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As we walk closer to the buffet-style spread, prepared on the counter, I notice the few people standing behind, waiting to serve us.
“Wow, Mom. You called a caterer? I didn’t think this dinner was that fancy.” I chuckle.
Every one of them, including my mother, look at me with a mixture of confusion, awkwardness, and a hint of sympathy. Unsure as to why they are looking at me this way, I just shake my head. Ignoring something is easy, unlike admitting when you have a problem. I don’t want to answer questions that make me face my own demons. It makes me want to disappear within myself, but my mother’s voice brings me back.
“Of course, I did, sweetheart. This is a special meal, and I wanted to do something to celebrate." My mother smiles timidly at me while the first waiter plops a scoop of mashed potatoes on each of our plates.
“So, about that man over there,” she nods towards my father and Tyr. Their conversation in the corner is looking uncomfortable for just hushed voices. They both are glancing occasionally at me with the same look of sympathy as the caterers had. I’m already planning on asking Tyr about it. “Obviously, more happened than what you told me and your father.”
"Mom," I start to ask her why she’s being incessant on the subject, but she cuts me off. She has only asked me about him a million times since I was discharged. Each answer of mine leads me back to here.
"Don't 'mom' me. I may not be your best friend, but you will always be my baby girl. So tell me. What makes this man look at you like you align the planets just for him? It’s kind of…." She trails off.
I blush a rosy shade of red. I don’t think I’ve noticed before how he looks at me. I fiddle with my hands while the second waiter scoops up another one of the appetizers for me.
"I don't even really know where to start. Things were scary and bad, and then he came in. I didn't realize that it was him at first, but I did later. He stayed by my side, he held my hand through everything… he, um…" I tell him embarrassed. My mother stops to look at me, giving me her undivided attention. "He, uh…” I glance uneasily at the people behind the counter. “He even took my virginity," I whisper into her ear.
Mom doesn't make it seem like it’s a good or bad thing. She sets her partially filled plate on the edge of the counter and turns her entire body towards me. She pulls me by the shoulders and gives me a warm embrace.
"Oh, honey. It makes so much more sense now! Thank you for finally telling me some sort of truth!" I exhale as she lets me go, returning to her plate and picking up where she left off. The way she accepts just that small answer and doesn't continue to question me is a little bothersome. What does she even mean by ‘some sort of truth’? What does she think really happened to me? Does she know something I don’t?
"Hey ladies, how's everything going?" Tyr walks towards me and leans onto the counter next to us. His elbows slightly hang off the edge. He and my father have finally caught up with us.
"We’re just about finished, dear. We’ll meet you at the table." My mother extends a quick smile to him as we carry our filled plates to the dining room. My mom turns to me and smiles. "I think we need to have a conversation after dinner about you being with him. All four of us."
Are You Sure?
After watching the game, we all sit in our respective seats. My father is in his Lay-Z-Boy recliner, hunched over with his arms resting on his thighs. My mother is on the arm of his chair, one arm lying on the backrest, and one hand holding a glass of what looks like wine. Tyr and I are sitting on the small couch across from them. His leg and my leg press up against each other, the slight friction heightening my nerves.
"Is this what you want, Nova? Are you ready to take on this much responsibility?" Dad looks at me with sincerity written all over his face.
"Yes. I've thought about it a lot since he asked me. I know it's really soon, and in reality, you don’t know him, but this is what I want. It feels right." I look at both my parents, urging them to see how I feel from my facial expression. Still, neither of them seem entirely convinced.
"I made a promise to Nova when we were in that…predicament that I would never let anyone treat her that way again– that I wouldn't let her go. Being away from her, even for only a few weeks, has been rough. I think we can both benefit from being together, and I know we can both heal the way our bodies and minds need to. I just want to prove to her that this world isn't always horrible," Tyr informs them.
"Well, honey, you're old enough to know what you want. If this is what you legitimately want, what kind of parents would we be to stop you?" My mother replies, moving her hand to rub my father's back.
I smile at them both. It looks like I’m packing my things and moving in with Tyr.
Their shared looks of concern should make me wary.
Relocating all of my things isn't hard. I didn't have to take my dresser, bed, or any of my furniture. I did take my books, even though they’ve been sitting on the shelf. They are dusty and unread; I just haven't had the right mentality to sit down and read anything. Reading about trauma and living it are just too similar.
I have a few other things to bring that are special to me, like the beaded crystal glass ornaments that I plan on hanging in our bedroom window. They make a beautiful array of colors when the sunlight hits them, projecting tiny rainbows across the surrounding area. I usually hate colors, but something about the combination of them makes me feel true peace. Rainbows come out when the sky cries. Why shouldn’t I have rainbows when I want them?
I boxed up my small collection of coffin-shaped jewelry boxes that are made of black glass and clay. They hold all the little dingey trinkets that I would find and shove in my bra when I was out and about.
The best thing inside my favorite box happens to be a sliver of the swizzle stick that we’d used on Roger. Shimmering and shiny, unlike how I feel, it sits inside the box. I know it will stay there until I feel peace within myself, then I will bury it. Just as I will my feelings.
My clothes and shoes are the last things to be shoved in the duffel bag Tyr carries for me. We stand in the driveway next to my father's car, giving hugs and saying goodbye.
"Dad, it's not like I'm moving to college or three states away. I'm just going to the other side of town. Stop crying, and stop looking at Tyr like he’s never going to let me come home." I hold my father tight, squeezing his ribs in a bear hug like he used to do to me all the time.
"I know, baby girl. I know. I'm just going to miss picking on you all the time. I won't be able to ask you to take off my socks and then smell my feet."
"Ew, Dad! I haven't done that since I was a kid!" I look at Tyr, making sure he isn’t trying to escape without me. He’s bent over laughing hysterically, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "I told you my family was crazy."
Tyr stops laughing and shakes my parents’ hands once more. "They aren't crazy, they’re normal. Just what I said we needed."
