But I hadn’t moved for several reasons.
Until a week and a half ago, I hadn’t spoken with Cora in years. It wasn’t to intentionally hurt her. More like I thought I was doing the right thing when I couldn’t see me making it back to her. So, I was doing right by her. At least that is what I told myself. I was letting her go. Letting her move on and find love again.
Only I didn’t share that with her. I made the decision all on my own. Because I figured a clean break was the best way. For obvious reasons, I am an idiot. Live and learn, I suppose.
When I get in the Uber, I tell the driver I would like some quiet. I need time to think, to strategize. And I can’t do that while a bored driver shoots the shit with me. Thankfully, he respects my request.
After battling late-day traffic, the driver pulls into Mom’s driveway on the outskirts of Burbank. I thank the driver, grab my luggage and walk up to the hou
se. Mom’s house looks much the same as it did thirteen years ago when we moved to California. The only difference is the paint has faded slightly, the plants have been swapped for more colorful versions, and the tree in the front yard is a little taller and bushier.
Although I have adjusted to Mom living here, this house has still never felt like home. Just a layover until my path realigned.
Maybe I should have messaged Mom before just showing up on her doorstep. She will probably think me crazy. Question me endlessly. Popping up here is nowhere near my norm. Whatever. Perhaps I am going crazy. But if being crazy equals being happy, consider me certifiable.
I punch my code into the door lock and step inside. The moment I pass the threshold, the scent of curry and bell peppers and grilled chicken attacks my nose. A second later, my stomach growls in response. Obviously, the airport food didn’t hold me over long.
“Mom?” I call out.
“Gavin, is that you?”
Every time she asks that, it makes me laugh. Does she have other children I am unaware of? Better yet, is there another guy in her life that could be walking through the door? The latter never crossed my mind until now. I wouldn’t expect my mom to remain celibate after Dad passed, but she still wears her wedding jewelry. Wonder if I need to give her the okay to move on? If I need to tell her it is okay to find love again. That I am okay with her loving someone besides Dad.
Maybe another time.
“Yeah, Mom. Are you in the kitchen?” I ask as I walk in that direction. I figure I will ask a stupid question in return. With all the deliciousness floating through the air, she is either cooking or just sitting down to eat.
The second I round the corner and the kitchen comes into view, the grilled peppers and spices hit me full force. My stomach bellows out and constricts, and I pat my abdomen. Calm down, we will eat soon.
“Hey, honey. What are you doing here?” She smiles, wraps me in her embrace, and I squeeze her a little harder than usual. “Is everything okay?” Concern laces her voice since I have yet to let her go.
I give her one last squeeze, take a deep breath, then let her go. She steps back to the stove, but has her eyes on me. “No, everything’s not okay. I just flew back from Clearwater.”
In front of me, Mom freezes with the spoon mid-air above the pan. Her eyes search mine, looking for clues as to what I am thinking, before pinching tightly with sadness. “Oh, Gavin. Was that where your shoot was?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think I’d see her. But I was so far off base. Mom… she was the photographer for my shoot.”
Mom sets the spoon on the rest and comes to stand beside me. She rubs my back, trying to soothe away my pain. She remembers, all too well, my rebellious days after we moved to California. The torment I endured and inflicted on everyone around me.
“What can I do?”
I turn to her and hug her again. When I release her, I relay my plan to her. And I tell her what happened in Clearwater with Alyson and Layla. How both of them behaved as if their needs and desires supersede mine—even with me in the epicenter.
The fire in Mom’s eyes is like nothing I have seen before. Even with all the shit I put her through, she never showed this side. At least not to me. Her cheeks burn bright red as she balls her fingers into tight fists at her side. Right now, Mom is as livid as I am. If not more.
“I’m moving back, Mom. But I have a lot of work ahead of me.”
The fire leaves her eyes and is replaced with a gentle smile. “Please tell me what I can do to help. Of course, I’ll miss you, but I understand. Your heart never left Florida, honey. Not once.”
Since Dad passed away two years ago, Mom and I have grown much closer. For a little while, I let go of the anger and resentment I held toward her. Once I understood she had no choice—take the promotion or possibly lose her job—my forgiveness was easier to dole out.
“True. But I messed up, Mom. I don’t know if she’ll forgive me.”
Mom walks over to the stove and turns off the burner. She grabs two bowls from the cabinet and portions us both some food. We walk over to the small, four-seater dining table and sit. She sets a bowl in front of me before speaking.
When her eyes meet mine, they are serious and determined. “Gavin… Don’t stay away and wonder what if this or what if that. If there is one thing losing your father taught me, it’s that life is much shorter than we give it credit for. You have to do things now, while you still can. There are so many things your father and I didn’t get to do together. Things I will never get to do with him. And I’m fully aware he’d want me to keep living my life. To find someone else who brings me happiness. But I’m not ready for that. It’s too soon. Maybe one day…”
I reach across the table and take her hand. “When you’re ready, Mom. It’s okay if that doesn’t happen for many years to come. Or if it happens sooner than you expect. Anyone who says otherwise is an asshole.”