“I know, son, thank you.” She pats my back, then pulls away to take my face in her hands. She looks at me intently as she says, “Worry about yourself a little too, ok?” There must be confusion in my face, because she goes on. “You need to live your own life. What kind of mother would I be if you missed out on everything because of me? I'm supposed to look out for you, and care for you, not the other way around. You're here everyday for me and don't go far from your apartment in case you need to run over here. I want you to have some fun. You're 28, this is the prime of your life. You've been wasting it on me for a long time.”
My eyes start to feel hot with tears, and I can barely do more than croak with how thick my throat feels. “Ma, how can you say that being here for you is a waste? Stop that. You're all I have here.”
“Ah, but that's just it. If this stroke has shown me anything, it's that I won't be around forever. You had dreams before we lost your father, and you dropped everything for your older mother. I've been numb since he's been gone, which has not been fair in the least to you. You've taken on too much, and I allowed it.” She huffs out a breath,forming her next thoughts. I'm staring at her blankly, trying to process her words as they wash over me. “When you inevitably lose me, whenever that may be, my most sincere wish is that I leave you in a life you find fulfilling, following your forgotten dreams, with someone special you love to be there for you.” She releases my face and gives me a little playful swat. “Now get out of here before you're late and let me shower. We'll talk more later when you look less shell shocked.”
Val obviously has heard everything, and loops my mom's arm through hers looking a little glassy eyed as they make their way toward her bathroom. Like the pro she is though, she just stays silent and doesn't comment, giving me the barest of farewell nods. I stand there reeling for a minute, every emotion tumbling around in my head, before I take a deep breath and push through it to get to work.
BY THE TIMEI check into work to pick up my truck full of packages, I've managed to get my game face on. I chat a little with the other drivers getting their trucks, check in with my loader about how much I've got to deliver today, and look at roughly how long my route will take if there is the usual traffic. It's going to be a longer day. Another driver I’m friendly with, Hank the Tank, hears me say as much to my loader and comes over. He comes by his nickname honestly at 6’4 and probably almost 300 pounds of muscle. Of course, he’s a total softie once you get to know him a little.
“You’re on Dave’s old route, right?” he asks.
“Yup, I applied to snatch it up as soon as I could when he moved. It’s a nice route.”
“Lucky bastard. I can’t wait to get my own route.”
“Elliot has been talking about retiring, and you’re due soon for your own route. Get your name in for his if it comes up.”
“I plan to. Have a good day out there, man!”
“You too, Hank.”
We fist bump and get to our respective trucks. I try to focus on my route, but my mom’s words keep playing on repeat in the back of my mind. How could she say that she hasn't been fair? She gave up her life for me for 18 years, it's the least I can do to make sure she is taken care of now. That's just what a son does for the best mom that has ever existed. I know I sound like a mama's boy, and I'm not ashamed of it. We will most definitely be talking much more about what she said later, it looks like she and I have a whole lot of thoughts that need to be spoken and hashed out.
My morning goes smoothly, and I'm able to keep going through my route with no issues, hauling packages, and greeting lots of cute dogs with treats. I give their owners my biggest smile, because I love that moment when the smile makes their faces soften and smile back. It doesn't always work, and I will never, ever, be THAT jerk that tells women in particular they should smile more. Most of the time I at least get a lip twitch in return though, and it makes both of our days better. Putting on a happy face for my mom when my dad passed was the only way I could think of to try and deal so she wouldn't worry about me so much, and it's apparently carried into the rest of my life too.
It’s beautifully sunny again today, with a bright blue sky and vivid fall colors bursting from the leaves in the tree lined streets. I can’t not enjoy it, so for lunch I grab a quick sandwich and soda at the local deli to eat while walkingaround outside with my airpods in. The playlist I listen to every day filters through the little ear pieces. My dad was a huge classic rock fan, and I grew up on the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, The Kinks, you name it. He used to do the absolute craziest faces when he would sing along to Immigrant Song that never failed to make me crack up. Playing his favorites like this always makes it seem like he’s still here with me.
