“Did I ever tell you about my mom and her singing?” he asked.
The tone of his voice had morphed into one of admiration…and love. It was obvious he cared deeply for his mother, even though she’d left them. That was heartbreaking.
“No,” I said. “Tell me.”
He launched into various stories about how she used to include music and song in almost everything she did with him and Gage. It wasn’t just lullabies. While she cooked, she sang. While she did the laundry, she sang. When they walked toschool, she sang. He was immersed in the world of music with her. She bought him his first guitar and taught him to play. They would sit on their front porch and practice until the fireflies came out.
As I listened to Chase talk about his mom, I realized there was a gap that had been widening between us, and I didn’t want that. Even with the rough night we had, I didn’t want that. This was helping.
It was helping both of us.
“What is your mother’s name?” I asked.
A smile consumed him with my question.
“Susanna.” His eyes drifted back to the ceiling. It was as if he needed to look away to take himself back to a time that was better. “Isn’t that a beautiful name?”
“It is,” I said.
The question was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.
Why haven’t you reached out to her if you miss her so much?
“I guess your interest in music makes sense.” My body turned in his direction, and he did the same. “I’m the least musically inclined person you’ll ever meet, but I love to listen to music. I usually have it on in my apartment all the time when I’m alone.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked. “What do you like to listen to?”
Our conversations went on for hours. We stopped and had some of the pastries. I made coffee. But we never stopped talking. The words flowed like wine between us, and it made me realize we’d never done this before.
There had never been a time we sat and really shared anything about ourselves with one another. Casual conversation about superficial things at work, but nothing substantial.
Chase was going through his Spotify list and playing random songs through my speaker to see if I knew them. It was a game we’d been playing, taking turns for a while to pass the time, andit was fun. As the day came to a close and the sun began to set, I wondered where this left us.
The barriers we broke through with our sharing seemed to help with some issues I had with him earlier.
But not all of them. One still chipped away at my brain, and I couldn’t let it go.
“Chase.”
He paused the song at the sound of his name. The seriousness of the way I said his name caused our eyes to connect. A look of defeat fell across his face.
He sat on the floor, holding his phone, simply staring at me. Waiting.
“I need to know. Who were you with last night?” My manicured nails were safe from my teeth, but my cuticles weren’t. I found a loose piece of skin and gnawed on it while waiting for him to say something.
Anything.
“Mare.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice as my name got drawn out. As our day progressed, he probably thought the topic was closed. “Why does it matter?”
It was hard knowing he was with someone else. All this back and forth, it was killing us both.
“I don’t need details, Chase. All I want to know is, was it her?”
His eyes pinched together. My god, why were men so clueless? It was my turn to be exasperated.
“Was it Amanda!” It came out loud and strong, as I slammed my hands on the table in front of me.
His movements were slow as he got up from the floor and approached me. The table was between us.
