Natalie
This has officially been the week from hell.
It kicked off with Reed and his lousy-lay comments. Then it got worse when Brody told the world-at-large that we’re now an item, which led to some pretty odd behavior from other students on campus. Not that I didn’t enjoy my free caramel mocha, but it’s definitely weird. I avoided Java House on Thursday and Friday, instead bringing a thermos of crappy coffee from home. In no way did it feed the need for my usual morning caffeine fix. It was so terrible, I could barely choke it down.
By the end of the week, I’d started wearing a ballcap low over my eyes so I would be less recognizable. That’s ridiculous, right? I shouldn’t have to live this way. I’m not famous or noteworthy. These people don’t give a crap about me. They care about who I’m dating. Well, let’s be real…fake-dating. I’m fake-dating Brody McKinnon.
Then there’s the situation with my dad…
And his twenty-seven-year-old fiancée.
Ugh.
Come Friday afternoon, I’d reached my limit. Even though I was supposed to meet up with Brody at some off-campus Greek party so we could pretend to be enjoying blissful coupledom, I don’t think I can plaster one more fake smile on my face. My quota for the week has been filled.
I’m done. Fed up.
Is it terrible that I hoped Brody would get mobbed by his adoring public at the party and forget all about me? Yeah, that didn’t happen. Instead, he messaged me, demanding I haul ass over there or he’d come find me.
I chuckle.
Good luck with that, buddy. He can scour campus all he wants. He won’t find me.
Zara dropped me off earlier this afternoon at my mom’s house, which is about forty minutes away from school in a neighboring town. As soon as I’d pushed open the front door, I knew I’d made the right decision in heading home for the weekend. I need some time to chill and regroup.
Because this was an impromptu trip home, Mom wasn’t able to be here when I arrived. She just got home about forty-five minutes ago from showing a house. I offered to make dinner, but she insisted on stopping at the store on the way home from work to pick up the ingredients for stroganoff, which is my favorite.
We’re talking ultimate comfort food. Which is exactly what’s required at a time like this.
Now that she’s home and cooking dinner, we’ve migrated to the kitchen. I sit at the island, watching her slice a chunk of beef into thin strips before dredging them in flour and frying them up in garlic and butter. The aroma is dizzying. God, but I miss Mom’s cooking while I’m at school.
Mom catches me staring and shoots me a smile as she continues prepping dinner. “This is such an unexpected surprise. I’m glad you decided to come home. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve seen you.”
Even though Whitmore isn’t far away, I’m busy with school and Mom is busy building her career. We don’t see each other as often as we’d like. That’s why both of us appreciate this chance to spend some time together.
I nod, feeling the same. It’s good to be here. “I needed a break from campus.”
She flips the meat over in the pan and asks, “Everything okay?”
I shrug. “It’s fine.”
Her brows slide together. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
There’s no way I’m sharing all of this drama with her.
How cringe-worthy would that be?
Remember my ex-boyfriend, Reed? Yeah, well, he decided to announce at a party that I’m a lousy lay.
If I know Mom, she’d probably drive to Whitmore just to wring his neck. She has the tendency to be a bit of a mama bear when she feels someone is attacking me. Plus, she was never very high on him in the first place. I chalked it up to the divorce, which was so fresh at the time, but her instincts were spot-on. More so than mine were. The thought of her confronting Reed is almost enough to make me smile. “Nope. Just wanted to spend a little time with my mom.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. You know how much I love having you around.”
Sometimes I feel guilty for living on campus when Mom is here all by herself. I offered to stay at the house and commute to school, but she was firm in her decision that I needed to live my own life and not worry about her.
But I still worry. I hate the idea of her coming home to an empty house at the end of a long day.
Now feels like a good time to change the subject. “How’s work going?”
She transfers half the meat to a plate in order to fry up the rest. “It’s going really well. I have a couple who is going to make an offer on their first home tomorrow, so that’s exciting. I need to meet them at the property at ten so they can take one more look around and then we’re going to write up the offer.” She glances at me. “Maybe after that we can go out for lunch?”