When I finish eating, I can't help but grin as I take a look at where I'm delivering for the afternoon. Just like yesterday, I'll be heading to a bunch of houses in the neighborhood where I met Lyra and Brody toward the end of my day. It's great because it's a neighborhood close to my mom's house and the hub, so I can easily drop off my truck and go check on her after work. Today I’m grinning because there’s a delivery for Lyra that requires her signature. I have two goals I am determined to accomplish when I get there. Number one is of course to give Brody all of the pets and love. Two, I am hell bent on lifting her mood and making her smile, without being a creep about it. Our exchange was lighthearted but I didn't fail to see how sad and tired she looked. Moving to a new neighborhood can't be easy, and is also no doubt exhausting. The sadness I saw in her eyes gets me though, it seems deeper than just the strain of moving. I don't know her story, but I can't lie and say I'm not curious to get to know her better. Even though she was a little standoffish, and shut me down quickly, I liked how quick and sardonic she was. Some spark came into her eyes when we were talking. It’s also a simple fact that anyone who is so soft for their dog is a quality human in my book.
I'm glad she missed it, because when her face completely softened, and she smiled at her dog with so much love, my breath caught. I so desperately want one ofthose smiles from her it's downright ridiculous. The final nail in the coffin was when she turned to walk away. Her insanely gorgeous purple curls bounced in her ponytail, and her workout leggings clung to what I have no problem saying is one of the sweetest asses I have ever seen. It swayed to the rhythm of her ponytail and I was hypnotized. It took everything to stop myself from letting out a groan while I blatantly looked her over. Payback and karma and all that for her checking me out first, ok? The woman has all of the lovely curves. My point being, I want to try and get to know her, figure out her story, and see if she'll let me take her out for a drink. I'm a 28 year old man with a crush. I've gone on a few casual dates and had a few hookups since I left high school, but nothing felt right, and I wasn't in a headspace for anything more than that. I'm not even sure if I still am in that headspace, but after what my mom said this morning, maybe it's time I figure some things like that out. I've ignored it, and frankly been too busy to care, but there is no denying that it would be nice to try and really date someone. I think part of my ignoring it is from being scared. What if I really fall in love, find what my mom and dad had, and then I suddenly lose her? I think watching my mom's grief made me shy away, even though I rationally know that love and all of its terrifying pitfalls is worth it from seeing my parents together.
When I pull up to Lyra’s house, it's getting slightly dark and I can see a few lights on. Some of the traffic was awful today, or I would have been here sooner. The sun is bathing the sky in purples and reds as it starts to set. I take a little breath, grab her delivery and go up to ring the doorbell. Barking ensues immediately, and I am ready to accomplish that first goal. Then I hear footsteps, and there she is. Those gorgeous curls are piled on top of her head, her soft lookinggrey sweater is falling off her right shoulder, and she's got leggings and fuzzy grey socks on her legs. The whole look is so sexy and casual that I feel my heart begin to pound. I must gape at her for too long, because she clears her throat.
“Hi Taran, is that for me?” She sounds all business but there is the faintest lip twitch when our eyes collide. I have to bring my eyes back to hers, because they ran down her body of their own volition. So much for not being a creep, I mentally berate myself.
“Yeah, um, sorry. Hi, Lyra. This needs your signature, please.” Why am I so flustered all of the sudden? Brody saves me by shoving himself under her arm as she takes the package and reaches for my tablet pen. He's circling like a vulture and his tail is thwacking my leg as he dances around, but I'm distracted by the rose scent coming off of Lyra as she leans in closer to my little tablet to sign it.
“He wants another treat, he never forgets anyone who gives him treats,” Lyra says wryly. I pocket my little tablet once she signs and bends down to scratch behind his ears.
“Then you are in luck my buddy, because look what I have here,” I say to him. When I produce what he wants out of my pocket, his entire body wiggles as he sits nicely for it. I let him have it and he runs back into the house.
