I stand up straight and lift my head as high as I can before stepping out from behind the teller cages and looking right into the eyes of my mother. Her gaze is bright but guarded, and I know what she’s feeling. She’s happy I’m in love but hurt I never told her.
I take her arm and lead her outside the bank and down to the patch of grass by the gazebo. We take seats on the bench before I turn to her. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted to tell you a thousand times, and I chickened out. But this isn’t some little fling, Mom. Jenson and I are in love with each other and have been for years.”
“That’s what’s so astounding about all of this…” she begins. “For—years?”
“Yes, years,” I repeat firmly.
“But your marriage…”
“Was forced,” I say. “I wanted Nate to be right, but he wasn’t. You all wanted Jenson and me to be cousins so much, with the best intentions, of course. But we always had that spark between us. As a teenager, I was too young, and when Meghan got pregnant…the timing was just never right. And I never wanted him to lose the Grahams as family.”
Mom leans her head against the bench. She looks spent. “Of course he won’t lose us. Don’t worry about that. So you and Jenson have always had a thing for one another?”
“I can’t remember a day when I didn’t love him.” I’m surprised how raw my voice sounds and how laced with emotion.
“Was it the same for him?”
“Yes. We were each other’s everything. We always will be.”
“Olivia.” Mom’s voice is hushed. “This is…big. Big love.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Mom,” I finally say. “How are you feeling?”
Mom starts. “Oh, pardon me, Olivia. Of course I’m happy you’re in love. I adore Jenson. And you two have always been so attached to one another even though I missed the fact that it was romantic attachment. You know we always wanted him to feel like a member of the family. So the circumstances…”
“I’ve let circumstances hold me back for years,” I say. “I’ll hurt too many feelings; I’m too young; he’s too old; it’s not the right time; I need to wait a while; I need to wait forever; I need to marry the wrong man and stay far away from the right one…” I brush the tears off my cheeks as Mom reaches hastily into her purse for a tissue. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I feel the wetness on my face.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mom reaches over to hug me. “Dad told me you two talked about love and life the other day. I didn’t realize what you were hinting at. I mean, your words were clearly a cry for help.” She gasps.
“Mom, you weren’t even there.”
“Oh, honey, I’m always there,” she says knowingly. “Dad and I are like one soul, honey. He spoke to you, felt your issues peeking out from the surface, and he came to me. He said he thought you might be on the edge.”
“The edge of what?” I say to her. “He did not say that, Mom! You’re speaking reflectively now that you know about Jenson.”
“Well.” Mom doesn’t know how to argue her way out of that comment, so she hands me another tissue and begins to talk about her undying love for Dad.
“That’s great, Mom,” I finally get out. “I’m glad you and Dad still stoke the fires as you say.”
She fixes her attention on me. “I’m happy for you, Olivia. And your father and I both support this union. We may have been taken off-guard, and some members of the family may not be as comfortable with your relationship as they could be…”
“I know that Cybil and Matilda and others may always judge us. They literally seem to think Jenson is blood-related. Not to mention the town.”
“All you can do is be happy. Don’t pay the haters any mind, okay? Listen, Bea is excited to talk to you about Jenson. She’s on my side of the family, and we’ve always been more open-minded. You two can chat tonight. She found the perfect Adult Ed. class.”
“Mom, I’m not sure…”
“It’s some extreme form of yoga, supposedly to open up your sex chakra. They say everybody stays clothed, but it may entail a little disrobing of outerwear…”
Oh, sweet Lord.“I can’t possibly do that right now. Sex yoga is not the right match for my mood today.”
Mom nods solemnly and then gasps so loudly that I jump.
“What?” I ask.
