“He’s an only child.”
“Parents?”
“His dad left about ten years ago. Mom’s still around.”
“He doesn’t live with her, though, right?”
“No. He lives in an apartment in Oceanside.”
“And where’s his mother?”
“She’s in Floral Park.”
“Does he speak highly of her?” Mom asked. “Like, respectful?”
“Yeah. I don’t think they have much in common, but it’s obvious he cares about her.”
“You know they say you need to watch how a man treats his mother—because that’s how he’ll treat his wife.”
“Wife! Jeez, Mom. A little soon for that, don’t you think?”
She shrugged. “You never know, Pretty Girl. There are stranger love stories.”
“Okay there, Little Miss Twenty Questions. Can I take a turn?”
“Sure. Have at it,” she said. “I’m an open book.”
“How come you never had any boyfriends when I was growing up?”
“What makes you think that?” she asked.
I raised my eyebrows. “Well, no one serious enough to bring home.”
“You’re right.”
“Why not?” I wondered. “You’re so full of life, so talented, so much fun. I bet men fell all over you.”
“Well, I mean, naturally,” she smirked. “Where else would you have gotten it from?” We laughed, and she took a sip of her mudslide.
“So then?”
Mom quieted, and the light from the horizon washed her face in hues of gold and orange. Her hair, freely flowing in the breeze, was warm bronze, and her lips were painted rose. The white robe brought out the glow of her tan, and I couldn’t help but think how healthy she looked. Her blue eyes were trained on some spot way out in the ocean. She was pensive, relaxed. Beautiful. I wanted to remember her exactly this way.
“Sweetheart, I can’t tell you how lucky I’ve been. This life has given me every experience you could dream of,” she said. “I’ve chased my passion, I’ve been in love, I’ve made art that was revered by some and hated by some but that left its mark regardless. I’ve lived in cities, in small towns. I’ve experienced heartbreak that I thought would destroy me and the rush of hearing something that I wrote playing on the radio. But, Melody, the most transcendent thing I ever did was becoming your mom. Me and your dad knew he would never be selfless enough to stick around for a baby, but I had already done all the things I’d ever dreamed of doing when you came into my life. I saved the best for last, Pretty Girl. When I had you, I set it all up so that I could be the very best mother possible. I didn’tneedanything else. There was no space left in my heart for some silly boyfriend, you understand? I gave it all to you.”
She kept her eyes locked on the sea. Fighting back tears, I followed her gaze, wondering if I would ever know how she saw the world out there.
“Anyone who I let come in or out of my life after you was always just ancillary, you know? Extra gravy. Not the actual meat and potatoes of my world. That was always you. And that was exactly the way that I wanted it.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
We stayed like that for a while, staring at the horizon.
“I want that for you, Melody. I pray that you get to have a life so full that by the time you have a child, you’ve conquered all of your own dreams. Write all the books, sweetheart. Fall in love, hard. Spend it all—all theemotions, all the work—live so fully that one day you look around and realize you’re ready to give yourself entirely to someone else. And then have a child. You’ll see the world through brand-new eyes. You’ll get to experience all of their dreams and you’ll care about those dreams as if they were your own—maybe even more. That kind of love is unmatchable, irreplaceable,” she explained. “And I have been so, so lucky to have it.”
Chapter 22
With only two and a half perfunctory days left of the school year, I’m realizing that I’m going to need to hurry up and figure out thisPeoplemagazine thing soon.
