He tucked his face into her neck and wrapped his arms tighter around her.
“I’ve got you,” she repeated.
“I know.”
Most of the reception was a blur, but Noah held her hand through it all: through every toast and passed hors d’oeuvre, and especially when yet another family member he hadn’t seen in ages commented on how much he looked like his father.
“Noah!” Uncle Stu bellowed, beckoning Noah over to where he and Wolf stood at the bar at the edge of the tent.
“I’ll be right back,” Noah said, squeezing Callie’s hand and leaving her as he went to the two men. She felt the loss of his hand as though all the warmth of that August night left with him.
Her mother’s voice at her side startled her. “I owe you an apology.”
“That would be a first,” she said. “What for?”
“He clearly cares about you very much,” she said, tilting her chin towards Noah, where he stood sharing a drink with his uncle and Wolf. The men were all smiling, Wolf shaking Noah’s hand.He got the job. Pride burst in her chest, a smile spreading across her lips.
“I think he does.”
“I shouldn’t have implied… I’m still concerned that he’s not ready to settle down, but…” Something in her mother’s voice, a hesitation she couldn’t ever remember hearing from her mother, pulled Callie’s attention back to their conversation. “I’ve made an appointment with a realtor. Just to talk. I’m not sure I’m ready to move, but…maybe it’s time.”
Callie should have been elated. This was what she wanted. As she watched Noah celebrating his new position, one that would take him across the country for the next several months—and would surely lead to even more opportunities that would take him even farther away—she couldn’t help but feel lonely, though. For all the times she and her mother didn’t see eye-to-eye, there was no denying that she had been the regular fixture in Callie’s life, and she would miss her when she left. But she also refused to be the reason her mother didn’t find her own happiness. Her mother had talked about moving back to Ohio to live near Aunt Shirley since Callie was a little girl. Despite her own growing sense of loss, she was so happy that her mother was finally doing something for herself.
“I know I can be too hard on you, and you are far more capable than I’ve given you credit for. But you’re my little girl. I don’t want you to hate me for leaving—”
“I won’t hate you.” Callie took her mother’s hands in hers, running her fingers over the weathered skin, the veins and wrinkles that had become more prominent in recent years.
“My sister certainly never forgave me for moving away,” she said, more to herself than to Callie.
“Mom, it’s time. You need to do something for yourself for a change.”
“After your father left… It’s just been the two of us for so long. I hope you can see that everything I’ve ever done has been to take care of you.”
Callie searched her mom’s face, so much older than she remembered it. The lines around her mouth had deepened from years of frowning and Callie’s heart ached as she allowed herself to consider, perhaps for the first time, how much heartbreak had touched her mother’s life. Had she ever seen so much emotion in her mother’s eyes? The way resolve and regret swirled together was mesmerizing, like clouds parting and coming together, providing brief glimpses of the demons that haunted her mother.
“I know, Mom.”
“And I can’t promise to stop worrying about you. I know you don’t need a partner to be okay, and it’s obvious you and Noah have something, but I can’t help it, Calandria. I just want you to be alright.”
“I think it’s time we both tried for more than just alright. Maybe it’s time we both tried to be happy.”
Her mother blinked, the emotion draining from her eyes and a careful calm returning to her expression. She flashed a quick smile, but there was no warmth in it, and squeezed Callie’s hands before wandering off into the crowd. Callie watched her go, wondering at the things she and her mother had never shared, all the pain they’d concealed from each other.
Callie wound her way through the crowd towards Noah. As she neared, bits of his conversation with his uncle and Wolf reached her ears.
“I got word from Senator Thorne this morning. This is no longer a re-election campaign,” Wolf said. “It’s a vice presidential bid.”
Noah glanced between the two men at his side. “I don’t understand.”
Uncle Stu laughed. “Look at him! The boy’s in shock.”
“Congressman Carmichael has announced Senator Thorne as his running mate. We’re documenting a presidential campaign.”
A presidential campaign was a whole other level of high profile. Whether or not Carmichael and Thorne were elected, scoring a documentary following the campaign of the first openly LGBTQ vice presidential nominee would skyrocket Noah’s career. This would allow him to compose full-time. He could finally leave academia. It was everything he’d ever wanted.
She should be ecstatic for him, and yet she couldn’t help the stab of loss, sharp and serrated. She had started to believe that it might be possible to find a way back to the music with him, that they’d have long days spent side by side at the piano again, him playing the songs they’d dreamt up together. Now he would go on the road, leaving her behind, to live his dream. A dream that didn’t include a chronically ill girlfriend who couldn’t travel the world with him, who couldn’t even play the music she heard in her head. There was no room for her in this reality. She was going to lose him, and the music with him.
“Get ready, son,” Uncle Stu said. “Your life is about to change.”