I nod and take a sip of my water. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”
She smiles. “Great.”
As my mom and I continue chatting, all of the tension that had been filling me drains from my body. My shoulders no longer feel like they’re up around my ears. It only makes me realize how much stress I’ve been holding inside.
I’m not sure if I can deal with another week of feeling like I’m living under a microscope. How long do I have to wait until I’m able to extract myself from this relationship? A week? Two? More?
Oh, God…
That sounds excruciating.
“Are you sure nothing’s going on? Because I get the feeling you’re not telling me something.” She waves the kitchen tongs in my direction. “Your forehead is all scrunched up.”
It takes some effort to smooth out my features.
It shouldn’t surprise me that she’s picking up on my mood. She’s always had some kind of weird parental radar where I’m concerned. It was frustratingly annoying when I was a teenager and trying to slip things past her.
Which, trust me, didn’t happen very often.
As tempted as I am to spill my guts, my recent developments aren’t something I can share with her. “Nope. It’s all good.”
Hands going to her hips, she pins me in place with her gaze until I squirm on my stool. “Natalie Marie, I know when something’s bothering you. Do us both a favor and spit it out.”
In this kind of situation, deflection can be your friend. “Why do you think something’s going on?”
She tilts her head and studies me for a moment. “Because I know you and can see it in your face. You looked stressed. And you’re quieter than usual, more introspective. You know I hate when you keep things from me.” She shoots me a look. “It makes me worry more than I probably should. So how about you just put me out of my misery and tell me what’s going on?”
Now that the stroganoff is simmering on the stove, she takes a seat next to me. Her gaze combs over me with even more intensity. It won’t take much prodding for her to break me.
When I don’t respond, she asks, “Does this have anything to do with the dinner you and your dad had a couple of days ago?”
That’s not a situation I want to discuss with her. Mom is still in a fragile state. In less than a year, her entire world has been turned upside down. Telling her about Dad’s engagement will only hurt her, and I don’t want to do that.
I focus my attention on a swirl of color in the tan granite and mumble, “No, dinner was fine.”
“Really?”
I shrug and keep it vague. “Yep.”
She sighs. “Natalie, you can be truthful with me.”
My eyes dart to her, and she arches a brow. Not only does she sound skeptical, her face is full of it. Like she doesn’t believe one word coming out of my mouth. And I hate that. Because I’m an only child, Mom and I have always been close.
“I am.”
Almost gently she says, “Your dad called me yesterday and told me about his engagement.”
My eyes widen. “He did?” I’m so shocked by this information that I feel like I’m going to fall right off my stool. I had no idea they were still in contact.
She nods. “He said you were pretty upset about it. That you walked out of the restaurant.”
The air hisses from my lungs. “You guys aren’t even divorced yet and he’s already asking someone else to marry him?” Even thinking about it pisses me off. “Who does that?”
She reaches over and rubs my arm. “The paperwork has been filed, Natalie. It’s going to happen, and you need to make your peace with it.”
This conversation hurts my heart. It also strikes me as odd that I’m more upset about their divorce than either one of my parents are. I was afraid that Mom would be devastated when she found out about the engagement. I take a closer look at her. She certainly doesn’t seem upset.
“I just didn’t expect him to move on so quickly.” My lip curls with disgust. “And with her, no less.”
“I know. And I understand you’re still hurt and angry. But this is what your father wants.” She pulls her hand away from me and folds both of them in her lap before sitting up straighter. “I don’t want to be with a man who doesn’t want to be married to me.”
“Mom…”
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “I really am. I found a career that I enjoy and I’m taking better care of myself. I haven’t done that for a long time. And,” she pauses, “I’ve started dating again.”
I blink, shocked by her announcement.
“You’re dating?” I wasn’t expecting this at all. Of course, I want her to be happy. I don’t want her sitting home alone on a Friday night, drowning her sorrows in a bottle of pinot grigio. At some point, I fully expected her to get back out there again.
