The Boyfriend Blog

“Yeah, well, I’m not Calvin.”

I cringe remembering how harsh I was, and I have no idea why. I wasn’t a bad kid growing up—I rarely got in trouble—but Dad is right, I had a chip on my shoulder. I was an independent kid, an angry teen, and a wild young adult. Now, it’s time I mend some fences that I inadvertently broke.

“Excuse me,” I say to Dad.

He nods and claps my back as I stride across the dance floor. One slow song rolls into the next, and when I stop in front of my mom and hold out my hand, her eyes widen.

“May I have this dance?”

She blinks as though she can hardly believe what’s happening, and eventually nods. “Sure. I mean, yes. Yes, I would love to dance with you.”

Lizzie catches my eye and winks when I lead my mom to the dance floor. Mom keeps a good foot between us and rests her hand stiffly on my shoulder as though she’s scared to touch me. I cup her free hand in mine, but it too is stiff and cold.

I did this. I slowly created this rift over several years without even realizing it.

“The wedding was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Mom says, looking around, her eyes landing on everyone in the room except me.

“Thanks to you.”

She startles and looks at me. “I didn’t do much.”

“That’s not what Calvin told me. He said you helped them plan most of it—you even drove two hours to pick up some decorations that Millie had to have.”

“That’s what moms are for.”

“Maybe someday you’ll help me plan my wedding,” I blurt.

Mom blinks. A smile starts to form on her lips, but never really makes it. Her eyes dart to Lizzie, and I know there are probably a million questions she wants to ask, but she keeps it bottled up inside.

“Lizzie and I are dating.”

“You are?” That almost-smile is back again, this time, it stands strong, but I still want more.

“Yup. I finally pulled my head out of my ass and realized what was staring me right in the face all these years.”

“I’m happy for you,” she says, not asking a single question. Damn, she’s a tough nut to crack.

“She made me work for it, but I wore her down.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of our girl.”

Our girl. Now, we’re getting somewhere. “You approve?”

Her brown eyes study mine. “Of course, I do. Lizzie is wonderful and absolutely perfect for you. How did…?” Mom’s words trail off, and then she shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“No, ask me. Please.”

“Okay. How did her parents take the news?”

“Christine was happy. Marcus threatened to bury me in the back yard.”

Mom barks out a laugh. “That sounds like Marcus. But he’d have to get through me first.”

“Yeah?”

Mom looks at me, a sheen of moisture in her eyes as she nods.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you over the years. I love you, Mom.” I stop dancing and pull her in for a tight hug. We probably look weird standing in the middle of the dance floor hugging, but this hug is way overdue, and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.