“It’s no problem. Are you having a good day so far?” I ask, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Oh, it’s been wonderful. I wasn’t expecting this many people to show up though,” she says with a huff. “It’s a lot better now that you’re here. I’m really glad you came.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I grit out. Clattering sounds behind us and my mom's head shoots back on instinct. “You better go take care of that. I’ll be around if you need me.”
She holds the flowers up to me and mouths, ‘thank you’ before following the sounds that come from behind her. I stand in the kitchen for a while trying to psych myself up to engage with the rest of the party. I quickly down a glass of punch before setting off into the depths of the house.
*
It’s not until after 1 AM when the party is finally over. The only people left to clean up is me, my parents and Clara. Even though I was dreading it, the party didn’t turn out to be as bad as I thought. I got to see tons of my family that came from up and down the globe for my mom's birthday.
She was constantly showered with compliments and given hundreds of presents which were mostly wine and flowers. The cake flip went well after years of practice and the speeches automatically made my mom cry. We all said something nice about her too – even me. I cheated a little and just said that I’m grateful to have her as a mom. Because I am. As much as what she did is still going to take time to heal, I’m ready to give myself that time and the space for healing.
Clara has taken the backyard to clean up and dad’s taken the front. I don’t know what mom has done but the living room is spotless again. I’ve been trying to clean up the hallways, picking up paper plates and Solo cups until I walk down the left corridor where the master bedroom is. The door to my parents’ door is cracked open a few inches and I spot my mom in there. She’s sat on the bed, still wearing her birthdays sash and crown as she looks through photos on the bed. I try and look without being seen, ready to walk past this private moment.
“Can you believe you were this small?” she says quietly, not looking up from the photo in her hand. “I can tell you’re there, Miles.”
God, I must actually breathe really loud. This is not the first time someone has been able to tell who I was without looking at me. I push down the memories of Wren and her ridiculous talent as I walk into the bedroom cautiously. I sit down on the king-sized bed, and I’m instantly reminded of waking up in here on Christmas morning.
The bedroom is filled with large boxes as if they’ve just moved in. It’s really just a lot of childhood memories like our baby clothes, birthday cards and some of our old toys. They’re both too afraid to keep them in the basement and they said it makes them feel closer to us when we’re away from home. I take up one of the photos and it’s of me and my dad, riding my first bike down our neighbourhood street. The memories look brighter and even better than I remembered them.
“I remember this day,” I murmur holding up a picture of the first hockey game I went to. I’m in a jersey five sizes too big for me, sat on my mom’s knee with hockey cap on her head.
“I do too. You couldn’t keep still the whole time butevery timeI tried to pass you to your dad, you didn’t want to go to him. You were such a mommy’s boy,” she says ruefully.
“Yeah.” A wave of comfortable silence settles over us as we look through the pictures. The memories seem so close yet so far away from where I am now. I’m turning twenty in a few months and a huge part of me still feels like a kid. A huge part of me stillactslike a kid.
“I’m sorry Miles,” my mom says, snapping me out of my trance. She’s still looking down at the pictures, running her finger across one of them. “I ruined this bond between us last year because I couldn’t keep it a secret from you for any longer.”
“I know, mom but I didn’t make it easy for you either. I just thought you guys loved each other,” I whisper. She looks up at me and I can see the tears lining her eyes. It’s hard thinking you know someone your whole life o then realise some of it was a lie.
“I do love your dad and I love you and Clara more than anything. I made a mistake, but your dad and I found each other again. The most important thing is that we’re happy now.”
"Are you though? Happy, I mean?"
"More than anything. Thats all that matters."
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right, my love,” she says and squeezes my face between her hands. “Did your team get into the finals?”
“Just about. The game is next weekend if you want to come?”
“I would love to,” she beams. “What about that girlfriend of yours? Will she be there?”
“Probably not. She’s not really my girlfriend anymore,” I say, a sharp pang jolting through my chest.
“Why not?” mom asks, her hand coming to rest over mine. “I know I was a little weird that day, but you guys seemed lovely together. She was really kind.”
“Yeah, she is. I just… I made a mistake, and I don’t think she’s ready to forgive me,” I admit.
“Well, what was the mistake?” I explain to her what happened at Palm Springs and to my surprise, she doesn’t judge me. Or us. “Well, take it from me, it’s not easy to be forgiven. Those kinds of things take time but all you can do is prove to her that you deserve another chance.”
Another chance.
CHAPTER 45
WREN
