My mother sets the frying pan down and steps closer. “Sure, why not.”
I laugh a little, the humor keeping the tears from falling faster.
“Here let me.” My mother takes the wine bottle from my hands and opens a drawer. “Sit down at the kitchen table and I’ll bring you some.”
I nod. Most people binge on chocolate. Me, I usually binge on ice cream. Most times I call the girls and we watch movies, but not this time. This time it feels more catastrophic and the only things a girl needs in times like these are her mother and wine. I watch each movement of my mother in her long pink robe, uncorking the bottle, and pouring us both a glass. I’m the product of divorce and don’t get to see my father too often. But, let me say he missed out with having my mother around.
She has a way to calm and soothe without even saying a word. I know in the past she’s been hard on me about getting married, but it’s all part of who she is. A confident, competitive woman.
She sets the wine glass down in front of me, and I pick it up and take a sip, letting the cool buttery flavor fill my tongue of the Chardonnay.
“Thank you.” I’ve nearly chugged half my glass, and my mother hasn’t even touched hers.
“Rough day?”
“The roughest.” I take another big gulp. “Ellis and I broke it off.” I don’t go into the details of Henry and him forcing me to do it, mainly because it’s late and I am not feeling the full effects of my wine yet.
She rubs my back. “Oh no, that’s horrible. He was such a great guy.” I love the past tense. Like Ellis is no longer that great. Like it was his fault we’re no longer together.
The first tear drops, just thinking about how great he is. “It just never would’ve worked. He lives there, I live here.”
My mother stops rubbing my back and picks up her wine glass, taking a small sip. “Well, you’re right this has been a rough night.”
I laugh a little through the tears that are heavily falling now. “I know.”
My mother, bless her heart, doesn’t say anything, just hands me a box of tissues and takes another sip of her wine. We sit in silence for a few minutes, and it’s exactly what I need right now. I finish off my glass of wine, and my mother fills another one for me.
“Kiki, you don’t have to have your whole life figured out ahead of time. Hell,” she laughs, “I’m still figuring mine out along the way.” She wraps her arms around me, curling me into a hug.
“I know. I just so wanted to figure things out with him.”
* * *
I stay at my mother’s house and the next morning, I feel like I’ve cried a river. My eyes are puffy, and I look like I was hit by a Mack truck, and feel like it too.
“Morning,” my mother singsongs, cooking something that smells delicious on the stove. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I doubt I could eat, even though it all looks so delicious. I make some sort of inaudible sound, and my mother shushes it away.
“You need food.” She places a plate in front of me, and I smile at the eggs and bacon positioned in a smiley face for me.
“Mom, you do know I’m not five-years-old anymore, right?”
She smiles, leaning over to kiss my cheek. “I can spoil my baby anytime she’s here.”
It’s always good to come home, to remember where you came from. Sure, I know my mother doesn’t live too far away, but I don’t get home as much as I should. And that thought saddens me.
“What are you doing today?” I ask my mother.
She shrugs. “Haven’t really come up with anything. You?”
“I need to go to the Atwood’s to collect all the decorations, and make sure everything turned out ok.” Leaving right in the middle of the party I was throwing was probably not the best idea. But, the party was dying down, and hopefully they don’t hold it against me. “I should get ready.” I take a bite of the eggs, and try my best to gather the courage of facing them.
Not so much the Atwood’s, but Ellis. I hope he’s not there.
Like I said, once the money is handled, and the deal goes through then I know for a fact Ellis will be back on the first flight to Georgia. It’s sad, sure, but it’s for the best.
Now their brewery will have the products I helped come up with. Now every dog in America (ok the Southeast, until they expand) can have a healthy doggy treat. That thought makes me smile.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I love my mom.
“No, it’ll be ok. I’m a big girl.” Even though I don’t feel like it right now.