I break.
Not loudly. Just… quietly. Tears I didn’t know I was holding spill over, and I bow my head because suddenly I’m twelve again and afraid of disappointing her.
“Ma,” I whisper. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I don’t know what to do. I love her. I really do. But I can’t be with her. We’re toxic. She makes me hate myself sometimes.”
A pause.
“And sometimes?” she prompts gently.
“Sometimes she makes me feel unstoppable.”
My mother huffs a short laugh. “Sounds like you’d never be bored.”
Then her face turns serious again.
“Ethan,” she says carefully, “do you want children?”
The question hits me square in the chest.
“I… I think so.”
“Do you want to be a father?”
“Yes.”
She nods once. “Then think hard about the roof you’d raise them under. Love isn’t enough if it teaches them fear.”
I swallow.
“Some people,” she goes on, “you love—but you don’t marry. And some people you marry—but the love grows quieter, steadier. The best partner for a life, the best parent to a child… might not be the one who sets your blood on fire.”
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been waiting years.
“That was Erin,” I say. The name tastes like nostalgia. “She was steady. Kind. We didn’t fight. I should’ve?—”
I stop myself, shaking my head.
“She sent an invitation,” I add. “A note too. Said running into me this summer made her think. After everything that’s happened… she wanted me there.”
My mother smiles softly. “And?”
“I don’t want to do that to her husband. I’d hate to stand at the altar and see someone my wife once loved watching us. That feels wrong.”
She considers this. Then: “You don’t have to go for the vows. You could go for the toast. For closure. Full circles are healing, son.”
I nod slowly.
“I’ll think about it.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the pianist drifting into something almost hopeful.
Then I take a breath.
“I think it’s time we sell the house,” I say. “Get you an apartment. Somewhere with an elevator. Promise me you’ll think about it.”
She looks at me. Really looks.
“I will,” she says. “Think about it.”
