“Oh, Alexander, I’m so, so sorry, baby,” my mom cries softly, her voice tearful. “I never meant to make it harder on you.”
Still keeping my eyes on Gwen, I console her. “I know. And I love you for caring so much.”
She sniffs again and then there’s a shuffling sound. Next comes the deep murmur of my father’s voice talking to my mom before he gets on the line.
“Son.”
“Hey, Dad. How is she?”
“She’ll be fine.” He sighs. “I heard what you told her and it was something she needed to hear. She can’t keep smothering you. She needs to let you heal.”
I feel like an asshole because I know my mom wants me to heal, she’s just not giving me what I need to do so. I’m not entirely sure I deserve to heal after what I’ve done.
“How are you doing?” my dad asks.
You’d think that after upsetting my mom to explain that her constant worry wasn’t helping me that having my dad ask the same thing would bother me. There’s a difference between my mom asking versus my dad. I love my mom just as much as my dad, and I appreciate both of them worrying, but whereas my dad takes my answer for what it is and leaves it at that, my mom will dig and dig, thinking if she gets deep enough I’ll reveal my true feelings.
Knowing he’s asking because of what tomorrow is, I say honestly, “I’m doing the best I can.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then says quietly, “You need us, you call.”
“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”
He clears his throat, then changes the subject like I knew he would. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s that he knows not to push.
My eyes are still glued to Gwen, who’s now holding the puppy closer to her face. She watches me curiously.
“Your mom wants to come for a visit. I’ve put her off for as long as I can, but I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to.”
I break my gaze from Gwen and turn around. It’s hard to think about anything other than Gwen when I’m looking at her. I think that’s part of the reason I want to keep her here so badly. The guilt and pain don’t consume me as strongly when she’s here.
It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen my parents, and I know it hurts my mom that it’s been so long. As much as she bugs the hell out of me, I miss them both.
“Give me a couple weeks and tell her to plan a trip.”
“You sure?” my dad asks.
“Yeah.”
We talk for a few more minutes about nothing in particular before we hang up. I keep my back turned to the living room, trying to gather my thoughts before facing Gwen again. The woman has me wrapped up in feelings I haven’t felt in a long time, and I have no idea what to do with them. With fear of sounding like a pansy-ass, Gwen’s put me through the emotional wringer.
Instead of going back to the living room, I opt to make myself a plate of the leftovers Gwen brought with her. Mrs. Myers only lives a few miles from me and there’s been several occasions she’s called on me for help around the house. Both of us, along with a couple more houses, are the only people out this far from town. I don’t mind the times I’ve had to help the little old lady out, and whenever I make one of my rare trips to town, I always call her to see if she needs anything. A couple times when I went by her place she insisted I stay for dinner. She’s a really good cook, so when I bite into the homemade mashed potatoes and the oven-roasted turkey, my taste buds nearly explode with pleasure. I scarf down the plate of food in no time.
When I walk back into the living room a few minutes later, I only find Daniel and Kelsey.
“Where’s your mom?” I ask Daniel.
He pauses in playing with the puppies with a couple of the wooden figurines and looks up at me. Shrugging, he says, “She said she was going to the bathroom.”
My eyes immediately move to the hallway, where I have a view of the bathroom door. It’s open with the light off. Not caring that she uses the bathroom in my bedroom, but finding it weird that she would do so, I make my way down the hallway to the door down at the end.
When I step through the doorway, I’m both surprised and pissed at what I see. Gwen’s sitting on the bed with the pictures from my nightstand in her hand. I don’t know why it makes me angry that she’s looking at them. It’s not that she went through my nightstand. Yes, I’m a private guy, but with Gwen I’ve been more open than I have with anyone else in a long time. It’s just… I don’t like her looking at what’s caused all my pain and heartache, knowing I’m the reason I’m going through it.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, my tone harsher than I intended it to be.
She jumps up from the bed, startled both by my presence and tone. She looks down guiltily at the pictures still in her hand before bringing her eyes up to meet mine. I’m trying to rein in the anger, but I know some of it seeps through. I’m sure she didn’t purposely come in here to snoop, I just don’t know why she is in here.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her face drawn down into a frown. “I was looking for my earrings I left on the nightstand. I thought maybe they fell in the drawer.”