I know. But I’m not there anymore. Thank fuck I’m not there anymore.” I run my hands through my hair, pulling at the strands in frustration. I turn and look at her, I see the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “I’m sorry that’s where you are because I really don’t want you feeling that way. But we come back here. Every. Fucking. Time. We come back here to the crux of the issue. I want to be here for you. I do. But I don’t know how when you won’t tell me about the shit that weighs you down.”

She wipes her eyes and pulls her cell out of her bag. “I’ve got to tell Evie I’ll be running late.”

“So, that’s all you have to say?”

She ignores me, and I’m grateful. The rage running through my veins right now, has me biting my tongue so hard I can taste blood. I’m a patient man. In everything I do, I do it with rationale and purpose. I try not to act now and think later, it leads to mistakes, regrets and a whole lot of comparisons to my dad that I never wanted to hold. But Courtney makes a life-long habit almost impossible to stick to. She has me questioning everything I’ve worked for. Last night plays on repeat just to remind me why I’m working so fucking hard to have a girl that seems hell-bent on walking away.

I get back onto the highway and just concentrate on the drive. With nothing but road behind me, I let the silence envelop us. If something needs to be said, she can say it, but until then, I’m running on empty.

* * *

“Will it be okay if you drop me off at home?” she asks interrupting the quiet between us. “I can catch an Uber from yours if you can’t.”

I want to bite back that I might be pissed, but I didn’t forget how to be a gentleman. Instead, I nod. “Yeah, that’s no problem.”

“Elliot, I don’t want to part like this. I’m sorry.”

“Court, I don’t need you to apologize. You’ve made it very clear how this is going to roll between us. It seems the only time I can get you to talk is when we’re alone, locked away from the world enjoying one another. Or maybe, that part is a lie and this is the truth? Either way, your message is loud and clear.”

I’m shocked as the words leave my mouth. Am I ending this before it’s even begun?

“So, that’s it?”

“Don’t say it like that.” I shake my head. “Like I haven’t tried.” My eyes flick between her and the road, her head is turned to me and her eyes are confusing as fuck. A mixed palette of emotions, I hate that I can see a slither of hopefulness shining amongst the fear. It makes me weak. It makes me want to wait out the storm and pray she meets me halfway.

“Elliot, I want this. I really do,” she repeats.

“But?”

“Tell me about those days.”

“What days?”

“The ones you mentioned earlier, the days that make you just want to throw the towel in and say fuck this shit.” She places her hand on my thigh and squeezes. “Please,” she pleads. “Tell me how you got from there to here.”

Linking my fingers through hers, I hold on to her tightly. How bad could a trip down memory lane be?

“When I was in high school,” I start. “I decided I would stop being the studious kid everyone knew me as, and I was going to be the bad boy that everyone feared and all the girls wanted. I skipped school that week, got caught and was sent home.” I glance over at her, as she stares at me with such interest. “Now you’ve seen my mom. She’s a cute little thing, and I’ve towered over her for as long as I can remember. And that day I walked through the door thinking, I’ve never been in trouble before, how bad is this going to be? You know? Surely, she’ll cut me some slack because it’s my first time.” I laugh as I remember how furious she was when I got home. “I decided I wasn’t going to bring it up until she did, so I go to the fridge to look for something to eat when she comes up behind me and slams the fridge door.”

“What are you doing?” she asks me, I can already hear the hysteria rising in her voice.

“I’m hungry, I was just getting a snack.”

“Sorry, you’ll have to wait until dinner is ready.”

“Mom, you can’t not feed me. You let me have a snack every day,” I say argumentatively.

“I can do whatever I want and if I don’t want to feed you, I won’t.” My eyes widen in shock, she’s never threatened not to feed me before. She definitely knows about me skipping school.

“You heard?”

“You can bet your ass I heard.” Okay, I’m officially freaking out, who is this woman and where is my mom.

“Mom, I-- ” I attempt to explain what happened when she grabs my shoulder and pushes me toward the dining table.

“Sit,” she orders. I do as she says.

