We’ve unloaded all of my stuff from my car and Kit’s van.Kit and Morgan had to duck out to get to their respective jobs, leaving us to unbox things.
Us and my parents, who arrived about fifteen minutes ago.Dad’s pulling hangers of clothes from one of those wardrobe boxes and putting them in the closet of the bedroom.Not all of it is going to fit, but that’s fine.Eventually I’ll cull my work clothes since I’ll be working remotely more often, but I’ll still need outfits for when I do go into the office or travel.
I go to check on my mom in the kitchen, Hunter and Silas right behind me, and catch her throwing something into the trash can.
“Mom, stop throwing stuff away.I already cleaned out what I don’t want to keep.”
She shows me the package of marshmallows, as if I don’t know exactly what I packed for my move.“Honey, you shouldn’t be eating this kind of junk.Especially now that you’re out here.The closest gym is half an hour away, you’ll never burn that weight off if you keep eating like this.”
Hunter’s jaw tightens, and he and Silas exchange a look.We’d already had A Talk about how we were going to handle my parents with me moving back, and I’d told them both to leave it to me.And my therapist.
I take the bag from Mom.“I am an adult and I make my own decisions about what I eat.”
“Don’t act like that.I just want you to be healthy.”
“Iamhealthy.And if you can’t see that, then we’re not going to spend time together.”
Mom reels back like I’ve slapped her.“What does that mean?”
“That means that if you say anything negative about my eating or my body—or yours—one of us is leaving.”
Mom huffs and acts put out, but she stops throwing my things away.They leave not long after, and as soon as the door shut on their asses, Hunter whoops and squeezes me so hard my back pops.
“Fuck yeah!Youtoldher.”Hunter sets me down and ninja-chops the air.“It’s called setting boundaries, Mom.You can shove it.”
Silas also sweeps me into a hug, this one with a big, smacking kiss.“I’m so proud of you.How did that feel?”
“Good,” I say, nodding.“Better than I thought it would.”My therapist and I have talked about what I really fear when I accept the things my mom says, and I came to the realization that I feared she would stop loving me.But I wondered if she ever worried thatIwould stop lovingherwhen she says those things.
I also am learning that loving myself is more important, and that I can still love my mom, even if I didn’t allow her to behave that way around me anymore.Or evenbearound me anymore.
We get back to work, and sometime around six Silas declares we’ve unpacked enough for the night and we need to go celebrate.We follow Hunter to his house, where he pops in to feed Raven, and we leave our car parked so we can enjoy the nice early June evening weather with a walk.
It’s really lovely out.Sunny and crisp, a bite in the air.It’s the kind of day that would draw New Yorkers out to the parks en masse even though it’s still chilly.It’s about a twenty-minute walk from Hunter’s to the bar, and we pass Kinnara and Chapter & Song.We wave at Tuan, who’s serving customers outside, and stop to see what Whitney has picked for the upcoming book club.
I can’t believe I’m a Herevian again.Or maybe I never stopped being a Herevian.
We turn down the road that leads to Sirens Valley Lodge and walk past the first parking lot.In winter, when the mountain’s open, this lot is full of skiers unloading their gear, pulling on layers, and scarfing food on tailgating snack breaks.Now it’s empty, the gravel pockmarked with puddles from yesterday’s rain.
The roar of a motorcycle approaches.Silas puts his hand to my back and guides me to be on his other side so he’s between me and the vehicle.The three of us watch as the motorcycle pulls up right ahead of us into a spot right by the front door of On the Rocks.I don’t know anything about motorcycles, but this one’s dark and fast-looking.The driver is in all black—black pants, black leather jacket, black boots.There’s even two braids of black hair coming out of the bottom of the helmet.
The engine cuts off and the rider dismounts, aggressively removing their helmet and beating us to the stairs going up to the entrance.She casts us a quick glance over her shoulder—dark eyes and a frown—before stomping up ahead of us.She throws open the door and when we finally climb the stairs and get in ourselves, she’s pulling up a seat at the bar and barking at Morgan.
“What’s on tap?”
He looks at her wide-eyed.And then he smiles, slow and charming.“I haven’t seen you around here before.”
Hunter, Silas, and I exchange glances.We were going to order food and play darts, but by unspoken agreement, we take barstools a few seats down from the motorcyclist.Close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough to stay out of the firing zone, hopefully.Plus, On the Rocks has a handy mirror on the wall behind Morgan running the length of the bar.It gives me the perfect view to watch the woman roll her eyes.
“I’ve already been pissed off once today by someone sticking their nose in my business,” she says.She leans in, eyes blazing.“Go ahead.Try me.”
Morgan’s smile only grows.“Jesus,” Hunter mutters next to me.
“What kind of beer do you like?”Morgan asks her.
“Pale ales.Hefeweizen.I’ll take a Sierra Nevada if you have it but I swear to god, if you put an orange slice in it I’ll make you regret it.”
Morgan leans over and opens the reach-in cooler, plucking out a bottle I recognize.“Try this.”He rips the cap off and plunks the bottle on the bar top.
