I keep trying to remind myself it’s temporary. That she’s going to leave. That this can’t be more than it is and I’m not built that way. When I fall, I fall hard.
But the longer I sit beside her, the more I know I’m lying.
I didn’t move her in because it was practical. I can say it had everything to do with logistics and physical therapy all I want, but it’s becoming harder to ignore that I offered her the guest room because I like the way I feel when I’m with her.
Because from the moment I met her, something inside meknewshe was special.
“Nash?” Mom asks during a lull. “Come help me in the kitchen a moment.”
I stand and follow her inside, the screen door creaking shut behind us. The cool air is welcome, thick with the scent of dinner and the familiarity of home. I breathe in deep, hoping it settles something inside me.
“All right. Talk to me,” Mom says once the door shuts behind us. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on,” I murmur, rubbing a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t lie to your momma, son.” She takes my hand in hers. “I see what you’re feeling for that girl. Anyone could. And I can see it’s doing a number on your head.”
I flare my hands in a helpless gesture.
“If it helps, it’s just as clear she feels it too. I’m not sure why you’re fighting so hard.”
“I don’t do casual, Mom. And Jadelyn made it particularly clear that I can’t do committed either. My job?—”
“Is demanding. Yes. And important. And I’m proud of you. But it’s also been bleeding the light out of you for years now. You’re harsher. You don’t smile as much. You’ve stopped talking about the things you love.”
“I love my job. I talk about that.”
“You do talk about it. Mostly to complain.” Mom smiles gently. “I don’t think you love it as much as you think you do.”
“I love helping people. I don’t love the system. But what else am I supposed to do?” I pace to the sink and clutch the edge of the counter, head bowed, shoulders slumped under the weight of the whole damn world.
I sacrificed a marriage for that job.
I’m good at my job.
“This is too easy a trap to fall into. There is more to life than work and you know it. I can’t stand by and watch my son harden until he breaks.” Mom sighs, then softens, placing her hand on mine. I meet her gaze, angry, desperate for a solution that doesn’t exist.
“I ask again, what am I supposed to do? Quit my job because it’s not perfect? Fall for the girl whose real life is on the other side of the country?”
“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord…” Mom begins, quoting one of her favorite Bible verses, a habit I’ve never once found helpful.
I grimace and pace to the other end of the kitchen. “That’s not an answer and it doesn’t help. It just pisses meoff.”
“I’m just saying, have faith, Nash.” Mom holds out her hands, pleading me to believe something I simply can’t. “Trust the process. And it wouldn’t hurt you to pray on it.”
“Have faith. Trust the process. Roll with it.” I shake my head. “I’ve heard all that before, Ibelievedit all before, and look where it got me. Losing Jadelyn?—”
“Was awful. I know. But son…” Mom takes both my hands in hers, meeting my anger with gentleness. “You’re still in the middle of the process. Jadelyn was part of his plan for you, and so is Lucy. Maybe she’s only part of it or maybe she’s the fulfillment. Who are we to know? But if you pull so far inward to protect yourself that you never take a chance on anything, you’re looking at a very long, very quiet life and you deserve better than that.”
I swallow hard. Nod once.
An excited shriek from the patio cuts through the air.
“I got the job!”
Mom and I exchange a glance. “You good?” she asks.
“I’m good. I hear what you’re saying, Mom.” I scrub a hand over my mouth. “I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I hear it.”
