“It’s perfect.” Connie reaches one hand over to my knee and taps twice before returning it to Willow’s back. “What’s her middle name?”
“Jean, like us.” Connie’s brows furrow in surprise. She nods at me with tucked-in lips and eyes filled with gratitude.
I suppose she didn’t assume I’d carry on the tradition of our middle names. My grandmother’s name was Jean. I never knew her, but it’s Connie’s middle name as well as my own. It didn’t feel right to not give it to Willow.
Connie clears her throat and wipes her face clean before speaking. “She looks so healthy. Is she okay?”
“Yeah, actually—we got some good news this morning. The hole in her artery has closed so she won’t need surgery… she healed herself.”
“Of course she did. Strong women, our family.”
She hesitates, then we say, barely above a whisper, “Strong brows, strong noses, strong bodies, strong hearts,” in unison.
“Strong hearts indeed.” Connie sniffles and wipes her face with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Thank you, Chloe. For—for doing what I couldn’t.”
I nod, wiping some tears of my own. I have to know. Now. “Mom… I—I’m really proud of you… for getting sober. But—”
“Baby, no,” Connie interrupts me. “I know what you’re going to say and no. Willow… She’s staying with you. I promise.” She takes a deep inhale, and her chest rises. “I—I miss her beyond measure, as I missed you all those years, but I know I could relapse. I know what that did to you. I know she’s better off… with you. The stronger version of me.”
Calm washes over me like a warm, ferocious wave. My breath is loud and scattered as each of my fears for the last week are purged from my body. I’m speechless and immensely unsure of how I went from resenting my mother for having Willow to being grateful to her for giving her to me. We’re silent for a few minutes as Connie rubs Willow’s soft hair.
“I’m just so glad you’re together,” Connie says.
I sit with that, trying to process and untie all the mental knots of tension I’ve had since Rachel’s call about visits. I look at Willow, still reeling from the amazing news from Dr. O’Leary this morning.
A few minutes pass before I speak. “I think we get stronger with each generation. Like we’re evolving.”
“Well, then.” Connie pauses and looks at my face with pride. “The world better watch out for her. Her sister is already the most incredible person I know.” Connie reaches out to hold my hand, and I don’t move away.
Her hands are soft, like I remember, but trembling. I feel for the scar on her pinkie finger that I used to trace up and down as she read me bedtime stories. It’s all much more familiar, much harder to ignore. This is my mom. And she’s doing the right thing.
The visit passes quickly, with Willow getting fussier and more vocal before her nap towards the end. Connie got to feed her, which seemed important to her. She asked me four or five times before we left if weekly visits were okay, and she promised to be at each one. I hugged her before she left—the first hug from my mother in eight years.
Odette stays back once Connie has left and opens her arms to offer me a hug as well. “Good to see you, hon,” she says over my shoulder.
“You too.” While I appreciate the calls with her, nothing could come close to the comfort she brings into a room. “Thanks again for coming today.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m so proud of you, Chloe. You just did a very hard thing. The first visit is so difficult. You gave your mama so much grace. You should be proud.”
I don’t let the words linger too long. I’ve cried enough in this room as it is. “Thank you.”
“How are things going? At home? With work?”
“Good, yeah. Work is steady. I’m doing one or two smaller projects a week—trying to make enough to pass the re-evaluation. Actually, I might have an easier time with that now… this morning we decided that Warren and Luke are going to stay on as roommates permanently.”
“Oh, that’s good news! Perhaps then it’s time to slow down on work. You look exhausted…”
I huff. “Yeah, maybe.”
“And things with Warren?”Where did we leave off the last time we spoke?I think I had spent a good twenty minutes telling her about the pancake breakfast debacle before she cut me off.
“Huh… Well, I kissed him today.” Odette leans back, eyes widened and mouth curving into a grin, and waits for me to continue.
I imagine Warren sitting in the front seat of his car in the parking lot, and my heart flutters. Nothing has ever come close to the comfort I have received from him today. This morning in his arms, the firm hand clasped around mine at the hospital. He sees my messy… and stays. I shake my head, realising what I’m about to say is perhaps the first time I’ve admitted it to myself as well.
“I think I might be in love with him.”
Odette smiles in the way an adult does when a child tells them something they already know. “Hon, I could have told you that. You light up like a Christmas tree when you talk about him.”
