After I clean everything up, I grab my cell phone from the living room and call someone who I should have called a while ago, my mom. She and my dad have been married for going on thirty-four years. I still remember the day I did the math and my mom was pregnant on their wedding day. Sure, I was a kid, but I knew then their love was built to last. We had some tough times growing up, sometimes living paycheck to paycheck, both of my parents working all day, coming home bone tired yet still taking me to football practice, and never missing a single day. Even though my dad was building his company from the ground up, one that I’m now lucky enough to have taken over now. Don’t get me wrong, he made me work for it. It wasn’t handed to me for free, I’ll fucking tell you that. I started out working in the mailroom during my summers in high school. Once I started college, it was still the same—I worked as a peon until I worked my way up the corporate ladder. My college degree didn’t give me a foot in the door; neither did being my father’s blood. I may have had a few choice words for him during those younger years, but now that I’m thirty-three years old, I look back on them and smile. My parents molded me to be the success I am today, though it wasn’t all on them. They made sure I wanted it. Even if I didn’t, they would have cheered me on, supporting whatever path I took.
So, when my mom answers on the second ring with happiness coming through from her end of the line, I know I made the right choice.
“Hey! How’s my favorite son?” she asks, causing me to laugh.
“I’m your only son, Mom. I’m good, well, I will once Hadley and I hash things out. How are you and Dad doing?” I reply.
“I love that girl. What did you do now? We’re fine. Your father is busy installing a new closet system for my shoes.” She doesn’t even act like it could be Hadley’s fault, which it isn’t. If anything, it’s on both of us.
“Who says it’s my fault, and how many shoes do you own that Dad is installing a closet system for shoes?”
“Oh, honey, you have so much to learn. It’s always the man’s fault. It’s just the nature of the beast.” She chuckles. I know full well it takes two to make anything worse, but she always jokes about this when she and Dad bicker for fun. “And don’t talk about my shoes. They’re sensitive.”
This causes me to roar with laughter. Her shoes are sensitive.
“Yeah, I’m sure the soles of shoes have a soul, Mom.”
“I’m going to give you a word of advice, if you love it, go after it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Anything worth having is worth fighting for. Now, don’t talk about my shoes. Their soles are my soul, you know. I have shoes, your father has vehicles.” I can tell she’s rolling her eyes at the car part. She’s not wrong though. Dad owns something like seven cars. Two are the daily drivers for him and Mom. The others are antiques, and they use them on a whim or if they decide to go on a short road trip.
“I know. She’s working at The Alibi right now. I’m not going to rush her and have her run even further away.”
“Why the hell is she working there? She has a job at Gardener’s. No, don’t tell me. I already know that lazy no-good dirt bag. I bet you she was due for a raise and better benefits. Instead of him giving them to her, he let her go. That’s the same song and dance he does to everyone. You tell her to sit tight. She doesn’t need them.” Mom is getting fired up over this, probably more than even Hadley.
“I told her that already. She’s strong willed, you know, kind of like someone else in this family I know.”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” she fires back.
“Har, har. I’ll let you know about dinner tomorrow. I don’t want to commit if Hadley still needs space.” I breathe out, praying like hell this shit will be settled tonight. Mom is on this new kick where she likes to have Hadley and me over a couple of times a month, even if it’s just for Sunday brunch.
“Then get off your ass and fix it, Cooper Alexander Jackson,” she admonishes.
“I’m going to, if you’d give me a minute to tell you. Christ, I bet Dad is cherishing his time alone in your shoe closet. You’re feisty today.” We joke like this all the time. Dad shakes his head and interjects every now and then.