Pretty Sweet - Christina Lee Page 0,94
need you to hug me instead of managing me.” That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Mom needed control. She felt like if she made the rules, if she didn’t show her affection, her love, it would hurt less if she was left behind, the way her family had left her, the way she felt like my dad had too. And maybe the way she felt like I’d left her when I came to Portland.
When Mom wrapped her arms around me, when she pulled me tighter against her, I held on with everything inside me. Held on for all the years I’d lacked her touch, that I’d felt alone or like I was weak for needing this.
Eventually, I led her to the couch, where we sat and talked. About Dad, about her, about me and who I was. We talked more about Colton too.
“Your makeup is running, but I bet it looked pretty when you did it,” she said after a while.
“Thanks. I’m not that good, but I’m getting better. I want to…I want to enroll in cosmetology school in the fall.”
“Okay. Let me—”
“No. Just me, Mom. I can do this on my own.” It would take some getting used to for both of us, but I was determined to do this. To make my own choices and do them on my own. “I’m also going to pick up some more hours at the Underground, or maybe get another job instead.”
“But that bar—”
“Is a bar I enjoy.”
She nodded again. “I’m trying, Seth.”
“I know.” I curled up next to her, rested my head on her shoulder, and she wrapped an arm around me, held me for the first time since Dad’s funeral. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“I, um…there’s a guy, and I…I’m in love with him. We got into an argument tonight. I don’t really want to go into detail about that, but I’d like to tell you about him.”
She kissed the top of my head, seemed to hesitate, then, “First tell me what he looks like?”
I smiled. It wasn’t perfect. We had a long way to go—I had a long way to go too—but it was a start.
36
Jake
“Honey?” Mom hesitated at the kitchen door before finally padding into the living room. I didn’t blame her for treating me with kid gloves. I probably looked exactly like the wreck I currently was. It was around noon on Monday. I hadn’t showered or shaved, preferring to hole up in my house, trying to get my head together and my emotions in check.
“Hey, Ma.” I tried to look more presentable by smoothing out the blanket I was currently wrapped in like a burrito. I’d barely slept for more than two hours straight since Saturday because every time I closed my eyes, I was bombarded by memories that cut too deep. Memories I hadn’t thought about since childhood.
“I was worried about you…” She sat down next to me on the couch. The television was turned to some random show I didn’t care about, only that it provided the white noise I desperately needed. Sometimes the silence was deafening, but I hadn’t slowed down long enough to notice since Mom left. “…the way you sounded on the phone.”
“Sorry to worry you,” I managed to croak out. I nearly winced because it was tough to show anyone—let alone my mom, whom I always wanted to be strong for—this vulnerable side of myself, but I didn’t have it in me to put up a front. Not now. Maybe not even anymore.
“Are you okay?”
“I will be,” I replied, echoing one of the texts I’d traded with Seth yesterday.
I’m sorry I ran out on you. I was embarrassed by the way I reacted and about disappointing you.
Thanks for apologizing. Things right now are complicated. My mom was waiting at my place when I got home.
You’re kidding! You weren’t expecting her, were you?
Not at all! But…we’ve been talking about everything…and I still have a lot to work through. I need a little space.
Ditto. I get it. I hope you’re all right.
I will be.
And fuck if it didn’t feel like goodbye. How could things go so terribly wrong when it had all felt so right?
“Carpet picnic?” Mom thrust a bag toward me from our favorite deli. She grabbed the other afghan from the couch, laid it out, then sank down on the floor. “Join me?”
And there were those memories flooding my brain again. I felt like I was ten years old, hiding out in my room with my mom while my dad sobered up.