“Thanks for this,” she says, lifting the package in a sort of salute. “I was hoping to get it today to start working on it.”
“Do you get a lot of deliveries like this? If so I better start buying treats in bulk,” I ask with the best mischievous grin I can possibly give her. She very obviously tries to hold it in, but I fucking did it. She laughs. I'm struck dumb by it, because a dimple pops in her right cheek as she does, and the sound is throaty.
“I do. I mostly work remotely, and marketing at mycompany has to send their materials for me to review exactly how it will look in real life, not electronically.” She's halfway back through her door before she turns and waves. “Thanks, again.”
I can't help but wink at her and say, “Anytime, see you soon Lyra.” She rolls her eyes but there is nothing behind it as she shuts her door. I get back into my truck and do a little happy dance in my seat. My mind is so full of questions about her. Where does she work that marketing materials need such careful review? Is there any way for me to make an excuse to see her without having to deliver a package? Most importantly, is she even single? There is no ring that I saw, but that obviously doesn't mean she is single. Hell, does she even like men? She was clearly checking me out but I don't want to make assumptions. I try to clear my head to finish up my day, telling myself that I'll eventually, hopefully, get answers. Then I blast my dad's playlist and enjoy the hell out of the warm feeling deep in my chest after getting her to laugh. The whole rest of my day I am whistling and humming to myself, already excited for the next time I get to deliver to that little firecracker. After 10 years of grief and just getting by, she’s lit a spark in me again.
Chapter 3
Lyra
“On my end, we do need to change a few things here to stay in compliance with the FDA. The couple in the ad is depicted running a race. It's unfortunately misleading about what this drug can do for rheumatoid arthritis.” I'm on a video call on my first day back at work on Monday, and it's a little surreal. It's been 4 days since I moved in, and I'm feeling more and more settled each day. The furniture came on schedule the other day, so I now have a bed, thank whatever being is up there watching. I was able to get better sleep before going back to work, and my back is grateful too. Now I’m seated at my work computer in my new home office, notes in hand, with a sea of faces looking back at me on the screen. One of those faces turns indignant at my statement.
“How are we supposed to get people intrigued to ask their doctor about our drug if we just show them opening a can?” Garrett from marketing whines. He's new, and I'm pretty sure this is his first marketing campaign for our company. It would still be nice if he didn't start his portion of the meeting with a blatantlymisleading ad. Internally, I count to 10 so I don't bite his head off and remain professional. I love my job. Truly I do. I'm passionate about the part I play in getting life saving drugs approved and out to people who need it. Meetings like this test my damn patience though, and I've never had a lot of patience to begin with.
“I’m sorry, Garrett, but the ad can't stay as is, or we will have to end up pulling it eventually anyway and get a huge fine. So it's completely cost prohibitive. We can't mislead folks with RA into thinking they'll be able to run a race because of this drug. The indication is to help people accomplish small, everyday activities like buttoning clothes or chopping vegetables.” I tell him this with every ounce of patience I can muster since he should already be well aware of it, new or not. He looks defiant, but before he can say more, the legal reviewer, my friend Savannah, jumps in with her notes. This has already felt like the longest meet- ing, and we've still got plenty to go over. I can tell my jaw is starting to feel overworked. It's always a little achy, but it usually doesn't bother me at all. If I'm super tired or talk a whole lot though, it starts to really ache, and it becomes harder to form my words crisply. It's embarrassing, I also start to lisp. My doctors have been telling me for ages that I'll need surgery on it, sooner rather than later, to prevent permanent damage but it's incredibly daunting and insanely costly. Anxiety washes over me about whether I will be able to get through the rest of this meeting talking normally. It's weakness, and I never, ever, want to appear weak or abnormal again. So I calm myself, massage my jaw with my thumb and index finger to disguise it as me looking like I'm thinking, and allow the legal and medical reviewers to talk for a bit to give me a break.
