“I could do pizza delivery one week and smuggle myself inside a suitcase the next.”
It really isn’t funny, but it feels good to laugh. “That’s kind of insane.”
“You don’t have to water it down. It’s completely insane,” he says.
“Is there anywhere else we can go? A private studio in the middle of nowhere? Somewhere no one would find? A retreat of sorts? Could you book it? You could go out in disguise, and I could pick you up and drive us there?”
“We’d still be hiding.”
“I know, but I don’t see another option other than keeping this our secret if we want to continue it. Not a shameful secret, but just something that’s private. For us only,” I say.
I immediately look to my mom for some kind of…something. I know if I ask her what we should do, or what I should do, she’d ask me what I think I should do. She’d ask me how I’m feeling. But I have no idea. It’s too much. A lot. My heart is going to beat out of my chest. The anxiety is starting to set in, curdling my stomach into a painful stone.
“I… Mom, I’m sorry, you have no idea what’s going on.”
She gives me one of thosemomlooks, the kind that says she knows a lot more than I think she knows. I’m her daughter. She’s known me since the day she knew I was there. We might be two separate people, but I’d be naïve to think she has no idea how I feel. She’s probably known since I’ve known. Maybe even before that. It’s not just today since she walked in on us in a very obvious way. I’m talkingyears.
I slap my hands over my face, the nerves crawling up my throat and closing it up until I can’t breathe.
Wilder’s hand sweeps to my back, nestling between my shoulder blades. He rubs small circles there before he cups the back of my neck gently. “We don’t have to decide anything right now. It’s too much for one night.”
I know what my mom thinks. I might even know what she’s going to say. She doesn’t believe in the right person at the wrong time. In her mind, right means checking off every box, and that includes timing. Just because things get hard, even if they look bleak, it doesn’t mean they’re broken. She’s helped so many people repair themselves and mend relationships with family, friends, or a significant other that they thought were beyond repair. She can’t ever talk about her clients, but I know she hasto have helped people in that way because of the things she’s said to me to help me in my own life.
I nearly dropped out after my first year of college because it was just sohard. But she didn’t tell me to work harder. She didn’t give me platitudes or tell me to study more, or to go and get a tutor. I mean, she made a suggestion about getting extra help in math, but the one thing she said that made all the difference was that before I went too far along in my thoughts, assumptions, and plans, I just needed to take a breath.
I need to know if this is one of those situations where a breath is needed.
Mom believes in love, but she’s a realist about it. To her, love is being attracted to personality as well as looks. It’s respect and hard work. It’s the person who sees you for who you absolutely are. You see them too, and together, you work hard to make each other’s dreams a reality. Even if those dreams look different, when it comes right down to it, the core values are the same, and that’s when a relationship can thrive and grow.
I remember that advice way back from the first time I ever had my heart broken, or thought I did, by the asshole who was supposed to take me to prom but ditched at the last second. He’d also been my boyfriend for the past year, and I trusted him. I had feelings invested.
After Mom let me cry it out, we lay in my bed together, and she helped me see that the only thing holding us together was pretty much physical attraction. There was no real intimacy in it. We didn’t want the same things. We didn’t even believe in the same things. It didn’t help make it hurt less at the time, but the next night, I went to prom alone, and I made sure I had a good time.For me.
“Mom, do you think this could work? Is there any world where we can actually make it without hurting each other or anyone else?” I’m not asking for her opinion as a therapist. I’m askingfor her to tell me what she thinks as someone who loves me more than anyone in the world. As my best friend, mentor, and someone I trust implicitly.
I know there’s no real answer to that. Not with a hundred thousand variables in place, but I also know all those variables matter, but they’re not what ultimately decides.
“Life is hard.” She folds her hands in the air, over her plate. “Feelings are hard. Just because the path gets narrow, treacherous, slick, and shitty in one clusterfuck of a storm doesn’t mean you can’t get through to the other side. I’ve seen a lot of people lose their way. I know exactly how it can go wrong, and there are probably still ways I can’t even imagine. But I’ve seen what should have been impossible become possible through sheer determination and hard work alone. I don’t want to harp on communication, but talking to each other and being honest about what you’re feeling is very helpful. Breathe through the worst of it.”
“And touch grass.” I finish with a smile and even a little laugh.
She grins wryly. “Always,alwaystouch grass.”
It’s our inside joke. She tells people to do that all the time without using those words. I get it. It’s important. The healing power of nature, quiet, and breath is vastly underrated.
“If anyone walked in on this dinner, they’d think we’re the weirdest people ever. I’m so sorry we’re in a little bubble.” I look between her and Wilder. He’s watching me cautiously. This is overwhelming for me, but it is for him too. I just love bombed him in the kitchen for shit’s sake. “I’m so up in my head. I’m so freaking in my feelings. I don’t know how to do this.”
Mom sets her hand down on the table and waits for me to take it. I do, grasping tightly. I don’t expect her to make the same offer to Wilder, but she does. He rests his hand on top of hers, and I take his, making us a real little bubble. A freaking campfire circle minus the corny songs.
For the record, corny songs are great.
Mom squeezes my hand. “I love you. I’ll support you in anything you do.” And she will, in her own way, because she believes in freedom of choice and the power of making mistakes. She’s always balanced that out with being protective, guiding me, and having my back.
Wilder strokes his thumb over my knuckles. “I’ll support you in anything you want to do. I’m concerned about you more than anything.”
This is Wilder.
I know he doesn’t love me. My dropping it on him was not a requirement that he say it back. I know he couldn’t, and probably can’t for a good long while, because he hasn’t thought about me that way. You can be close to someone and love them without realizing it. You can be attracted and not even know it until one day, the switch just flips. It’s why so many friends turn into lovers.
