Page 75 of The Virgin Playboy

These were good memories, but they were painful knowing I’d never make more with him. When it became too much for me, I found myself back on the bed, crawling into a little ball. A knock came out my door, followed by me giving a subtle, “Come in.”

An impromptu comment about how I had it as cold as Alaska in here followed, but either I hadn’t noticed or I was trying to mask the faint yet strong smell coming from downstairs. “Girl, you is crazy. Give me some of that blanket if you're gonna keep that window open,” my mom chastised, looking like a snug bug in a cocoon as she joined me on the bed.

“It's been quiet up here. Everything okay?”

“Not really,” I croaked.

“Could it have anything to do with that boy you brought around for Thanksgiving?”

“Mom, he was twenty-eight years old. Younger, yes. But definitely not a boy,” I defended.

“Oh, you know what I meant. Stop taking things so literally. Damn. What happened?”

“We broke up. I wanted to take a break but he wanted a clean break. It was just…a lot of external pressure. We both wanted things that might not be realistic. I don’t know. I could have handled things better, but there were so many factors invalidating us, I just gave into societal pressures. Plus no one prepares you for how triggering it can be to be in a healthy relationship when you’ve never been in one before,” I conceded.

“Yeah, you will be the toxic one in that situation, whether you've got common sense or not,” she agreed.

“I ended up hurting him because I was trying to protect myself from being hurt. But he didn’t deserve it. Even if I had the opportunity to fix things between us, I fear I'd simply do what I always do. Put myself first.”

“Which is what we taught you to do,” my mother interrupted. “Honey, it’s hard being a parent. Even now. Even when you think your kids have it all figured out, they still need guidance that you don’t always have the answers for. I can only imagine what it was like for Hudson’s parents. I know that’s still hard on you, as much as you like to deny it. For as much as we adored him, he needed help. As a parent, that scares me the most, is when you feel powerless to solve your kid’s problems. It was scary back then, because we could see the signs. Your grades had been slipping. You were calling less. Lord only knows what could have happened with how easily people crack and take you with them. That wasn’t what we wanted for you and we’re glad you didn’t become a cautionary tale. But you chose yourself. In the end you only have that.”

“Yeah, but the guilt and pain are still following me around. But I can’t use it as an excuse forever⁠—”

“Maybe. But you also can’t keep punishing yourself because of it either. It may have been decades ago, but it’s a situation that slowly destroyed your ability to make connections with people.”

“I connect, just not always romantically. And relationships can be nice, but I don’t need them to feel like a complete person.”

“In theory, I agree with you. But someone's got to take this trash out, and it sure as hell ain't gonna be me,” she joked.

“What I'm trying to say is, it's good that you don't fall for the fantasy of the prince and pumpkin carriage. Because at the end of the day, all you'll be left with is a pumpkin. Following some of these men will lead you straight to hell. Whether that's a fiery pit or poverty, you can decide for yourself. But it's okay to want someone. With the right one, you’ll both lead with mutual respect. You…just work. And marriage is work.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. Your marriage doesn't⁠—”

“Girl, if you don't let me finish! Marriage is hard because it survives. It has to survive intensity. Boring. Normalcy. Passion. Anger. Disagreement. Resentment. But most of all, it has to survive routine. When someone becomes your routine and you can live with that, it's how you determine if there's a future there.

I'm not sure how you and Graham engaged each other in private, but in public you looked…safe. The kind of safety I’ve only seen in you when you relied on yourself. Only he was carrying some of the weight. You lit up in his presence. It was beautiful. Plus, our dogs liked him and they’re everyone’s biggest critics. You never bring anyone home. And then when you do, it's some Māori titan from New Zealand. Bitch, I should have got like you and tested every taste of the rainbow before I married your father,” she bantered.

“I hate to even ask, but I hope he at least put it down.”

“He could,” I pouted.

“Oh, girl. You will never hear me call you this again. But losing that was stupid.”

“I know,” I whined. “He made me really happy, but every time I put my guard down, I feared the worst could happen. Love makes me so suspicious, and that's something I know I have to work on. But he also had a lot of dreams. Ones I feared I couldn't give him,” I admitted.

“I’m progressive, but I can’t say the idea of my daughter partnering up with her equal isn’t something that isn’t sitting in the back of my mind. Not because I feel it'll complete you. But because I just want you to have someone who I can feel confident will take care of you. The main reason I initially saw that in Hudson, was because you put the thought there. But you didn’t put anyone else there, until Graham. This man literally thanked your father for your existence. That man ain't doing nothing but deposit you,” she joked.

“But on a serious note, you never shrunk yourself with him. Never forgot yourself with him. He seemed to love the things about you that you didn’t even like about yourself. I pray that you find that again in your lifetime, because it’s really hard to find.”

“Trust me, I know. It existed in Graham, but he’s going back home. A whole nineteen hours away. I feel like I owe it to him to let him. It doesn't feel like my place to stand in the way of who he's meant to be.”

“Perhaps that's for the best. Sometimes you have to let someone go, to show that you truly love them,” as it wasn't long before Dad was singing his signature soca songs, a sign that his pepper pot stew was done.

“Dinner must be up,” my mother announced.

“Give me a minute. I'll be right down?” I asked as a question, followed by my mother's relief to get out of my drafty room. Giving thought to my mother’s words, I unzipped the compartment of my suitcase that held his Christmas gift.

One through five I’d reread over and over, because for some reason while they were the simplest, I loved that he could appreciate such minor things.