My dad nods his head and pats my shoulder as I take the empty seat at the white-clothed table. “We’re looking forward to you being here permanently.”
The first couple of years that my mom was gone were hard for me as I didn’t understand where she went and why I wasn’t seeing her anymore. Trying to sort through that type of trauma was difficult for my child mind to comprehend. I couldn’t accept that my mom left and was probably never coming back.
My dad worked a lot, but my grandparents stepped in to take care of me. Only a few years later, my dad and Terri started dating. It was just before I turned six. They knew each other from work and slowly developed a relationship.
She was kind, warm, and caring—we bonded right away. She and my dad never had any kids together, and I was their whole world. It was only after I became an adult that I found out that they’d tried for a few years to get pregnant, but unfortunately, it never happened. If it bothered them, they never let on that it did.
Terri loved me and I was hers.
Even though she and I had a very close mother-son relationship, it was hard to move past the nightmares that still plagued my sleep. I felt completely fulfilled growing up, but that day still continues to haunt me. How could my mother just abandon me like that? Didn’t she love me?
For years, I believed that something must have been wrong with me, that my own mom didn’t want me. Even now, as a grown man, I’m still living with the belief that I’m not goodenough and that one day when I finally fall in love, she will eventually leave me—just like my mother did. Or leave her kids, the kids that we could possibly share together.
As we all take our seats, I let out a depleted sigh. “Yes, I’m exhausted and ready to just be settled.”
During dinner, I give them updates on the progress of the restaurant and the new house, and I complain about having to pile my stuff into a storage unit and live in an empty condo for the next few months while they gush about their recent travels and share food off each other’s plates like they haven’t been married for twenty years.
Clearly, my parents are enjoying early retirement.
“Are you sure you don’t mind that we’re going to Bora Bora for Thanksgiving?” my dad asks, twirling his pasta with his fork.
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“Okay, because if you did, we wouldn’t go,” he says.
I laugh, shoving a bite of lasagna into my mouth. “Dad, it’s fine. Have fun.”
“Great,” he answers quickly before jumping into his next thought. “So, we’re staying in an over-the-water bungalow at one of those all-inclusive resorts. It looks incredible from the photos.” He takes another bite and continues, “And because of the time of year we’re going, we got a screaming deal.”
“It’s going to be so romantic.” Terri glances over at my dad with a smile on her face.
My dad smiles back, leaning in to snuggle her nose.
I grimace. “Seriously you two, keep it together. We’re in a restaurant.”
They both laugh, separating themselves like it’s a struggle. “Are you going to be spending it with one of your many lady friends?” Terri asks, trying not to come across sarcastically.
I roll my eyes. “Nope. I’ll probably end up working. We’ve never really been big Thanksgiving people anyway. I don’t knowwhy you guys are worried about me being alone now,” I say, taking a sip of the expensive red wine that they purchased for us to share.
Terri rubs her lips together and sets down her fork. “You’ve never really had any serious girlfriends. We’d love to eventually see you with someone long term. Do you think now that you’ll be settled out here in Arizona, that you’ll start thinking about dating someone more seriously?”
“I don’t think so. I’m happy by myself, and I get to come and go as I want.”
“You don’t think about sharing your life with someone?” Terri asks, her eyes soft.
“I don’t have to share anything. And you know us only children prefer to be alone anyway.” The side of my lip curves up while I shoot her a side-eye.
My dad chuckles and wipes his face off with the white-cloth napkin. “We can take a hint. We’ll get off your back about it.”
“So kind of you,” I snicker, taking a bite of my overpriced steak that’s barely edible. “I head back to Burbank this week to officially move out of my apartment.”
“That’s great,” my stepmom says.
“Yeah, so the plan is for the movers to arrive in the morning, then once everything is packed and they’re on their way out here, I’ll catch a flight out in the afternoon. When they arrive, we’ll meet first at the storage unit, then the condo.”
“Your car was shipped here last week. Do you need a ride from the airport?” my dad asks, puckering his forehead and leading me to believe that his question is more of a statement.
“I was just going to take a rideshare to my condo, but from the look on your face, I can tell you want to pick me up,” I say.
