Brooklyn.
It made sense. There were limited opportunities for her in Cedar Falls. That she was researching, and obviously excited about the possibility of leaving… I was such an idiot to think there was any possibility she might want to stay here.
Could I go with her?
I never imagined a life anywhere but Cedar Falls. More importantly, she hadn’t even asked for that.
Putting a smile on my face, I joined Mae’s father, pretending all was well. Pretending the woman I loved wasn’t slipping through my fingers.
38
MAE
“I love it. This is so exciting. But you need to eat.”
I reached for a handful of popcorn when my mother slapped my hand.
“Real food.”
“But it’s white cheddar,” I protested.
“Regardless. Take a break. You’ve been working since we got home. Your dad went down to the bar. Should we join him and grab some dinner?”
I gave her a look as my mother wiped the kitchen table for the hundredth time today.
“I can’t eat popcorn but chicken fingers and fries is perfectly acceptable?”
“So much sass since you went to France,” she teased. “I haven’t had a chance to go to the store yet. Where do you want to eat?”
Not the bar.
Since last night, my mind was in overdrive. About Beck. About my future. As much as I wanted to see him… to text him… I held off. A day or two away would be a good way to clear my head.
I glanced at my laptop. “What if we get takeout?”
My mother looked at the laptop as if it were going to bite her. “You need a break from that thing. It’ll hurt your eyes, staring at that little screen all day.”
“Jules is screwed then,” I mumbled. As a writer, she pretty much spent her life staring at a little screen.
“How is Jules?” my mother asked, sitting down for the first time all afternoon.
“Good. Just grinding away, living the dream.” Actually that wasn’t exactly true. “I’m trying to convince her to send her manuscript to an agent but she’s terrified, for some reason.”
“I would imagine she’s put pieces of her into that story she’s been working on for so many years. That has to be a scary, and very vulnerable, thing to do. Sharing it.”
My mother, very much an older version of me, always said the wisest things. I thought maybe it was from meeting so many people throughout the years, collecting wisdom from them. Or maybe it was from her mother. Unfortunately, my grandmother had died before I was born. I wish I could have gotten to know her.
“Speaking of scary.” I looked at the open page on my screen. “How do I know if I’m making the right decision?”
Mom sighed. “You asked me the same question when you went off to France. And again when you got engaged and decided to stay. Do you remember what I told you?”
I thought back to both of those instances. “That I could only make the best decision that felt right in my gut. Whether it was right or wrong remained to be seen. And at least one of them turned out to be the wrong one. Did you know that at the time and just not tell me?”
My mother reached for my hand. It was more wrinkled than I remembered, reminding me that our time together wasn’t infinite.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t tell you. Did I think your engagement to Mathieu was quick? Yes. Did I worry about you? And want you to come home instead? Of course. But I also raised you to think for yourself. Be your own woman. Not a carbon copy of me. So it didn’t work out. And what happened?”
I made a sound of disgust. “My life was upended. My heart was broken.”
