I stopped in my tracks, my heart dropping to the floor with my backpack as I waited for the words I knew were coming.
“Jada,” Dad choked. “It’s your mother …”
“So you used to live all the way out here?” I asked him, placing some sour cream on top of my quesadilla and trying to bring my thoughts back to the present.
“I did,” he said quietly, all of a sudden engrossed in his enchilada.
“Where?”
“Over that way,” he said, nodding his head across the street.
“Does your mother still live there?” I realized I didn’t know where his parents were or if he had brothers and sisters. I knew so very little.
“No,” he said, swallowing hard. “She doesn’t.” He picked up his water and took a sip, staring off into the desert.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push.” I felt embarrassed and curious all at the same time, my cheeks heating.
“You’re not pushing. My father passed away a while back, as you know,” he muttered, his eyes betraying his cool exterior. He swallowed again. “Kellie, or my mother as my birth certificate shows, ran off when I was a little boy. She found someone worth more financially than my father. Just your classic gold digger.”
“Oh, Cane, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful. Were you an only child?” I suddenly felt very alone for Cane. I couldn’t imagine being by myself in the world. Even through my divorce, my feelings of loneliness couldn’t compare to what Cane had to have felt.
“Yeah, just me.” He shrugged, moving his enchilada around on his plate.
“Did you ever see your mother again?”
He shook his head. “Nah, she married the guy she left Dad for and had some other kids. Or so I heard.”
My heart broke for this strong man in front of me who, at that moment, looked so mortal. I knew he was trying to hide what he was feeling, but I could see the memories cross his eyes.
“I lost my mother when I was fourteen,” I said quietly. “She was pregnant but didn’t know. She had an ectopic pregnancy and bled to death before my dad found her. So I understand what you feel like. I know how it feels to lose your mom, Cane.”
He set his fork down on his plate, staring at me. He didn’t move for a few moments and then began to speak. “She left when I was really young, maybe five or six. I don’t have a whole lot of memories of her.” He looked out across the desert. “I do remember waking up one morning, and she was gone, though. I kept thinking she would come back. I sat outside with my Tonka trucks for days, pushing the sand one way and then pushing it the other. I’d jump up every time I heard a car, believing it was going to be her.” He dragged his eyes back to mine and shook his head. “Dad carried me inside every night as the sun went down, kicking and screaming. I’d climb into my bed, bury myself in my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sheets, and cry myself to sleep.”
“That breaks my heart, Cane.”
“Don’t let it. What you went through was much worse. A whole different scale entirely. You probably loved your mother.”
“And I’m sure you loved yours, too,” I said softly. I wondered if Cane’s mother had loved him.How could she if she left him? But how could she not?I imagined a mini-Cane with messy blond hair, mischievous eyes, and his playful smirk.How would you not love that?
I thought back to my mother and how much she loved Kari and me.I couldn’t fathom her willingly walking out of our lives. Even though I wasn’t with her when she died, I knew she would have been fighting to stay with us. She loved us with everything she had.
“My mom is a coldhearted bitch. I could never love someone like that. For a very long time, I wasn’t sure I could ever loveanyoneagain.” He grinned.
I wasn’t sure if I should read into that, so I chose to ignore the last part of his statement. “But she was your mother. I’m sure you loved her then. Maybe not now.”
“I don’t love her now. I’m not capable of loving her now.”
“You’re capable of a lot more than I think you realize.” I smiled.
“Not that. She doesn’t exist to me anymore. The secret of moving on is to focus your energy on the future and not on the past. She’s the past. And I’m too busy looking ahead to remember her.”
“I love it that you told me about your family. I’m sure you don’t like to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” he said, picking up his napkin and wadding it into a ball. “I don’t talk about this shit. It worries me that I find myself running off at the mouth when you’re around.”
He smiled slowly at me, and I got up, walked around the table, and sat on his lap, running my hands through his hair. I tugged his head back lightly and kissed him.
“Well, I like that you find yourself telling me things.” I kissed him on the top of his head. “You know, I like to think my life is kind of like the books I read, only I’m the author. I can write the story I want. The future can be anything I want it to be.”
