“Or anyone else,” she says flatly, calling my bluff.
“You’re on social media...you tell me.”
She stares at me for a long time, eyes burning into the sides of my head.I feel like a little kid again, claiming not to know how the window got broken.
“I think you’re faking it.I just don’t know why,” she finally says.
That makes two of us, is what I want to say, but instead I say, “I love you, Mom.Please don’t worry.”I twist the dial just as The Chicks are crooning the end of “Cowboy Take Me Away.”
My mom falls apart laughing, slapping her knee against the odds of it.I watch as a happy tear rolls down her face, and that’s when I realize I’m smiling too.
***
Home is how I leftit.Still so much to be done, still no time to do it.The yard looks good though, and I make a mental note to call Tim to thank him and see how business is going.
“I’m going to start dinner,” my mom calls from the walkway.
There’s something weird about being back after months away.Like stepping back into an old life that sits at the back of my memory.My room has been untouched since I left.Untouched since middle school, really.I walk over to my bed pushed against the corner, and take a seat.My hand instinctively smooths down the wrinkles I’ve disturbed in Grammy’s quilt.She was so proud when she gave it to me so many Christmases ago.The deep navy stars set atop soft suede browns, reds, and whites.It’s my grab-if-your-house-is-on-fire item.Under my University of Tennessee flag, my guitar stands untouched.I scratch at the shadow of hair that’s sprung up on my cheek during the flight.I think I might just let it grow.Let it all go.I’ve been holding on so tightly to this dream that I forgot why I started it in the first place.I love music.The headlights of a car driving by bounces off my shelf of baseball trophies.Some from Little League, others from high school.Baseball was my life growing up.Then my dad left, and I lost interest.
“Levi, dinner!”The sound of my mom’s voice echoes down the hall.A yawn works its way up and out of my mouth as I come to a stand.
Mom is making quick steps from the kitchen to the dining table.I stop fast at the sight of two tall candles at the center, flames dancing.Between them is a vase of fresh-cut wildflowers.Not the store-bought variety, but from someone’s garden.I look up at my mom as she brings her big salad bowl out and places it on the table.The same one that is usually reserved for the Super Bowl.
“Are we having guests?”I ask, pulling my seat out from the table.She stops and opens her mouth to answer just as the kitchen timer goes off and there’s a knock at the door.I stand begrudgingly, knowing I’m going to be the one to get it.
I walk over and open the door to a man a little bit shorter than me, a fist of flowers in his right hand.He smiles weakly.I have a feeling he wasn’t expecting me either.
“Wrong house.Sorry, buddy.”I slam the door behind me and take a couple strides to the table before another knock.My brows fall heavy into my eyes.
“Levi?I thought you opened the door.Will you please go let Clyde in?
“Clyde?”I repeat back in question, but she ignores me and runs back into the kitchen.Who the heck is Clyde?Why is he here...holding flowers...Oh God, no.
“Levi, door,” Mom says with a little more force.I open it again slowly.The smile on Clyde’s face has flatlined a bit.
“Levi, I gather?”
I hate that he knows my name but I haven’t heard of him.Clyde?What kind of name is that?It’s a dog name, that’s what it is.I nod because I don’t trust myself to open my mouth and my mom’s told me I’m never too old to be smacked.
“Can I come in?”
I step aside, watching how he takes easy steps into the house.My house.He beelines to the kitchen.
“Oh my, are these for me?They’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” I hear him say.Barf.I stand there, looking longingly at my truck.Maybe if I just slip out no one will notice?
“Levi, you’re letting all the bugs in.Come sit.”
I shut the door and walk back to my seat to find it’s been taken.I laugh, but it’s humorless.I stand idly behind Clyde, staring down at his salt-and-pepper hair until my mom clears her throat.
“Levi, come sit by me tonight.”
Clyde glances over his shoulder, smiling.The man is tone-deaf, among other things.I take the seat next to my mom.Her hand knocks into mine, the same movement from the ride over, until we’re hand in hand.
“So, Levi,” he says as he dishes himself some salad before passing it to my mom.“Your mom tells me you’re on a show.Some kind of singing show.”
“That’s right,” I answer, not adding any extra information.The salad bowl comes to me.I take a small spoonful.Dish after dish of different food gets rotated between the three of us like one big happy family.Something’s up and I’m going to find out what it is.
