To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.
~ Criss Jami
It has been a week since I returned home from the hospital. In that time, my mother has scoured the entire house, done a mountain of laundry I had no idea I even had, and filled my freezer with casseroles, lasagnas and what she calls ‘meal starters,’ which are portions of ground meats that have been precooked, spiced and are ready to use. I’m still very stiff, and my ribs ache when I move too much. The stitches on my back are itchy now, and I find myself eying Walt’s scratching post longingly.
I’ve said nothing to Liam yet, although I’ve thought of little else. We haven’t had time alone, and I doubt we will until my mother leaves. He’s quieter this week, as he has been since his son’s birthday, and I don’t know if this is just one of those times when he has to grieve for a while, or if there is something else. As sure as I am about my feelings for him, I can’t help but be terrified that he’s guessed I’m in love with him, and that instead of this being a cause for happiness, he’s filled with dread, knowing he’s going to have to let me down soon. The possibilities of what might happen and how he may respond keep me awake half the night. It will either be a total rejection or one of the best moments of my life.
I look for clues when he’s here. Signs that maybe he’s feeling the same way I am. But there are no glances filled with meaning. No eye contact held a moment too long. Just normal, thoughtful, warm Liam. My dear friend. And the more I study him, the more I convince myself it was smart not to say anything immediately after the accident.
“Abby, I’m going to take off. It’s almost three.” Liam has poked his head around the corner into the kitchen.
I smile and tilt my head in his direction. “Oh, so soon?”
“Yup.” He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows. “Almost through with the basement. Couple more days, then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“No rush. I like you in my hair.”Dammit, Abby. Pull it together.“I mean, it's fine. Take your time. Or not. Whatever suits you.”
“Okay. Bye now.” He looks thoroughly confused as he turns to leave. Not exactly the hallmark of a man in love.
I hear the front door close, and sit, staring out the kitchen window into the yard. The colors are glorious. The impossibly red maples blend with the brilliant yellow leaves of the birch, reminding me why autumn is my favorite season. The crisp air and the warmth of the sun bring new life to the world just before it falls into a cozy winter slumber.
My mom finally sits down to take a tea break. She pours herself a mug. “Did I tell you that Todd Blackwell got a divorce?”
“A couple of times, yes.” I add a spoonful of honey to my tea and begin to stir it. “Also that he’s a very successful dentist.”
“Just want you to be happy, Abby.”
“I know.” I give her a mischievous grin that shows I don’t even mind her trying. She’s here, and even if she’s pushing the wrong buttons, I know we need this time together. “I am happy.”
“What about Liam? I’ve noticed the way you look at him.”
“What are you …?” My entire face flames and I will it to cool down. As much as I’m on the path to a more honest life, I can’t test that out with my mom. At least not while she’s here and has access to Liam. She’s about as discreet as Eunice driving her Ford Fiesta around town. “We’re just good friends.”
“That’s an excellent place to start if you ask me. He’s a nice-looking fellow. Great father too …”
“I already have a father, thanks.” I take the spoon out of my tea and lick it, which I know will drive my mother nuts. But she’s certainly not trying to avoid irritating me, so fair game in my books.
“So that’s it then?” she huffs. “You’re just going to give up on love?”
“I’m not … yes, Mom. I am.” Walt hops up on my lap and snuggles his forehead to my chin. I can see my mom is trying not to pull a face at having a cat so close to where we eat. I have to give her credit for that.
“You’re never going to get married again?”
“That is correct.”
“Abby, you’re only forty.”
“Forty and a quarter.”
“Is this because of your cheek? Because it honestly doesn’t look that bad, honey. Once the swelling and bruises are gone, you’ll hardly notice it.”
“It’s not because of my cheek, but now that you’ve said that, maybe I should be worried about it.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Mom, I know you want me to be happy, and for now, being happy to be alive is enough.”
“So, you’ll try to find someone in the future, then?”
