“My favorite memory of my mother was when I was very young, Maybe four.I don’t know.We were at my grandmother’s—her mother’s house.They sang together, and it was so beautiful.It was for my birthday.”I smiled.“They made me a cake.Chocolate with caramel frosting.”
Nash made a startled noise.I’d never told him that before—that we shared a favorite cake.“My granny died not long after, I think.At least, I don’t have other memories of her.”
“That’s sad,” Nash said.
I bundled the sleeping baby closer.“Not as sad as the fact that almost every other memory of my mom is her bruised, crying…scared.”
I swallowed as sweat trickled down my back and from my armpits.I’d been punched and kicked by my father; I’d survived firefights with tons of ammunition and close-action fighting.Never had I needed more courage than now as I looked in my son’s eyes and said the words that made me an utter failure.
“So…you know father beat my mother and me.What you don’t know is that he killed her and nearly killed me.I didn’t—couldn’t—stop him.”
Nash leaned back so that his arms clasped around his knees were taut as he eyed me carefully.“I knew it was bad,” he murmured.“Tell me?About her, at least.Cuz I think I’ve always assumed she was like my mother.”
It was a question, not a demand.I appreciated that.We both knew he had the right to his history, but this was a gentler transition of the ugliness I carried with me.I spoke quietly because I didn’t want these words in Levi’s consciousness—ever.Part of me hoped the rushing water would wash the horrors downstream.“Maybe.If so, it wasn’t an intentional choice where I was looking to be a hero with your mother.Well, maybe I was.She was delicate, emotionally fragile in a way I understood.Yes, that was like my mother.”I paused, let that truth sink in.By talking to Nash and Jasmine I’d gained so many new insights into my actions, myself.
“But no…Carolina burned with life.I never knew my mother like that.She was scared, beaten not just with my father’s fists but with the threats made by both my dad and granddad.”Succinctly, I told him the story of my parents’ deaths.
We sat silently next to each other, simply breathing as the story settled into the water.I imagined it rippling downstream, getting buried in stones and gravel.Bits of it sliding into a much larger river and getting swallowed by fish or even drifting out deep into the ocean.Far away from Nash, Aya, Levi, and Jasmine.
I inhaled in increments, surprised by how hard and yet how freeing it was to no longer carry that burden alone.Without Jasmine’s presence in my life, I never would have told Nash.
And I realized this is what family was: we held each other’s worst moments, the pain from them, until that person was strong enough to bear the burden.Or we simply helped carry it…as I did Nash’s former addiction.We grew stronger, more capable because the bonds we’d forged together were stronger.
That was a power I’d never understood, never wanted because I hadn’t known I needed it.I swallowed as the epiphanies continued to whirl through my mind.Family didn’t have to be a burden, a trauma to overcome.This family, with Nash, Aya, and Levi—with Jasmine—was something good.Something that made me better and stronger.
I bet Nash had figured that out already; that was why he and Aya had such a profound bond.I envied my son that connection with his wife and it was something I strove to build and deepen with Jasmine.
Still, forever, my boy taught me about life.I was so blessed to have him in my life.
“Pretty fucked up life,” Nash said when I finished.
“Hey!He doesn’t need to hear that,” I said, gently cupping Levi’s ear.
Nash chuckled.“He’s sleeping, but I’ll keep my words from here on out PG.”
“Good.That’s my grandson you’re corrupting.”
Nash laughed again.My heart lifted.Sure, he wasn’t ready to admit to us having a genuine bond, but he was lighter than usual—almost carefree.I enjoyed spending time with him, which was hard to do with all his responsibilities.I wanted more of these memories with my family.
My mind flashed back to dinner with Jasmine last night.I wanted more time with her, too.
“I’m in love with Jasmine Grace,” I blurted, before I let the fear get the better of me.
Nash sobered and studied me.The moment dragged out and my heart pounded.Then he said, “I know.”
“How the hell…heckcould you know?”I asked.“Ijust figured it out.”
Nash knocked his shoulder into mine.Gently.I appreciated that because I didn’t want to wake the baby.
“The way you look at her—it’s how Cam looks at Jenna, or how I assume I look at Aya.”
I pursed my lips.“The lovesick puppy eyes?”
Nash chuckled.“Yep.”
“Hell.”
“Stop corrupting my son,” Nash said again, but there was no heat to his words.
