“I don’t understand where all of this risk taking and boy chasing is coming from,” my mother counters with exasperation. “You’ve always been very independent. Now this boy just shows back up in your life, decides he wants you, and you’re just going to throw your life away to, what, chase him across the country while he does his music?”
I blink at her, taking in what she’s saying. I didn’t expect her response to be anything different, but it still strikes me. I could let it roll off my shoulders, but her opinion does matter to me.
“I don’t know what I can say to convince you that I know what I’m doing,” I sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t see it as throwing my life away. In fact, covering Catastrophically Charismatic as they prepare to sign their first major record deal is actually helping my career. You’re right, yes, I’ve always been careful, independent. But honestly, what I really wanted was for someone to come and sweep me off my feet, show me a different life, and Grayson did that. Just because you didn’t want to spread your wings after Dad left doesn’t mean I can’t want that for myself.”
I watch her face pinch at the mention of my father. We don’t talk about him much, and my sisters and I know it’s not the button to push unless we want to trigger a Code Red situation.
“Mia, I…” my mother begins. “I just don’t want you to be blindsided like I was. I do want you to be happy. If this is really what you think will make you happy, then I can… I can try to accept it.”
“He was married when we reconnected, Mom,” I blurt. “He didn’t leave his wife to be with me, but I would be lying if I said that seeing me again didn’t help move the process along.”
My admission that I’ve been dreading since before I walked in the door doesn’t seem to shock her much. My mother looks past me through the windows that have a clear view to Grayson’s house and once I see why, I know that she hasn’t heard a thing I said.
“Is that Angela?” my mother says, rising from her spot on the couch. “My God, that’s Angela!”
Chapter twenty
"Off I Go" - Greg Laswell
Grayson
My mother’s house looks exactly the way that I remembered it, although the wood of the porch has aged and the paint has faded. It seems to give the house more character.
Mia had told me she would’ve gone inside with me, that she could visit her own mother across the street after, but I know this is something I need to do alone.
What does my mother look like now?
Her hair is probably graying, and her face has likely wrinkled. She’ll be frail, from the wear of the cancer on her already small frame; her voice on the phone had conveyed that to me.
I hadn’t called back to let her know that I was coming. I didn’t want to make promises I might talk myself out of. But here I am, taking another deep breath before I knock on the door.
The woman who answers has my mother’s eyes, but that’s about the only thing I recognize. She looks broken, physically and emotionally.
I can’t help but think,I did this… part of this is my fault.
A thin, bony hand clasps around my wrist, as if she’s making sure I’m really standing in front of her.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” she says quietly. “When I didn’t hear from you after we spoke on the phone, I thought you’d decided not to.”
“I’m here, Mom,” I reply, my voice shaking.
She stands up straighter, composing herself, before she lets me inside.
The house is a mess, but that isn’t what surprises me. As we walk through the foyer through the halls of my childhood home, there are so many things that look exactly how I remembered them. Mine and Johanna’s childhood photos still line the walls, but there are also framed magazine covers from Johanna’s modeling and Catastrophically Charismatic’s album covers.
When we get to the living room, all of the band’s physical albums and any record I’ve ever been featured on sit next to the old record player, right next to my father’s albums and the old piano, just like Johanna had said.
“She wasn’t kidding,” I chuckle lightly to myself. “They’re all really here.”
“Of course they are,” my mother says. “As angry as I was at your father for always putting his music career before me, beforeour family, I was always proud of him. Just like I’ve always been proud of you. I’m sorry that I never told you that.”
“You had so many opportunities to reach out after I left. You didn’t even try to stop me from going,” I sigh. “What stopped you? Johanna says you’ve come to shows, yet I’ve heard nothing until now. We could’ve had years, Mom.”
She takes in a ragged breath as she finds a place on the couch, looking pensively in no particular direction. Her eyes finally meet mine.
“Grayson,” she begins. “You made it very clear the day that you left. You said if I couldn’t support you, you didn’t want me in your life. I didn’t know how to do that. I was still grieving your father. I was scared. Watching you chase the same dream that took him away from me… I couldn’t bear it. But you're right—I should’ve called. I should’ve been there. And baby, you would’ve gone whether I had tried to stop you or not.”
There it is.
