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“Excuse me?”
“You know, walk a mile in each other’s shoes…”
She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks softly, “I think we both know that a man unwilling to bend is not worth the effort of trying to see things from his perspective.”
Her quiet words rob the breath from my lungs. My wild child lives life to the fullest and almost always leaps before she looks. But that does not mean she’s not thoughtful, or she’s obtuse. No, my baby sees everything. She’s observant to the point that I am so very thankful she was too young to remember the hell we lived in.
I set the batter bowl aside and turn to face her fully. Her blue eyes are the same icy color of her sire’s but that is the only trait of his she has, and I nearly died to make sure of it.
“My beautiful wildflower, you know that Wyatt is not one thing like the man who gave you to me or he would not be welcome in our lives or our home. Not to mention your Pops would have fed him to Bradley the bear.”
“This is true,” she says with a hesitant smile. “Although sometimes I’d like to feed him to Bradley.”
“I’m aware.” I roll my eyes and go back to my batter bowl. I drop health dollops into the pan and hear them sizzle.
I flip the pancakes and Merritt’s unnaturally quiet voice breaks the silence. “Why do you think he hates me so much?” she asks. I know for a fact the hate filled emotions are at the very most one-sided. My tough but tenderhearted girl likes the man who may not reciprocate her feelings.
I’m not really sure how to proceed here. You think babies are hard work, but things will get easier, only to find that the development of mobility and fine motor skills brings out a sassy attitude in toddlers. And, again, you think it can only get easier. But then the teen hormones set in, and you wonder if one of you won’t live to see the whole thing through. When the ringing in your ears goes away and they graduate and move on you think this is it, but that’s all bullshit. Broken hearts and adult feelings are tricky waters to navigate.
Merritt might be wild but she keeps most of her emotions even keeled. And she hasn’t added to the number of names I answer to like her sister did when she made me a grandmother. Not that I would trade Brenna for anything in the world. The sun rises and sets with her as far as I’m concerned.
Motherhood has been tough but it’s tougher still with mostly adult children. I wish I knew what to do but at her age I was married with babies and my own mother wouldn’t answer the door to me. How am I supposed to know what a healthy relationship should look like at this stage? The best I can do is shoot from the hip and love my girls unconditionally, no matter what.
I choose my words carefully, “I’m not exactly sure that he doesn’t like you,” I reply cautiously.
“What do you mean?” she asks, tipping her head to the side to study me the same way she did as a toddler.
“It means sometimes passions run deeper than we realize—” I start, stopping when she busts up laughing.
“Mom.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s about as funny as your condom on the banana speech in high school,” she laughs.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Not with Audrey.” She smirks.
“Well…”
“Besides,” she starts. “I’d already lost it to Bobby Ford behind the old diner.”
“Merritt Hope!” I snap.
“What?” she shrugs. “He was hot, and Hannah Smith said he had a huge—”
“No more talking about things!” I yell as I drop a plate of pancakes on the counter in front of her.
My tirade only makes my rotten daughter laugh even harder. “Now what’s got you so distracted, Mamacita?”
“Nothing,” I mumble, wondering when she became the adult in this scenario.
“It couldn’t have anything to do with the hot British TV host, could it?” she asks. “I bet he has a huge—”
“He asked me out, all right?” I snap, not wanting to hear about anything huge. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about a man, let alone seen one.
“He did now, did he?” she asks, sitting back in her seat with a smug smile on her face. “Way to go, sis.”
