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“Hey,” I said to her after we crossed the street. I sounded like a sullen asshole. Which was exactly how I felt. “Did you want something?”
My mother frowned at me. “Goodness, someone is cranky.” She had Camp in a stroller and was seated on a bench spooning ice cream into his mouth. He was waving his fists and kicking his feet.
I crossed my arms across my chest without even meaning to.
“I’m Lorraine,” she said to Sophie. “Cain’s mother.”
Because yeah, I was a dick who hadn’t done introductions. “Mom, this is Sophie,” I interjected, angry, but still capable of being ashamed of my behavior.
“Nice to meet you,” Sophie said, reaching out and offering her hand to my mother.
“You too, sweetie.” My mother beamed, which made me roll my eyes. “I’ve heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with my Cain.”
Was there anything more irritating than your mother using a possessive with your given name in front of the girl you’re fucking? Nope. Nothing.
“Oh,” Sophie said, giving a nervous laugh like she wasn’t sure what to say.
Because who the hell knew what to say to that?
“So you’re in college? You must be a smart girl.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and spooned another bit of ice cream into Camp’s mouth.
Holy shit, this was going from bad to worse.
“I am,” Sophie said.
That made me grin briefly. It always cracked me up when she refused to bow to social conventions and pretend to be demure.
“Well, then, maybe a smart girl like you can fix Cain.”
Amusement gone. I glared at my mother. “I’m not a fucking broken lawnmower. I don’t need a mental mechanic.”
“Watch your mouth in front of the baby.”
I was feeling ugly and I didn’t appreciate her reprimanding me in front of Sophie. “Yeah, well, at some point he is going to have to learn his mother is a whore.”
It takes a lot to piss my mother off. I mean, like a veritable shit ton. But she was as fiercely protective of Camp as she had been of us when we were kids and people around town had trash-talked my father and our family.
So I can’t say I was exactly surprised when she set the ice cream cup down and stood up to face me. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, sounding genuinely puzzled and hurt. “You of all people should know how it feels to have the sins of a parent put on an innocent child.”
She was significantly shorter than I was but I instantly felt small. She was right. I knew that feeling all too well. I was about to apologize but she turned to Sophie.
“Sometimes I think there is no fixing this one,” she said. “Be careful, Sophie.”
That was worse than a slap in the face. My mother always believed in me. She never doubted for one minute that I could recover and move on and be an awesome human being. That she might just have thrown in the proverbial towel on me shocked the hell out of me.
“Take care,” she said, reaching back and grabbing the ice cream cup. She unlocked the stroller wheels and pushed Camp down the sidewalk, away from us.
I didn’t know what to say to Sophie. I didn’t know what to feel. Sophie didn’t speak either and I couldn’t look at her.
“I need a drink,” I said finally when the silence drew out, painful and weighted.
All she said was, “I know.”
So we walked to the bar and her silence was almost as comforting as the whiskey bottles lined up behind the countertop.
—
I don’t know how to comfort anyone. Not really. But my silence—because I had no clue what to say to Cain—seemed to be exactly what he needed. Yet, it still made me feel hopelessly inadequate. I couldn’t do what his mother had asked of me and fix him. But I could be his friend. His lover. His no-judgment drinking buddy.
