If you don’t answer me, I’ll just have to drop by.
Which was something Caleb did every now and then, filling in the time between their mother’s trips to town. The visits were always short and awkward. Elliot didn’t love being reminded of how he’d bailed on the business they’d built together—not that Caleb ever brought it up—or how messed up he’d been after the divorce. He didn’t love being reminded that Caleb had always been the strong one, the brave one. Caleb was big and hearty, and their mother probably never told him he looked gaunt. And these were absurd thoughts for a grown man, but it was hard to get over the wounds of childhood. Caleb had always been the one most likely to succeed at anything, really. Yet for a brief period in time, Elliot had felt like he had won at something. He’d gotten married. He had a house and a yard. It felt like, by some arbitrary metrics, he’d been in front for a while.
His marriage ending had only brought things back to their natural state, Caleb thriving and Elliot barely hanging on.
‘I thought you’d like having more space,’ he said, gesturing around the tiny house, trying to not be a complete ass to his mother despite his feelings about her being here.
The cottage was small, but it was still bigger than a hotel room. There was a cozy sitting area with two overstuffed chairs by the front windows, looking out at the sea; all new hardwood floors, and Noah had done the place in a cream and navy color scheme, accentuating the seaside New England vibe. Art from local artisans on the wall included a kitschy map of Dream Harbor and a fish made entirely of sea glass. The kitchenette had just enough space to cook and eat the day’s catch (not that his mother had any intention of fishing while she was here) and the bedroom comfortably fit a queen-sized bed and a dresser. It was the perfect space for his mom. He knew she would especially love the front porch that Noah had added, complete with its two rocking chairs. Elliot had to hand it to him; the guy did a great job.
‘And this way you have a kitchen.’
She smiled at that. ‘True. Now I can cook for you.’
‘Sure, that would be great.’
By the time they were sitting down to a meal with enough calories to feed a linebacker, his mother was ready to dive into the real reason for her visit.
‘Have you been getting out?’
‘I go to work every day,’ Elliot said, shoveling another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. He’d rather bulk up than rehash this conversation with his mom.
‘You know what I mean, Elliot.’
She still thought of him as that little boy who would spend hours in his room, tucked away reading his history books. Or the man too broken to leave the house after his wife decided she didn’t love him anymore.
He didn’t know what it would take for his family to see that he was doing fine.
Okay, maybe not that fine.
Maybe he still spent too much time alone.
So, he wasn’t thriving. But he wasokay.
‘I get out plenty.’
‘You’re dating?’
He squeezed his eyes shut. Of course that was what his mother wanted. That was what would convince her he was fine.
But Elliot didn’t date. Not really. Far too shy in high school to ever ask anyone out, he’d fallen in love in college with the first girl who’d shown an interest in him and married her. Clearly, that hadn’t worked out great. And he now spent his time mourning the loss of his marriage and the one person he thought he’d spend the rest of forever with. It hadn’t been an easy adjustment for him. How was he supposed to go from planning to spend eternity with a person, to never seeing them again? It didn’t make sense.
His morning with Daisy popped into his head.
Did pretending to be someone’s boyfriend for a few minutes count as a date?
‘I’ve gone on a few.’ He looked down at his plate to avoid his mother’s eye while he quite blatantly lied. But he couldn’t take it! His mother’s concern for him. It was too much. He didn’t want to date. He didn’t want the crushing disappointment of things not working out. Being alone was safer.
‘That’s wonderful!’ His mother lit up. ‘It’s been a long time since the divorce, El. I’m so glad you’re finally moving on!’
Moving on. How does one actually move on from the biggest devastation of their lives?
He cleared his throat. ‘Yep.’
‘What’s her name?’ his mom asked, leaning conspiratorially across the table, like it was a secret, like they weren’t the only two people in the tiny house.
‘Uh… Daisy.’
‘Daisy!’ His mother clasped her hands together over her heart. ‘How sweet.’