Just not yet.
She nods. A smile simmers on her lips. “In fact, I had plans to go out tonight.”
“You cancelled your date? Why?”
“I’d rather spend time with you. I thought we could rent a movie, maybe do a little spa night.” She wiggles her brows. “I have a new charcoal face mask I want to try out. We can do mani pedis on each other. All the stuff we used to do.”
“That sounds great, Mom.” I chew my lower lip, feeling guilty that I’m getting in the way of her budding social life. When I decided to come home, it never occurred to me that she might have plans. I run a hand over my face. I’m not ready for this. Dad is engaged and Mom is dating. “I don’t want you cancelling your date for me. We can always watch a movie and do a spa night tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind.” Growing more serious, she says, “You come first. Always.”
One side of my mouth hitches. She doesn’t have to tell me that. “I know. But still, don’t cancel your date. I’m pretty tired and was planning to hit the sack early.”
Uncertainty flickers across her face. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Reaching over, I give her fingers a little squeeze and search her face. “You seem a lot more Zen. I was afraid to tell you about Dad and Bridgette. I was worried that it might push you over the edge.”
Like it did me.
Her expression turns thoughtful. “I haven’t mentioned it before, but I’ve been working with a therapist for about a month, and it’s really helped me to see things with more clarity. Our marriage didn’t just fall apart overnight. It had been slowly eroding for years, and I chose not to repair it.” She searches my eyes and adds, “He may have been the one who walked away, but I’m not sure I blame him for that anymore. I think he did us both a favor.”
Her admission catches me completely off guard. I’ve always blamed my father for leaving. Not once did I ever think she brought this on. He fell in love with someone else and left us. I’m happy for her and glad she’s moving on, but I’m not at that point yet.
And I’m not sure when I’ll get there either.
“I’ve also started practicing yoga and meditation.”
When I just stare, she cracks a smile. I’m having a difficult time imagining her meditating. Or doing the downward dog.
“In fact, there’s a seven o’clock class tomorrow morning.” Her smile widens. “You’re welcome to join me.”
“That sounds interesting, but I’m going to take a hard pass on that. I plan on sleeping in until at least ten.”
She shrugs. “Maybe another time.”
“Definitely.” I’ve avoided yoga like the plague. I like high-energy cardio like kickboxing and Zumba. The thought of sitting quietly and holding poses doesn’t appeal to me. Although, for Mom, I’d give it a try.
“You know, I wouldn’t have thought that yoga and something as simple as meditation could help so much, but it does. I feel so much better when I’m finished. More centered. Like I’m letting go of all the anger and sadness that has been weighing me down and focusing on the future and all the positives in my life.”
I blink. This woman is seriously starting to scare me. “You sound like a hippie.”
Not taking offense, she chuckles. “I’m starting to think that hippies might be onto something. What I’ve learned through this experience is that you can’t hold onto anger. It’ll eat you alive if you do.”
My mom is blowing my mind with all this insight, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Both of my parents are morphing into people I no longer recognize.
“I know you’re angry with your father, but he loves you. Even though a lot in our lives has changed, that’s one thing that never will. Don’t cling to the past, Natalie. Nothing good ever comes from it.”
I glance down again at the swirling pattern in the granite countertop and sigh. “I don’t know, Mom.” When she opens her mouth to argue, I cut her off. “I’ll give it some thought.” Maybe.
“Good. I hate to see you so upset.” Her eyes search mine. “Are you sure you don’t want me to change my plans? I don’t mind. I’m totally up for a girls’ night.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. Maybe some time alone to think about everything will do me some good.”
“It certainly can’t hurt.”
Thirty minutes later, we’ve finished dinner and are cleaning up the kitchen when the doorbell rings.
“Why don’t you get that while I load up the dishwasher,” Mom says.
I pad on stocking feet to the entryway and open the front door.
My eyes widen at the sight that greets me. “What are you doing here?”