“Now, I don’t have time for many conversations like these, because I’m too busy working so you can have food on the table, a roof over your head, and go to that great school you so kindly skipped today.” She has this vein that pops that protrudes in the middle of her forehead when she’s mad and it’s out in full force and is all I can stare at. She’s really mad. “So I’m going to tell you this once, and you’re going to listen, and you’re going to remember the words that come out of my mouth till the day I die. You got it, Elliot?” She doesn’t even wait for me to respond before she pulls out a chair and sits on it. Now we’re at eye level. “I’m not raising you to be a kid who gets into trouble, makes bad decisions and deals with even worse consequences. It’s that simple. If you want to misbehave and let yourself fall behind in school, you can go and do that under someone else’s roof.”

Shocked at her harsh words, I try to defend myself. “Mom, it was just one time.”

“And one time turns into five, five turns into fifteen, and before I know it, I got myself the makings of a younger version of your father.” We very rarely talk about him, but as soon as I could understand, Mom explained how she met dad, and how he left her. The mere mention of the way he treated her and being associated with him, makes my blood boil. I don’t ever want to hurt her the way he did. “Elliot, honey, I already lived that life once, and I have done everything in my power to make sure you don’t want for anything. I think I’ve done a pretty good job so far don’t you?”

“Yes, Mom.” I lower my head in embarrassment, mad with myself for upsetting her.

“So next time, you want to do something that is going to get you into unnecessary trouble, think of me. Think of how much I love you. Think about this good life that I’m trying to give you, and above all else, think of your future. Think of the man you want to be, and recognize the actions of the man you don’t.”

“Your mom’s one smart woman,” Courtney says. “I can see how that would’ve stayed with you among the years.”

“Her voice rang in my head on repeat. Thinking about the man I wanted to be never left me, So, my bad boy stint lasted a day and I not only went back to being me, I made a promise to myself to never give my mom or anyone else a reason to ever remember me negatively.”

“What do you mean?” she questions.

“Whenever my mom spoke about him, she would get so upset. The bad memories resurfaced and the pain was written all over her face. I never wanted to make anyone feel that way about me,” I explain. “It probably sounds stupid, but to me it makes sense and it’s always been what drives me.”

“Do you think about your dad?”

“I used to when I was younger. Obviously. But it was more curiosity, you know? I never saw the other kids with their dads and think to myself I want that. I would wonder what it would be like, but I’ve always been content with my mom’s presence. She wasn’t just a mom and a dad, she was a whole fucking cheer squad when I needed it.”

We stop at a traffic light and I notice tears running down her face. “Hey, why you crying?”

“I’m just being a girl, crying at the cute mother and son moments in the story,” she says with a half-hearted laugh.

“So, did you look for your dad? I feel like I heard this from Evie,” she says.

“Yeah, a few years back I went on the hunt for him. Against my mom’s wishes, I might add.”

“I can only imagine her reaction when you told her.”

“She seemed as curious as I was, but she was more concerned about him disappointing me. I told her there was nothing to be disappointed about because I didn’t have any expectations. And when the investigator told me he was dead, it was like a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t have to ever think about him and our relationship again.” I think about the relief I felt when I received the phone call with the news, and how it was to only be tainted a few minutes later. “It solidified for me what I had known all along. I wanted to be a better son, a better friend and hopefully one day a better husband and a better father. I wanted all those life experiences, and I was going to do them all right. Kick ass. Take names, and have people actually care whether I was alive or dead.” I feel her squeeze my thigh, and I look down to see her hand still firmly in place, even when I had to move mine to drive. She’s been attentively listening, and I’ve got whiplash from how different the beginning of the drive was to this. My voice is hoarse from talking, and I don’t think I’ve shared this much about myself with anyone, but I can’t seem to stop. “Then came the information about James. I wasted so much time, wondering when would be a good time to meet up with him, that I missed him. And I can’t shake the regret that comes with that no matter what. Things just felt tougher after I found out he committed suicide. Life felt heavier, relationships were too hard to maintain, and I put myself through hell just to feel closer to my brother.”

“And now? Do you still feel that way?” she asks.

Exhausted, I give up the only secret I have left. “Now, I have something else that consumes my mind.”