We'll Always Have Summer (Summer 3)

I felt swoony and dazed. “She’s eating breakfast,” I said.

“Come on in.”

I opened the door for him, and he followed me inside to the kitchen. Brightly, I said, “Mom, look who’s here!”

My mother looked astonished, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Jeremiah!”

Jeremiah walked over to her, flowers in hand. “I just had to come and greet my future mother-in-law properly,” he said, grinning his impish grin. He kissed her on the cheek and set the flowers by her bowl of yogurt.

I was watching closely. If anybody could charm my mother, it was Jeremiah. Already I could feel the tension in our house being lifted.

She smiled a smile that looked brittle, but it was a smile nonetheless. She stood up. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to the both of you.”

Jeremiah rubbed his hands together. “All righty. Let’s do this. Belly, get over here. Group hug first.”

My mother tried not to laugh as Jeremiah gave her a bear hug. He motioned for me to join in, and I came up behind my mother and hugged her around the waist. She couldn’t help it: a laugh escaped. “All right, all right. Let’s go into the living room. Jere, have you eaten?”

I answered for him. “Egg McMuffin, right, Jere?”

He winked at me. “You know me so well.”

My mother had already stepped into the living room, her back to us.

“I can smell McDonald’s on your breath,” I told him in a low voice.

He clapped his hand over his mouth, looking self-conscious, which was rare for him. “Does it smell bad?”

he asked me.

I felt so much tenderness toward him in that moment.

“No,” I told him.

The three of us sat in the living room, Jeremiah and I on the couch, my mother in an armchair facing us.

Everything was going so well. He had made my mother laugh. I hadn’t seen her laugh or smile since we’d told her. I started to feel hopeful, like this might actually work.

The first thing she said was, “Jeremiah, you know I love you. I want nothing but the best for you. That’s why I can’t support what you two are doing.”

Jeremiah leaned forward. “Laur—”

My mother held up her hand. “You’re just too young.

Both of you. You’re both still gestating and becoming the people you will one day be. You’re still children. You aren’t ready for a commitment like this. I’m talking about a lifetime here, Jeremiah.”

Eagerly, he said, “Laurel, I want to be with Belly for a lifetime. I can commit to that, easy.”

My mother shook her head. “And that’s how I know you’re not ready, Jeremiah. You take things too lightly. This isn’t the kind of thing you undertake on a whim. This is serious.” The condescension in her voice really pissed me off. I was eighteen years old, not eight, and Jeremiah was nineteen. We were old enough to know that marriage was serious. We’d seen the way our parents had screwed up their own marriages. We weren’t going to make the same mistakes. But I didn’t say anything. I knew that if I got mad or tried to argue, it would only prove her point.

So I just sat there. “I want you two to wait. I want Belly to finish school. When she graduates, if you two still feel the same way, do it then. But only after she graduates. If Beck was here, she’d agree with me.”

“I think she’d be really happy for us,” Jeremiah said.

Before my mother could contradict him, he added,

“Belly will still finish college on time, I can promise you that. I’ll take good care of her. Just give us your blessing.” He reached out and touched her hand and gave it a playful shake. “Come on, Laur. You know you’ve always wanted me for a son-in-law.”

My mother looked pained. “Not like this, hon. I’m sorry.”

There was a long, awkward pause. As the three of sat there, I could feel myself start to tear up. Jeremiah put his arm around me and clasped my shoulder, then he let go.

“Does this mean you aren’t coming to the wedding?”

I asked her.

Shaking her head, she said, “Isabel, what wedding? You don’t have the money to pay for a wedding.”

“That’s for us to worry about, not you,” I said. “I just want to know, are you coming?”

“I already gave you my answer. No, I won’t be there.”

“How can you say that?” I let out a breath, trying to keep calm. “You’re just mad that you don’t get a say in this. You don’t get a say in what happens, and it’s killing you.”

“Yes, it is killing me!” she snapped. “Watching you make such a stupid decision is killing me.”

My mother fixed her eyes on me, and I turned my head away from her, my knees shaking. I couldn’t listen to her anymore. She was poisoning our good news with all her doubts and negativity. She was twisting everything.

I stood up. “Then I’ll leave. You won’t have to watch anymore.”

Jeremiah looked startled. “Come on, Bells, sit down.”

“I can’t stay here,” I said.

My mother didn’t say a word. She just sat there, her back ramrod straight.

I walked out of the living room and up the stairs.

In my room I packed quickly, throwing a stack of T-shirts and underwear into a suitcase. I was throwing my toiletries bag on top of the heap when Jeremiah came into my room. He closed the door behind him.

He sat down on my bed. “What just happened?” he asked, still looking dazed.

I didn’t answer him, I kept packing.

“What are you doing?” he asked me.

“What does it look like?”

“Okay, but do you have a plan?”

I zipped up my suitcase. “Yes, I have a plan. I’m staying at the Cousins house until the wedding. I can’t deal with her.”

Jeremiah sucked in his breath. “Are you serious?”

“You heard her. She isn’t changing her mind. This is the way she wants it.”

He hesitated. “I don’t know… . What about your job?”

“You’re the one who told me I should quit. It’s better this way. I can plan the wedding better in Cousins than I can here.” I was sweating as I heaved up my suitcase.

“If she can’t get on board this train, then that’s too bad.

Because this is happening.”

Jeremiah tried to take the suitcase from me, but I told him not to bother. I lugged it down the stairs and to the car without a word to or from my mother. She didn’t ask where we were going, and she didn’t ask when I was coming back.