Patty doesn’t move a muscle.
A pretty woman in her late 50s is clutching a large duffel bag, with a worn rolling suitcase behind her.
In light makeup—mascara, a little blush and concealer—and jeans with a simple black sweater, she looks both younger and older than she did after the game in Springfield. More tired, but less burdened.
Tears pool in her eyes.
She smiles at me, but her attention is fixed on Patty.
“Hi, my boy,” she says to him.
Patty’s arm around me tightens, his fingers twitching at my waist. “What are you doing here, Mom?”
“What I should have done years ago,” she says, clutching the strap around her shoulder. “I’m telling you ….” Her chin quivers, and she wrings her hands, squeezing the strap tighter. But then she holds her head up higher, even as she flexes her hands to stop wringing them.
“I’ve hurt this family a lot, so I understand if you ain’t ready to trust me.” She inhales deeply. “But I’m done chasing dreams that’ll forget about me. I’m coming home.”
She sounds so sincere, but I can feel Patty’s reluctance in the way his fingers dig into my hip, the way his breath hitches before his voice hardens.
“Mom, Dad just had surgery. He needs round-the-clock help. This probably isn’t the best time for you to try to make a sweeping change.”
“It’s the perfect time.”
It’s not Cheyenne who says this, though.
It’s Danny.
Sean has wheeled him into the entry and is wearing a hopeful look on his face.
But Danny’s expression is firm. Unwavering.
“Boys, your mother and I have been talking for months,” Danny says to Patty and then to Sean. “We’ve had a lot of hard conversations.” The corner of his mouth raises. “And a lot of good ones. She’s asked to come back home, and I believe this time will be different.”
“It will be,” Cheyenne says quickly. “I get it now. I see things differently. And I’m sorry,” she adds tearfully. “I’m so sorry.” She looks down, staring at her feet like the shame ofher past weighs too much for her to hold up her head. “Patty, I’ve apologized to your dad and Sean a lot over the last several months?—”
Patty whips his head to Sean, who shrugs unapologetically.
“—but I haven’t had the chance to tell you how sorry I am. I abandoned you when things got hard all your life, but especially after your accident. I told myself I was no good for you. I told myself this was my way of helping. I’d never proven myself at anything, never been a good mother. And then, when you needed me most, I was too busy making it about me and my fears to realize I was missing the most important part.”
“Which was?” Patty asks.
“You.” She gestures to each of them. “All of you. Chasin’ dreams was easier than admitting I was a failure. Not just at the music. At being a wife. A mother. I want a chance to make things right.”
Patty’s mouth flattens, his lips almost paper-thin as his mom takes a step forward.
Her chin trembles. “Can you forgive me?”
I look up to see him frown, but his body isn’t so tense now.
“I don’t know,” he says. I feel his eyes on me, and I look up to meet them. “But I’m willing to give it a try.”
He may as well have said yes for the smile it puts on her face.
The tears in her eyes slip down her face as she beams. “That’s more than I could ever ask for.”
And then, Patty exhales sharply, his throat working around something unsaid. “I’m glad you’re trying, Mom,” he says, his voice rough but real. “That matters.”
Sean looks at me with wide eyes, and we both grin at each other.
