“Honey, spill.”
I grabbed my mug, leaned a hip against the counter, took a sip and stated, “I don’t want to talk about Max.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to think about Max.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know what to think about him.”
“Okay, you tell me all about Max and I’ll tell you what to think about him.”
“Mom.”
“Nina.”
“Mom,” I said more firmly.
“Nina.” She beat my firm by a mile. “Listen to me, let me explain something to you. You’re my daughter, I love you. I learned a long time ago that I had to let you make your own decisions, your own mistakes and then sit back and watch you learn from them. You’re like me, honey, you don’t learn from people telling you stuff, you learn from doing. But this is one place I want you to listen to me and learn. Don’t make my same mistake. Don’t close yourself off from something that might be good. Learn to take risks again, Neenee Bean.”
I looked out Max’s windows at the vista and I took another sip of coffee.
My mother didn’t open herself up to looking for another man after my father. When she’d found out about three weeks after she had me that he’d cheated on her and then he left her for the other woman then left the other woman and left the country, my mother had been devastated.
And bitter.
He’d been the love of her life, she’d adored him and his betrayal had destroyed her.
It wasn’t until six years ago that she met Steve. Steve, who for the first year she saw all the time but insisted he was her “friend”. Then she gave in and for the next two years she called him her “companion”. Now she called him her husband and she’d never been happier, not ever that I could remember.
“You don’t even know him,” I said softly into the phone, staring at the mountains.
“I know he has an amazing voice.”
Max had an amazing everything pretty much or at least as far as I could tell.
“Yes, well, he does have that.”
“And I know he’s got good enough manners to answer the dratted phone when your mother calls.”
“Mom –”
Her voice got gentle when she finished, “And I know he talks real quiet when he thinks you’re sleeping.”
My stomach melted and my eyes drifted closed.
“Mom,” I whispered.
“Honey, life has enough obstacles planned for you, stop putting up your own and just live it.”
I opened my eyes and blurted for no reason whatsoever, “He built his own house.”
“What?”
“With his own hands.”
“Really?”