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I’ve felt the proverbial heat since arriving back in town. Yet it is the scorching temperatures I escape, unlocking and entering Sweet Caroline’s. The theater is dark and cool. I take a minute to enjoy the reprieve.
Along with the rest of the south, the heat in Brighton is insufferable this August. I’ve been able to stand it from the comfort of an air-conditioned tour bus where I’ve slept off the meet and greets with fans, the late parties when everyone is gone from a venue, and even later nights on the road to the next stop.
Along with a lot of other things, my sleep schedule is about to change. At least in the interim. And wanting to start the morning off on the right foot, this is the second time in two days that the first thing I’ve done when I’ve stepped outside was take an early drive over to old man Johnston’s. His garden is where I found the not-quite-coral roses when I needed to apologize to Paisley for not listening this spring.
Seems I made a habit of that, huh?
Today Mr. Johnston cut me four petite roses from his garden, warning that he only has so many corals in bloom. When I paid Mr. Johnston for the roses informed me the remaining coral buds he’s tending won’t be ready to open until later this week. Tomorrow, I’ll have to get my roses from the nursery he sold to Holly. My choices are limited to red and white.
I can already see how much effort Holly has put into transforming the place. Paisley’s favorite is the coral, but I doubt someone as gracious as she is will fuss about what color roses I lay on her doorstep since supporting small businesses falls along the lines of something Paisley would do. She’s all about whatever benefits the little guy.
“Look who is up with the crows.” Arms extended, my mother saunters toward me from the hallway.
“Did you even go to bed last night?”
“What a silly question. Of course, I didn’t. I’m too excited to see my boy. You’ve been gone all summer. And there is a reason God invented cucumbers.”
She makes me chuckle. “For the bags under your eyes?”
My mother shoots me a coy wink.
Whatever Mom’s secrets are, her habits have cracked the code to the fountain of youth. Caroline is ageless and appears as impeccable as she had on stage thirty years ago.
I pull Mom into a hug. I drove over to her house the moment I got back, but today I’m feeling nostalgic, and I’m sure she is, too.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask. We’re expecting other people here soon.
My mother’s brow raises. “Are you having second thoughts? Come sit.” She beckons me to the same table I sat at on Valentine’s Day when my entire life felt out of balance.
“I don’t remember a time before Sweet Caroline’s,” I admit.
“That’s because there wasn’t one for you, sweetheart. The two things I wanted more than anything were born right here: my career and my family.”
“When I came back to Brighton after Dad went to jail, all I wanted was to fix the damage he caused.”
“I know you did. I know you were struggling with your own losses. I needed you here. But I also thought that you’d leave again.”
“You did?” Mom hadn’t said any of this when I got off the plane.
“Jake, your dad and I were a team. We had the same goals. When your band broke up, I was mourning what could have been. Processing everything the same way you were. I don’t respect what your father did. To this day, I still don’t understand why he did it. But I’m within my rights to cherish the moments before he got involved with the wrong sort of people.
“Love isn’t a light switch. It’s a lighted path. It’s been my experience that vibrant lights flick on the path while falling in love. And at some point, the love is sprinkled like fireflies, guiding you along a longer one clouded by shadows, until the sun comes back out and it brightens again. But how long the dimness lasts, and when it happens, is different for everyone.” Her shoulders squeeze together. “There’s no such thing as timing it perfectly. There’s no such thing as the perfect match. But if you are lucky, you meet thealmostperfect person. You accept that their flaws make them human and they find a way of doing the same for you.
“The love your dad and I had was once in a lifetime. He cared about my hopes. He kept my dream of owning this club and the people here safe for so, so long. Your father never stepped out on me. He never betrayed our marriage vows in a scenario where I was the one who was taking off my clothes for other men. Our newer female employees often threw themselves at him, thinking it would help them keep their jobs. Do you have any idea how difficult the constant strain on fidelity was for either of us? We were conscious and conscientious of one another’s feelings. I’m not ashamed to say we had angry sex, or sex to take the edge off. I’ve been your mother long enough that I’m not ashamed to tell you that your dad and I hadconstantsex. It was a huge part of our relationship and it helped keep our marriage healthy.”
“Can we move past the sex part now?” I cringe like a teenager.
“My point is that sadness, regret, remorse, and fear, shattered souls and broken dreams are as important to this life we live as holding onto hope, accepting apologies for the kind of hurt your heart won’t ever stop weeping over, and picking your knickers up off the floor and trying again.
“I’m proud of you for trying again this summer. I’d wished, even if you never joined another band, that you’d see past your sorrow and make the choice you are making today. I retired and gave you Sweet Caroline’s so that you had the option of doing whatever you wanted with it.”
“You wanted me to close the club?”
“No, I wanted you tousethe club. You could have sold this place to finance your goals. Moved back to California… as long as you had a guest room for me.” She squeezes my knee.
I blanch and lean into the chair, reacting to this news. My mother could’ve said this as her time on stage faded.
She places her hand on my knee. “Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone has a unique interpretation of how someone else’s actions affect them. Sometimes we fall so far that we lose the grace to hear what’s truly in someone’s heart, only to respond out of fear and loneliness. Don’t hold our pasts against us. I loved your dad through the toughest years of our lives. And I will always love you, no matter what choices you make.”
