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mak

My mother and father look great. They left their hogs at home and walked to the service. Mom’s using a cane, but she uses it less and less each day. She and I are starting to see the value in believing in ourselves. I arrive early to talk to the box that used to be Lana.

“I did it. I got an A in biochem. I’m still getting a B in statistics because of the whole missing a class thing.” I pause and put my hand on the box.

My mom shuffles over to me. I’m fine if they want to live out their lives here as long as they live. She’s been hiding for so long behind her weight or her maladies she forgot she loves to garden or be outdoors. I went to Paris partly because she once told me she’d always wanted to see it but knew she never would. I want to take her there someday and show her my Paris.

I think it was a pivot for me when she told me that. I wanted to make sure I was never that resigned in life. That there wasn’t an adventure I couldn’t take. Adventure. It hurts just as badly as it did the moment I walked away from him. What I saw as reckless and impossible when I was younger now seems like it might have been the right path.

I’m standing between a woman who tried everything and a woman who’s tried nothing. And I’m leaning towards the Lana life philosophy and hope my mom joins me in choosing to be a little reckless but truthful. I don’t want to deny who I am anymore.

But if my mom can walk up to me and learn to live without sugar and shame, maybe if she keeps trying, I can remember what it’s like to do that too. Med school at almost thirty is ridiculous and could be considered reckless. Still, I’ve been hiding behind fixing my past for so long that I forgot I have a future.

I put my hand on the box and look at my mom, and tears just flow. I’m sad she’s gone, I’m sorry I let myself disappear, and I’m devastated I walked away from Tony.

“My darling, Leech.”

I bury my head in my mother’s shoulder. The space is filling up, I hear it, and I’m fine that they’re seeing me crying. They can think I’m mourning Lana. I am. I wish I could listen to her yell at me to get my life back in gear one more time.

“Mom. I love him so much. I don’t know what to do.” She holds me closer, and she’s not wobbly on her feet or shifting her weight. She’s steadfast, and I’m so grateful for her. She smooths my dark hair that I let hang straight for today. I did put on makeup that’s now ruined.

“I know, baby. If I could take this pain from you, I would. I’ve gotten a little too good at pain management. Don’t hide from this. Feel it. That’s what we’ve learned, baby, we have to feel the yucky stuff so we can feel the good things too.”

I laugh through my blubbering.

I lift my head, and Chelle and Julia come into view. They’re dressed in lavish matching pastel gowns and tiaras. They’re honoring Lana in the best way possible. And they’re escorted by a young, blond, handsome—what the fuck is even happening?

I can’t breathe. I can’t do anything.

“Mak, you ok? Why are you so white?” Barton yells from the corner. “Get Parry, I think she’s going into shock.”

Scott yells, “She could use a little shock after the stunts she pulls.”

Dottie yells at Scott, “Leave Mak alone. She’s a good one. You just cheat at games and Makenzie’s good at catching you.”

His head snaps from looking at the ground to my direction when Dottie yells my name. We’re frozen in a gaze that might define the rest of our life. My heart is heavy, filled with lead and light, as helium leaks from a balloon.

“Honey,” my mom whispers. “Honey, what is it?” I point down the makeshift aisle. I keep hesitating. She turns and says, “Is that him? That’s your man?” I nod.

Someone behind my mom points out, “Hey, lookie here. Is that Tony from Mailboxes R US?” Mr. Santee says, “What’s Tony doing here?”

I shake my head and realize half the people here are saying hello to him. Hell, Mary Margaret is hugging him. What the fuck is going on? My jaw drops, and my knees buckle, and before I know it, he’s gently removing me from my mom and taking me in his arms.

“Ma’am, I’ve got it from here.” He smiles at my mother, and she clutches her heart and squeezes his arm. Then she wobbles off to a chair.

Chelle screams, “Hells bells, Tony, why didn’t you say it was Mak?”

There’s noise, and all the chatter fades into a mess of white noise, things we can discard so we can focus on each other.

The touch, the smell, and the sound of him humming a slow song all work together to awaken my entire being. I return to myself in his arms. And just like that, I fall completely apart, and he’s the only one who can help me put myself back together. He’s holding me, and everyone around me is staring. And I know Lana had one more trick up her sleeve and one more spell to cast.

He kisses my hair softly and whispers repeatedly, “Shh. I’m here. I’m here.” We stay entwined for moments beyond appropriate at a memorial service.

I snuggle harder into him and let all my remorse, grief, and anxiety flow onto Tony’s chest. This has to be a mirage in my desert. He can’t be here with me.

He eventually guides me to a couple of chairs, and I don’t look around us. I focus on sitting and remaining connected to him. I have a hard grip on his hand, and he doesn’t say anything about it.

When the local pastor speaks, I dare to look up at him. Tony’s gazing back at me. He lets go of my hand and wipes the mascara from under my eyes, smiling.