"Or you could come with me," I shoot back before I can even fully process it. "Now, I mean. It won't take long."
Brooke grows a slow smile and shrugs. "Yeah, sure. Where to?"
31
Brooke
"Ihope this is okay,"Drew says, taking my hand and walking me down the quiet path. A cool breeze blows past us, and I try not to overthink the chill it sends up my spine. "You don't have to talk or anything."
"It's a little unexpected, but..." I drop my free hand onto the one holding mine. "Definitely okay."
His eyes fill with relief as he smiles softly, leading me further into the cemetery. This isn't a place that I frequent—I'm lucky enough to not have any tombstones to decorate or deceased friends or family to visit. I assumed I'd be majorly uncomfortable—maybe minorly nauseous—but surprisingly, I'm only borderline uneasy. I think the idea of Drew taking me to see his mom is numbing all possible negative emotions. I know how much this means to him. And that in turn, means more to me than I realized.
"Right over here," he says, pointing through the lush scenery toward a site that's well-kept and looks freshly polished. I read the name written across it, Joy Anderson, and my heart-rate picks up. I know I'm not meeting his mother in a traditional sense, but it still feels big—colossal considering our current situation.
As we approach the tombstone, Drew drops my hand, stepping in front of me as he gets closer. "Hey, Mom," he says, touching the marble. All of my nervous energy dissipates as my entire being swells for him. "I brought someone I want you to meet."
He glances over his shoulder at me, and I take in his new look for the hundredth time. He really does look different, but it's not so much the hair that's changed. It's as if the light I see in flickers is slowly coming back to stay. "Hey, uh, hi, Mrs. Anderson," I stutter awkwardly. "I'm Brooke."
Drew sinks into the grass, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning back on his palms. He taps the spot next to him, more relaxed than I've ever seen him. For a fleeting moment, my heart aches. I'll never actually get to meet the woman that he talks about with such reverence—the one who shaped him into who he really is. But then I remind myself… if this is as close as I'll ever get, I can't waste it being inside my head.
I sit beside him, choosing to lean in like he asked me to before—feelings and all this time. If this is hard for me, I can't imagine what it's like for him. The least I can do is give them both my best.
"So, what do you think, Mrs. A?" I ask, my voice stronger now. "Do we like the hair?"
Drew laughs quietly and nonchalantly slides his hand closer to me, curling his pinky over mine. "She'd like it. She liked everything. I don't think I ever heard her criticize anything about anyone."
"My kind of lady," I say, thinking about my own mother's habits. Guilt washes over me as I consider the lingering dread I always have for going to my parents for Family Dinner Night, when Drew has to visit his mom here.
"Brooke's the girl I've been telling you about."
My head whips his way, and he flashes me his boyish grin. "It better all have been good," I grind quietly through my teeth.
He leans into me as if his mom can hear us. "It was… mostly." He slides his vibrating phone from his pocket as I slap his arm before turning back to the stone.
"I've heard a lot about you, too."
Drew taps my shoulder and nods his head toward the open field behind us before standing. I watch him walk away as he brings his phone to his ear, but besides aWhat's up?I can't hear much of anything else.
When I twist back around, I realize I'm alone at the gravesite. It's interesting how even though she's not really here, the same anxiety pools in my belly as it probably would if Drew left the two of us together. It feels like I should keep talking—I probably would if it really was just her and I.
"Drew really misses you," I start, picking at the thick grass by my ankle. "He's a lot like me in the sense that he doesn't come right out and say it, but I can tell. It's in the songs he listens to and the way he talks about you. There's a hole I think he's gotten used to, but the emptiness is still there."
An all too familiar lump begins forming in my throat as I continue. "I'm sure you can tell that he's not necessarily happy. That there's a lot going on right now that's eating at him." The mass grows as I pluck a long blade and begin rolling it between my fingers. "I mean, you're his mom, I'm sure you can tell. But he's really working on it, ya know?" My voice breaks as tears build behind my eyes. "The hair's pretty obvious," I laugh, sniffling back what I can. "But there's other stuff too—the things you can't see." I tear the piece of grass in three pieces before reaching for another one.
"I'm proud of him," I add. "Youshould be proud of him. He's doing everything he can to step out of his comfort zone so he can exist in this world without judgement or retribution for being himself—whatever that looks like." A tear rolls down my cheek that I can no longer hold back. "But I don't have to tell you to celebrate that, do I? You just know. And you'd love him regardless." I wipe away new tears that fall and tuck my hair behind my ear. "Most moms would."
I sit there awhile, so lost in my thoughts and comparisons to my own life that I miss the crunching of footsteps as they approach.
"Sorry, that was Scott, my agent. My—hey." Drew searches my face as I look up at him, my cheeks wet, my makeup most likely starting to run. He kneels down beside me. "Hey, what's wrong?" He pulls me into him,and I seek comfort in his familiar smell and the way I fit perfectly against his chest.
"I'm good," I answer, nuzzling into him.
"Brooke..." Drew places his hands on my shoulders and pulls me away from him. "Talk to me."
I shake my head, wiping at my cheeks. "No, your mom's just..." I bring my eyes back to the light gray marble, her first name sticking out even more to me now. "I bet she was a really good listener."
He glances at the stone as well and smiles. "She was," he says. "With a heart of gold." I nod thoughtfully. "Kind of like someone else I know." I tilt my chin up to him, smiling, and he brushes the corner of my eye with his thumb. "I definitely like you, Brooke Larkin."
