The entry is now a gallery of her photos, and the hallway is lined with framed artwork. I hadn’t realized how bland this apartment was until her vivid personality filled it with color and made it a home. I’ve never been one for clutter, but I come to enjoy finding random items appear here or there, then they’re gone, replaced by another, or the surface is left bare.
Sosie can hardly keep her eyes open, so this erection will get attention tonight when she gets home from work. I take the wide fabric strap from around her neck and slip it off to set her camera on the nightstand. She moves into position, snuggling against me as if seeking warmth, her breathing deepening already a sign of her sweet slumber.
How did I get this life?
I hustled to get out of the neighborhood I grew up in. Right time, right place to meet the professor to get a shot at university, then spent years pouring my emotions, that had nowhere else to go, into the pages of a book releasing in a few months.But this . . .Her. I hold her closer wanting to feel her heat, her heartbeats, and hear the rhythm of her breathing. In a city of eight million people, how was I fortunate enough to find my soulmate?
That’s the only thing I couldn’t control or create my way into, but damn, did I luck out.
She shifts, and the sheet slips off her hip, revealing that freckle I’ll never get enough of. I thought about it more times than would be considered healthy. Maybe it’s because the only way to see it is when she’s naked. Win-win.
I reach for the camera and take a couple of photos of my favorite thing—Sosie and that freckle. I set it back down, wanting to sleep some more with her, but I need to get a run in before I start work. And since she tried running with me twice and told me she’s sticking to yoga, I’m on my own.
Despite the claims, the summer wool isn’t thick enough to wick the moisture from my sweating palms, so I shove my hands in my pockets instead. Not sure why I’m nervous. It’s my mom, not a stranger. This shouldn’t be a big deal. But we both know it is. So when I’m led to the table where she’s been seated, I catch a glimpse of her fidgeting with the napkin right before she sees me.
I move to her side of the table. “Hi, Mom,” I say, giving her a quick hug, easygoing but not over the top. We’re not there yet. But I hold out hope.
“Keats, you look so handsome.”
“Thanks.” I sit across from her and drag my napkin into my lap. “You look nice. I like that hairstyle on you.”
“Oh, this.” Her eyes dart to the table as she maintains a softer smile. We don’t really look much alike, except in the obvious traits like hair and skin tone. We’re similar in other ways like stocking pasta and turning off unnecessary lights. But that’s more from lifestyle than anything else. After taking a sip of water, she says, “I just celebrated one year at the distribution center. I got a nice bonus and raise.”
I knew she was working steadily for the first time in a long time. But I also see it in the clarity of her eyes. She looks healthy and not too thin like she used to be.
The server stops by to take drink orders, but she orders an iced tea, so I do the same. As soon as we’re alone, she says, “I don’t drink anymore.”
“Oh. Was that your choice?”
“It was something I decided was needed. So I gave it up, and within two weeks, Miller did the same.” There’s a wistfulness to her gaze when she looks around the restaurant. “It wasn’t doing me any favors but it’s also been easier with a partner who supports you.” It is. I know firsthand. I couldn’t ask for someone to believe in me more than Sosie does. She laughs like she’s remembering an inside joke. I never cared much for him, but I didn’t give myself a chance to get to know him either. I probably should if he’s giving up drinking to be with my mom. “We even started walking after dinner and bought some hand weights we use at the apartment.”
“I can see the change. It sounds weird, but there’s more light to you, brighter eyes and a glow. I’m proud of you.”
The words cause her chin to tremble, and she grasps her clasped hands to her chest. “You don’t know what it means to hear you say that, Keats.” She reaches across the table andcovers my hand with hers. “I failed you as a mother. You practically raised yourself, but it’s hard to look at all your success and wish to change anything. But selfishly, I would if I could. I’d snap myself out of the daze I was living in sooner, go back to school, and even learn to cook a proper meal for my kid.”
If she had said these things to me when I was a teen or even in my early twenties, I would have given her a chance. It’s been years since then, since I spared my own feelings by isolating myself. But when I sit across from her like I am now, I can feel the need that little boy in me still has. Fuck my dad, but I miss my mom. “It was hard back then. I don’t hold a grudge. We can’t change it anyhow, only how we move forward.”
“Can we move forward?”
“I’d like that, and to see you more often.” I grin involuntarily because Spark is my heart and soul. “And introduce you to Sosie.”
Sitting back, there’s an easiness that shapes her body language. I feel it too. She asks, “Is she a special someone in your life?”
“She’s my everything.”
The smile rolls in gradually, but happiness is exuded in her eyes. “I can’t wait to meet her. She’s lucky to have you.”
“Trust me, I’m the lucky one.” I reach for my phone. “Want to see a picture?”
After dinner, we go for one of those walks she likes until we reach her subway station. I didn’t dread seeing her. I’ve wanted her in my life, but I had concerns of being disappointed, of feeling like I might not matter. Still. This meal changed everything for the better. I think for her as well. There’s a road back that’s unexpected. I want her to be a part of my life, and Sosie’s. “Hey Mom?”
We stop out of the path to the steps. She’s still smiling like she can’t believe she’s seeing me. I recognize it because I feel thesame. I say, “I have a signing in a few months at the Barnes & Noble in Union Square. If you have time to stop by?—”
“I’ll be there.” Like me, she’s not one to talk someone’s ear off, but what she says, she means. Tonight, the difference in her, and how our relationship has grown, is noticeable, so I know she won’t let me down. “I’ll put you on the guest list.”
I give her the type of hug I wanted growing up. The best part is that she returns it. “I love you, Keats. And I’m so proud of the man you’ve become.” When we release the embrace, she laughs as she starts down the steps. “Heaven knows I get no credit for it.”
“Sure you do. I wouldn’t be here without you.” When she glances back, the changes she’s made shine in her eyes, but it’s the joy she carries that reassures me she’s finally in a good place.
