“There are no mistakes in life. Everything you do is a choice. Some of them are good, and others contribute to our personal growth, teach us lessons. Choices lead us to things we were meant to experience. I may be depressed, but I’m still your mother, and I’ve still garnered some wisdom over the years.”
“You’re not disappointed in me, then?”
“Why would I be? Noah is a great man. My trepidation about him early on had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. I was afraid to lose you. I’ve since come to terms with the fact that you’re leaving, so my feelings toward Noah have evolved, too. I’ve always sensed the attraction between the two of you. You know that. So, no, this isn’t a surprise, and I’m not disappointed. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Wow.” I took a sip of my coffee and sighed. “I was expecting you to give me hell.”
“Do I think he’s too old for you? Yes. But the fact is, you’re an adult. I’ve tried hard over the past couple of months to learn how to let you go. That means not questioning your decisions anymore. It hasn’t been easy.”
“I’m pretty sure I might be in love with him, but I would never tell him that. That would freak him out.”
My mother didn’t seem all that surprised to hear me say that either. “I know he cares about you, too.”
“He cares about me, yes, and because of that, he didn’t want to cross the line. But I’ve made it very difficult for him to resist me. I’ve practically thrown myself at him all summer. So, eventually he gave in. But…now I sort of regret my actions. I was careless, thinking I could handle anything. Maybe I can’t.”
“What is he telling you?”
“He doesn’t want to tie me down right now. He’s afraid I’ll regret it. Which means I’m pretty sure his plan is to go back to Pennsylvania and go on with his life without me.”
My mother looked pensive as she stared out the window toward the boathouse. “I do believe he has your best interests at heart. And I do believe he’s right in some ways. But I also believe that if two people are truly meant to be together, they’ll find a way to make it work. Sometimes you have to be apart first to figure that out.”***Throughout the afternoon, I could still feel Noah between my legs. The harsh reality of our last conversation, though, clashed with the post-coital haze. As confused as I was, my body craved him.
I thought a lot about what my mother had said, about people sometimes needing to be apart to figure things out. There was a reason for that old saying about setting someone free if you love them. If they don’t come back, they never belonged to you in the first place.
In my heart, I knew Noah wasn’t going to let me cancel my plans to go to Vermont. It was important to him that I experience living independently. So I had to figure out how I was going to handle these remaining days with him, considering that moving ahead with my plans was inevitable.
He’d texted a few times to check on me. I’d avoided going over there long enough.
I forced myself to shower and get dressed.
The weather was overcast and drizzly as I made my way back to the boathouse.
Noah opened the door right away, looking concerned, like he was already anticipating that my mood would be off.
“Hey,” he said, his tone sullen.
“Hey.”
There was an awkwardness in the air, like we didn’t know whether to argue, kiss each other, start fucking again, or what.
The smell of something cooking invaded my senses as I entered.
Walking over to the stove, I asked, “What are you making?”
“It’s cooler out today. I made this stew. Will you have some with me?”
“Yeah. That sounds great.” I peeked into the pot. “What’s in it?” The steam hit my face.
“Carrots, beef, onions, spices…a lot of things. A mish-mash, kind of like my brain today.”
“I can relate.”
Our eyes locked. His stare fell to my lips. He looked like he wanted to kiss me. I wanted him to, but at the same time, I prayed he didn’t.
He stirred the pot. “My dad used to make this stew, actually. It’s one of the only things he knows how to cook. One day I asked him to teach me how to make it. We call it man stew.”
“That’s funny.” I chuckled. “Well, I’d love to try some of your man stew.”
That most certainly sounded sexual.
Noah set two bowls out and poured some of the concoction into each. He carried them over to where I was sitting at the table.
I blew on it and took a bite. “Mmm…it’s good. Hits the spot.”