“Something with action.” If he wants a distraction, action will give him the reprieve he wants. Drama would pull him further in. RomCom would toy with his heavy heartstrings.
“How about a good old ‘I’ll be back’ marathon?” he asks, doing his best impersonation of Arnold Schwarzenegger.
I snigger. “Sure.”
He clicks a few buttons, then sets the remote on the floor as the movie starts. “I smell popcorn,” he says and twists his head to look out the door.
Alana joins us with a bowl of popcorn and glasses of lemonade on a TV tray, setting it down between the sofa and the recliner next to us. She changed into a large, worn t-shirt and flannel pants.
“You didn’t have to do that, Mom.”
“I wanted popcorn. If you two want some, help yourself,” she says, settling into the recliner.
“Thanks, Alana.”
“You’re welcome, honey. Ooh, Arnold!”
I know she’ll wait to cry again behind closed doors. Same with Jason. I know they need this though. It’s not the same, but not so long ago my life was one big train that ran into another one.
Sometimes, stepping away from the train wreck you’ve been dealing with all day keeps you from shattering. Dipping into bits of normalcy so you don’t get lost in the wreckage. Accepting the light people offer to keep darkness from taking over. Allowing you to forget, briefly, how your life was just smashed into smithereens.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
We fall asleep watching movies and move to Jason’s room upon waking in the middle of the night, leaving the door open.
The smoky aroma of cooking bacon rouses me and taunts my growling stomach.
My arm is draped over Jason’s chest as he lies on his back. He strokes my face without opening his eyes.
“Have you been awake long?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because I was feeling peaceful and happy and I knew it wouldn’t last once you were awake. It would mean yesterday was real.”
“I’m sorry, J.” I tip my head up. “I wish I could take the pain away for you.”
He locks onto my gaze. “You make it easier to handle.”
“Breakfast is ready,” Alana says from the door.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Thanks, Alana.” I stretch and pull the blanket off.
We sit at the dining room table with Alana eating breakfast. “Sara, I talked to Rose. She’s going to be here soon and is bringing you a change of clothes and your toothbrush. You can shower here if you want.”
“Do you need me to help with anything?” I ask.
“No, honey. Rose and Shelly are going to help me. Mike and I did all the planning the first time around. It’s the execution of it now. You two go do what you want today, but weekly cookout is at the Riven’s tonight.”
“Do you want to go to the lake?” he asks me.
“Fishing?”
“Picnic.” He grins.
“Okay.”
“I’ll make you guys something,” Alana offers.
“I’ll do it while Sara is in the shower, Mom,” Jason says.
Papers are spread across the dining room table when I join Mom and Alana after my shower.
“Thanks again, Mom,” I say, taking the seat next to her.
“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
“And sorry I didn’t call.”
“Sara, we’ve talked about this. You’re an adult. I’m not going tell you what you can and can’t do. And don’t try to measure your relationship against everyone else’s. It will never be the same.”
“Amen,” Alana adds.
“Nothing happened,” I say, folding my arms on the table.
“I know,” Mom says. “Alana said his door was open. Did you want something to happen?”
“Hi, Rose,” Jason says, kissing us on our cheeks in turn, unaware of the conversation he walked in on. “Are you ready?” he asks me.
“Can I have a minute or ten with Mom?”
He eyes me with curiosity. “I’ll load the car and wait for you outside.” He grabs the cooler in the kitchen and heads out the front door.
I look back at Mom. “If I go by what I feel in the moment, yes, part of me does. ”
“Do what you feel is right for you. We had the talk long before you ever came to live with us.”
“I just don’t know sometimes, Mom. My body does crazy things when we’re together and I have no idea what it is.”
“Sweetie, why didn’t you say anything?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“It’s perfectly natural,” she assures me. “It’s your hormones responding to Jason with desire.”
“That explains it. Doesn’t explain seeing Simon’s face.”
“That would be the trauma,” Alana clarifies.
I always forget she knows more than she lets on because of her work. She never uses her career to preach to