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“Oh, no,” I shook my head feeling bad that she’d picked up on that. “I was just…Jimmy and I sort of…”
Just saying his name was all it took for me to breakdown again.
“Oh, boy.” Mrs. B stepped inside, shut the door, and pulled me into her arms.
I crumbled into them as she held my head to her shoulder and stroked my hair. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill that boy.”
“No!” I pushed away from her shaking my head. “He didn’t do anything. It was me…” I sucked in a shaky breath. “I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.”
“You did?”
I nodded.
“If you don’t want to see him, then why did it look like someone kicked your puppy when he wasn’t the one at the door and what’s with the waterworks?” She cupped my cheek and wiped a tear with her thumb.
“Because,” I sucked in a shaky breath. “I do want to see him. I just… I can’t. He wanted to be, he wanted me to be his girlfriend. He didn’t even care that I live in New York. He said that he wanted to try.”
“And you don’t?” Mrs. B was clearly trying to make sense of my blubbering.
“I do. But I can’t. You know I can’t. That’s not fair to him.”
“Oh, dear.” I could see by her expression that Mrs. B finally got the scope of the situation. “Sit down, honey.”
I did as she asked. She shuffled into the bathroom, in her house shoes, and I heard the water running. When she came back, she had a damp washcloth and she wiped down my face before taking a seat in the chair across from me.
She patted my knee as she inhaled slowly. “Now listen, I know it’s not my place to tell you how to live your life. And if you’re anything like your mama, you won’t listen anyway,” she said the last sentence under her breath.
“My mama?”
“Your mama…” Mrs. B inhaled. “That woman was as stubborn as the day is long. She didn’t listen to a word of what I had to say. She always thought she knew what was best. There was no changin’ her mind.”
I’d never really considered my mother having any characteristics other than sadness and depression. As a kid, that was all I’d seen. As an adult woman, I realized that she was a three-dimensional person who, of course, had traits other than the ones I’d witnessed.
“But this isn’t about her.” Mrs. B waved her hand dismissively. “No, actually it is. I don’t want to see you make the same mistake she did. She shut everyone out of her life that loved her. She closed herself off, thinkin’ she was doin’ everyone a favor because they wouldn’t miss her as much when she was gone. But that’s not a way to live, sweet girl.
“Do I know what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next day? No. Of course I don’t. But neither do you. And if there’s a chance that you could have the sort of love that most people live their entire lifetimes and don’t experience, it would be downright disrespectful not to give that a chance.”
“No one said anything about love,” I quickly corrected her.
Mrs. B dropped her chin and glared at me above the rim of her glasses. “I don’t think your eyes woulda been leakin’ like that if it wasn’t love. And I know Jimmy. That boy’s never looked at a girl the way he looks at you. He’s a smitten kitten, and he’s a good egg, sweetie. I wouldn’t be tellin’ you this if he wasn’t. If you feel the same way he does, then you need to tell him. You need to tell him everything, and then let him decide what he wants to do.”
As much as I wished that was the answer, that it could be that simple, I shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t put him in that position. I can’t hurt him like that.”
What sort of a person tells someone that they think they’re falling in love with them and that they have an expiration date in the same sentence?
“You’re right.” Mrs. B nodded and patted my knee.
“I am?” Her response took me by surprise, I’d expected her to argue with me. I had already been mentally devising my comebacks. When I realized how unsure I’d sounded, I repeated, “I am.”
This time the two words didn’t come out sounding like a question.
“Of course you are. If anyone is qualified to determine who should know things and who shouldn’t, it’s you. I mean, I’m sure you loved it when your parents took away your choice to know the truth because they didn’t want to put you in that position. I’m sure you appreciate that they thought they were doing the right thing and didn’t want to hurt you.”
With that, Mrs. B stood, kissed me on my forehead, and left the room. I’d always been amazed at her gift for making a point without telling me what I should do. It looked like she hadn’t lost her touch.
