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Mia.
When Ma’s posture stiffens to the point where I worry she thinks we have ghosts, I explain, “I think Mia’s playing that for us.”
Her shoulders shake with silent laughter, then she puts her hands up, inviting me to dance. “We can’t let the song go to waste.”
Although more somber than the last time we danced, I spin her slowly around the kitchen while I commit every last moment to memory.
“She has nice taste in music, Calvin. Might want to marry that one.”
Chapter33
It comes and goes in waves
MIA
Cal’s quiet on the ride to Redleg, and I let him have this time to collect himself. He needs it after what just happened.
Heck, who am I kidding? I need it too.
The oddest thing happened when he went to comfort her at the sink.
I wanted to give them privacy.
And then I did.
For the first time in years, my need for information was silenced by my compassion.
Nothing happening in that kitchen was about me, aside from my careless comment that tripped her up. Although I was curious to see how Cal handled it and get a peek into their dynamic, it wasn’t my moment to have.
If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me. The decision is his to make.
So after slinking from the kitchen, I quietly escaped to the front porch and sat on her wooden swing. With only my cell phone to occupy me, I wasn’t the slightest bit tempted to listen in.
And I could have.
My laptop was there. A few swipes of my thumb across my phone screen, and I’d have been the fly on the wall. The creeping creeper.
But then I’d be no better than the asshole who broke into my place and put in cameras to capture my most intimate moments. And why would I do that to the man who’s quickly becoming the most important person in my life and his loving mother? What kind of monster would do that?
Instead of violating their privacy, I found a song I figured would lighten the moment and played it for them.
I hope it helped ease their pain, even if only a bit.
It was the only comfort I could give them. A wordless way for me to support Cal.
I realize I seem like an entitled ass. I hear it myself in the echoes of my inner ramblings. What gives me the right to insert my nose uninvited into situations so often thatthe one timeI don’t do it, I end up patting myself on the back for my miraculous restraint?
I don’t blame you for asking that question.
I wish I had a good answer. A morally justifiable one. Something to not only explain my reasoning but also make my snooping perfectly acceptable.
But I don’t have an answer like that.
The only thing I know is… I don’t want to be that person anymore. I haven’t wanted to be her for a long while, the truth be told.
Yet until now, I wasn’t strong enough to fight the compulsion.
As I glance at the man in the driver’s seat, I know why.
