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She laughs and then reaches between the seats to search for my hand. “I’m so glad you’re home, my girl.”
“I know, Mom.”
“And I know there must be a reason that you returned after all this time. Especially today, of all days.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “There is.”
“Then we can talk more when we get home.”
My dad pulls into the garage, and my heart aches when I see that my childhood home looks the same as it always has. The dark-green shutters got a fresh coat of paint, and the yard is filled with more flowers than it was back then, but otherwise, it’s the same white house that was filled with love and a life that I left behind so long ago.
“I’m gonna get dinner ready while you get settled, sweet pea. Still like your steak medium rare?”
“Yeah, Dad. Thanks.”
The scent of my mom’s favorite candle hits me the second I walk in the door, fruity and vibrant. The walls are now a soft gray compared to the beige they were when I was growing up, and the kitchen cupboards look brand new. But familiar pictures hang on the walls, a larger television sits on the stand I cracked my head open on once, and the lines in the wall where my dad measured my height are still easy to detect as I walk by.
“Did you guys change the kitchen?”
“No, just did a little repurposing of things. Now that your father’s retired, he hasn’t got much to keep him busy, so he’s found projects around the house to work on.”
“No,you’vefound projects formeto work on, Cecelia.”
My mother laughs and then goes to fill two glasses with water for us.
My father was a diesel mechanic for thirty years, and my mother still teaches kindergarten. She’s retiring at the end of next year after thirty-five years of teaching, and I know they’re eager to start traveling soon.
“It looks great. God, this is so weird.” I laugh nervously. “Sorry, I just...”
Mom rests her palm on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Pen. Let’s go to your room to talk.”
My mother leads me down the hall and opens the door to my room, where, just as she said before, the space looks exactly how I left it.
A few boyband posters still line the walls (*NSYNC fan for life), the walls are the same shade of lilac I demanded when I turned fourteen because I was and still am obsessed with the color purple, and my twin bed is still made and in the same corner where I slept under the window that I used to sneak Jacob in and out of at night.
My lip trembles, and I know my mom senses it because she rushes over to me and holds me to her chest, encircling me in her arms.
“It’s okay, Penelope. It’s okay. Shh.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry it’s been so long.”
“I know, baby. But you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”
“I had to come back. I-I need to move on.”
“Does this have something to do with the man you started seeing a few months ago?” I nod against her shoulder. “Well, then, I guess it’s time we talk.”
I wipe my nose on the sleeve of my light sweater, and then we both settle onto my bed. “God, where do I start?”
“Anywhere you want, my girl. Take your time.”
I draw in a deep breath and then let it out. “The man I’m seeing is Maddox Taylor.”
My mother’s eyes bug out. “Oh my. He’s, uh...”
“Really fucking hot, Mom.”
She nods in agreement as we both laugh. “That’s one way to put it, yes.”
