We were silent as we each enjoyed our frozen treat, Mom vacantly staring into space while occasionally making sounds of delight at her orange dessert. Her conversational transition was abrupt. “Would you be willing to share the letter that Cooper wrote to you?” she asked out of the blue. “I mean, if you feel okay about me knowing.”
“Where did that come from and what makes you think I’d even have the letter with me?” I asked, still stunned she’d brought the note up, let alone be curious about the contents.
“You wouldn’t come home without it, Michael. That letter is too important to you.”
“I just told you the letter existed the other day,” I defended. “Why do you want to see it?”
“For the sake of honesty, dear, I’ve seen the letter. Of course, I never read it because that would have violated your right to privacy, but you kept that piece of notebook paper near you for several months after Cooper died. I’ve seen you read it many times when you thought no one was around, so I guess I’m curious.”
I was embarrassed by her disclosure and felt the heat rising up on my face. The room was dim and only lit by a nightlight so I knew I was safe from her seeing my deep blush. “The letter was personal, Mom. I feel like I’d be violating his trust.”
“Can I ask something, honey?” she began, dragging the cold dessert across her lips. She licked the syrup and grinned at me. “Yummy,” she giggled, reminding me of the girl who was still inside the worn out physical being. She waited as I hesitated to respond. Maybe the wait was too much for a person that was counting down the minutes of their life. “Cooper was in love with you, wasn’t he?” she asked, practically telling me he’d been.
I could have denied her question, maybe told her she was losing it. But at that point, reality was what it was and I was done hiding from the fact that I had also been in love with him. “He told me the night before he died,” I confessed. “The letter was just letting me know that if I couldn’t love him that way, that he’d be okay with my decision,” I added for clarification.
“You didn’t know how he felt before?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“And you didn’t feel the same?”
“I kissed him the night before he died, Mom,” I confessed, choking up. “But I was too afraid to admit to myself what I was feeling for him. My feelings for him developed during our junior year but I hid it from him and from Jennifer.”
“Was it because of Dad and me, honey?” she asked. “We wouldn’t have been upset with your choices. I probably shouldn’t share this, but I secretly wished you two were a couple.”
“To be honest, I was afraid. I never recognized that the love I felt for him was more than my best friend. I didn’t understand how things would’ve worked for that kind of thing.”
“So, you never told him how you felt?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and thought of an answer that would make sense and explain my confusion. “Stupidly, I told him that night that Imightfeel the same way,” I began. “I actually saidmight, Mom. I couldn’t commit to the fact that I already knew how I felt about him.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry.”
I released a stifled sob before continuing. “He never knew, Mom. I didn’t have the strength to tell him I loved him too. I can’t tell you how long I’ve suffered over that night. I miss him and . . . and . . . I sometimes wished I’d died too.”
I was shocked I’d admitted the truth to her. Three weeks of counseling had finally gotten me to share the fact with my therapist, but this was my mother. I’d never revealed that I felt like every choice I’d made after Cooper’s death meant nothing to me. I was simply biding time and numbly living my life.
“Do you feel that way now?” she asked. “Because I’d worry for your safety if you did, Michael.”
“I’m not gonna lie, Mom. My life sucks right now, but I’m working hard on my feelings and I want you to know that you and Dad were the best parents to me. I never doubted you both loved me, but I’m battling a huge fear of being alone,” I admitted. “But no, I wouldn’t harm myself if that’syour worry. And I’m in therapy too.”
“Thank you, honey,” she whispered, focusing on me. “What if I had a solution?” she asked.
I laughed even though it may have seemed morbid considering her current state of health. “Does your solution include you sticking around? Because I could go for that big time, Mom,” I quipped.
“I’m going to swap,” she announced. “Dad and me for Cooper. How about that?”
I leaned closer and waved in her face. “Mom, are you in there?” I whispered.
“Stop it,” she shushed, batting at my hand. “I’m lucid. This is not the ranting of a dying woman,” she declared.
“You do realize that you sound like you’ve lost a marble or two?”
“What if I haven’t? What if I could make something fantastic happen? Would you listen?”
My shoulders sagged and I exhaled slowly. She’d lost it and didn’t know she’d lost it.
She sensed my resistance to her madness. “I’m not crazy, Michael. This is your mother and I am well aware of what I am talking about. End of discussion about my sanity,” she stated. “I need to know if you’re willing to listen to my plan?”
