It makes that entire moment feel so different and charged with possibility. And then I see it in my mind, that moment where hesitation turns into determination. And I think he might have been getting ready to kiss me when my mom comes through the door. Instead of dropping his arms and stepping away, Bryce wraps his arms further around me and makes it look like he caught me in a stumble. “Too much to drink,” he says to my mom. “You should get her to bed.”
If that night had gone differently, would I still be driving this highway and fighting tears? Would we have gotten together and stayed together, damn the consequences? Would it have been a one-night thing that ended, sating both of our curiosity? Would we have been caught by my mother causing Bryce’s exile years before now?
There are so many questions, and I don’t know the answers to them. But getting caught up in the hypotheticals isn’t going to help me either. But I wish that I could change things. Still have Bryce in all my memories and parts of my life without him being my father’s best friend. Why did life have to be cruel like that? It just seems unfair.
I manage to find a radio station that doesn’t remind me entirely of Bryce, and listen to that for the duration of the drive to my parents’ house. This morning I texted my mother and told her that I was going to be coming up, and she was so happy that I might need to come up here more often simply to hear that smile in her voice.
It’s strange to note how the hedges have grown since I was here last. That alone tells me that I haven’t been here enough the past few years. Now that Bryce is out of the picture, coming here won’t nearly be as painful.
I mean, in one way it will, because if I see him, I’ll be reminded of what I can’t have. But by the same token, I won’t be in constant fear of ruining things. Can’t ruin things when I’ve already ruined them intentionally, you know?
When I pull up, my mom sees me out the window, and rushes out to meet me. She pulls me into a huge hug. It lasts for a long time. “It’s been way too long since I saw you last,” she says. “I need to come see you down in Boston. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mom. You are just as busy as I am. Maybe more.” My mother is the director of a large nonprofit that’s based here in Waterton. Honestly, for all her talk about me needing to hire somebody so I have free time, she rarely has any herself.
“Still,” she says, “I’m going to make an effort. It shouldn’t be all on you for us to see each other. I have a car, and I need to take the time.”
“Well,” I say, drawing out the word. “Ursula would really like to see you. She misses you.”
She beams at me. “It’s settled, then.” Helping me grab my bags from the car, Mom walks with me inside the house.
From across the open space, I hear a booming voice. “Is that my girl?”
“It is,” my mother says. “Get your ass over here and say hello.”
My father comes around the corner from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Hey, sweetie. I’m so glad to have you here.” He pulls me into a hug, and gives me a kiss on the temple that I lean into.
It’s weird how you miss your parents and don’t realize it. You think you’re fine, and then you see them and you realize what a big part of your life they are. Even when they’re not there. “Hi, Dad.”
“Your mother harangued to me into cooking on the barbecue,” he says. “But…I thought we might save that for later, and have one of our old traditional outings.”
I laugh. “You want to take me bowling?”
My dad grins. “Is that bad? Are you too old for burgers and bowling?”
I shake my head, and give him another long hug. “I’m never too old for burgers and bowling,” I say.
My mother rolls her eyes and pouts. “So you’re just going to leave me here alone?”
My father leans in and kisses my mother on the cheek. “Absolutely, dear. You’ll get to have her all to yourself tomorrow and the next day, I’m sure. But tonight, we’re going to have a father-daughter date. Just like we used to.”
My mother makes a face in protest, but she’s smiling too. “And what am I supposed to do with all the barbecue?”
“We can eat it for leftovers.” My dad shrugs. “In fact, I think we made enough that we’ll be eating it for the next couple of days anyway.” He turns to me “Do you need some time to get ready?”