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She’s talking about the three weeks I went with my childhood best friend and her family out to Plum Island to stay in a beachfront house. I got burned on the second day and spent most of the trip inside, returning home weeks later even paler than I’d been when I left.
“Well, as an adult, I’ve finally learned how to properly alternate between sun and shade, and I use the right amount of sunscreen,” I reply, slipping my shoes off and wrapping my arms around my favorite human in the world.
“I missed you, baby.”
“I missed you, too.”
She pulls back and looks at me, hands on my shoulders, then gives me a squeeze and heads into the kitchen.
“I made dumplings,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’ve been working my way through this book by one of those women on the cooking shows. It has about a million different types of dumplings, and these are my favorites so far.”
“Before we eat, can we talk?” I ask.
“If you just wait a few minutes, we can sit down and eat and talk. I have so many questions about your trip.”
She disappears into her tiny kitchen, and I decide ripping off the Band-Aid is the best approach right now to make sure this conversation happens.
“I went to see dad.”
The little sounds of movement from the kitchen stop, and a whole minute goes by before she rounds the corner and looks at me, her eyes wide and her skin pale.
“What?”
“My trip…it wasn’t to go to California with friends, even though that’s what I told you. I lied about that. I don’t have friends from California. Well, now I do, but I didn’t when I left. I flew out to visit Ken. I reached out to him online and told him I’d like to meet him, and he bought me a ticket, so I flew out there to try to get to know him. He lives in this little lake town called Cedar Point, and that’s where I’ve been. I’m sorry I lied to you about it, I was just nervous that you’d be upset with me for wanting to meet him when he abandoned us, and I didn’t want to let you down.”
My mother raises her hand, our agreed-upon symbol that means I need to actually take a breath and give her a moment to process everything I’ve said.
She’s been through quite a few of my rambling stories, some more serious than others. When I’m droning on and on about something stupid, she lets me ramble.
Clearly, this isn’t something stupid.
She takes a few steps over to the couch and sinks down, perching on the edge, her hands on her knees and her eyes on the carpet as she digests everything I’ve just said.
“You went to visit Ken.”
I nod.
She nods, too.
“How was it?”
“Horrible.”
Her head jerks back.
“But amazing. Well, I guess it was horrible and amazing, and then it was horrible again.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head, waving her hand out in front of her. “Wait, start from the beginning.”
Instead of confronting my mom about her lie straight out of the gate, I set that pain aside and remember that she’s my best friend. She’s someone who loves me and cares about what happened.
So I tell her everything, from meeting Boyd on the plane to arriving in Cedar Point and having Linda treat me like shit. Finding out Boyd was in Cedar Point and all the time I spent with him, minus the sexy bits. Then I talk about dinner with Ken and Linda, moving over to the Mitchell house, yelling at Ken, falling for Boyd, and leaving him behind.
By the time I’m done with the whole story, I’m crying my eyes out. God, I haven’t cried this much in a long time. Clearly, I’ve been in need of a good purge.
“Oh, sweetie,” she says, wrapping me in her arms and snuggling me close. “What a whirlwind this has all been for you.”
I nod, wishing I could have been strong enough to handle everything without getting too emotional or too involved.
