“It’s adorable,” she cooed, walking around. “Perfect for a short stay.”
“Yep.”
“How’s your head?” She picked up a couch pillow and fluffed it before placing it back.
“Fine.”
“Are you sure, because I can sleep here if you want. I don’t mind a couch.”
“I’ll be fine,” I insisted curtly.
She raised her thin brows. “Are you sure? Because?—”
“Yes.” My tone was even sharper this time.
My mom took a step back as if I’d physically slapped her or something. She cleared her throat before shaking her head. “I’m not understanding all this hostility.” I could hear the hurt in her voice, masked by frustration.
“Come on. I’m not being hostile.” My head fell back with impatience. “Weren’t we going to check out the town?” I asked, walking to the door and holding it open.
Ignoring my mother’s phone calls were one thing. Having her standing in my space, openly addressing the cold way I had been treating her was another thing entirely. I couldn’t take this. Especially not the day after a head injury.
“I don’t want to cramp your style,” she whispered, walking past me and reaching out to pat my chest. It was a clear sign of defeat. “Maybe I’ll eat at the hotel and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “No, Ma. Don’t do that.”
Her eyes searched my face. I wondered what they found there.
“I know when I’m not wanted,” she said.
“I want you here,” I insisted, although I knew my complicated feelings were displaying anything except that notion.
She shook her head. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
My gut churned when I saw the tears forming in her eyes.
“You never take my calls anymore,” she continued. “Your visits are growing scarcer and scarcer. I’m not stupid, Ollie. I know you’re pushing me away.”
I sighed deeply and reached out to grab her arm, keeping her from stepping out the door. My avoidance tactics could only get me so far, and I was clearly at the end of my rope here. I needed to speak my truth as best as I could.
“Can you sit down for a minute?” I asked, walking over to the small kitchen table and pulling out a seat. I sat and waited for her. Thankfully, my mom obliged without resistance, shutting the front door and joining me at the table.
“What’s going on with you, Oliver?” she finally asked.
Anxiousness coiled in my chest as I prepared to finally let the spring loose.
“First off, I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you.”
“I knew it.”
“It’s because I don’t know how to talk to you—to clear the air.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but she seemed to think better of it. For the first time, I wondered if she’d been expecting this conversation.
“I think you know that Nathan and I have grown close the past couple of years. Closer than we’ve ever been.”
“Right,” she said softly.
“Well, it’s bringing up a lot of shit from growing up, and I don’t really know how to handle it, if I’m being honest.”
