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“I’ll be back for you, baby,” I say into the void of the cab, hoping Luna hears it somewhere on the wind.
46
LUNA
“How you doing over there, kid?” my mom asks from her perch against the nearby picnic table. Next to her sits a box of donuts we’ve demolished half of already, and she cradles her to-go coffee cup against her chest.
After dragging me out of bed this morning, she drove us and Matty to get a sugary breakfast and bring it here to the park where she now has me shooting hoops while we dive into my feelings, while Matty tools around on his skateboard.
I look down at the ball as I idly dribble, buying myself a few extra seconds before I answer with a sigh. “I’m twenty-two and I’ve already fallen in with a guy I didn’t even realize was controlling me and who later put me in a hospital bed. Oh, and I’m almost divorced from another guy. I’m a fucking train wreck.”
“Trainwreck!” Matty hollers as he zips by on his skateboard while making an explosion sound and mimicking one with his hands.
Ignoring him, my mom lifts an eyebrow as she bounces the ball to me again. “Well… is that what you think of me?”
“What?” I feel my brows pull inward as I catch it in front of my chest. “No, why would I ever?”
“Because when I was your age, honey, I was a single mother in rehab after she met her second druggie boyfriend.”
I feel my heart sink like a stone as I look down at the asphalt. “Mom, none of that was your fault. It was just a run of bad luck. No one made me marry Kaleb.”
“And no one made me snort pills,” she volleys back.
“But, Mom, you’ve got your shit together, and that doesn’t define you.” She arches an eyebrow at me and my mouth falls open as I realize my argument holds no weight. Shaking my head, I huff out a breath and turn towards the basket, taking a shot that bounces off the rim.
My mom gives a resigned smile as she picks up her coffee from the picnic table. After taking a sip, she brings up Kaleb’s visit yesterday. “Anyway, sounds like Kaleb doesn’t want to get divorced anyway.”
I shake my head, still not knowing what to do with that as I snag the ball again. Last night, she’d kept her word and we just hung out, and it was a nice distraction. It helped me reset a little bit, and then this morning, my mom plied me with donuts and coffee before moving in for the kill. I seriously wonder sometimes if she’s a witch.
“He came here looking for you,” she continues, dipping her chin to level me with a serious look. “If he truly wanted to end things, he would’ve sat back and let you go, but he didn’t.”
“And?” I sigh petulantly as I start dribbling the ball again. I know I’m being stubborn, but I feel locked in this state of anger and self-doubt.
“And if you don’t want to be a young divorcée, as you’ve expressed your concern, then don’t get divorced because you guys went through a shitty time,” she quips smartly before taking another sip while Matty yells from across the court.
“Shitty!”
“Language!” Mom fires back before looking back at me. “Anyway, I don’t really think you want this, honey. I think you’re still reeling from the shock and the hurt.”
“He’s the one who drew up divorce papers,” I argue, turning my back as I continue to dribble, and I can hear a monumental sigh behind me. “What?” I demand, as I whip around to face her. “Why can’t you just support me on this? Why does it feel like you’re taking his side?”
“I’m not,” she holds her hands up defensively. “Never did I say let him off the hook and run back to him like nothing happened. Hell, I raised you better than to be blindly forgiving. I’m saying take it from a former addict, people do unreasonable things when they are in dark places. I don’t think it was Kaleb that filed those divorce papers, is all I’m saying. But the guy that was stunned by his own mistake and came rushing after you trying to fight for your love?”
She leaves the question hanging in the air while she looks at me expectantly to pick up what she’s dropping.
That was the real Kaleb.
The thought sweeps through my mind against my stubborn will, refusing to be suppressed. The guy that woke up that one morning and bought me a six pack of root beer to apologize for being an ass was my Kaleb. The guy that started putting in work at his physical therapy. The guy that started to draw again. Even the guy who kissed me goodbye in the driveway… I don’t want to admit it, but that was him, too.
“He just hurt me so bad,” I finally confess quietly, and I look up to see my mom’s shoulders drop and her face soften. “I just want to get as far away from that pain as I can and never feel it again.”
Mom pushes off the picnic table and comes striding over. I let her envelope me in another comforting mama hug that I can only get from her.
“You still love him, or you wouldn’t be hurting like this,” she comments gently, “but right now, you’ve lost some of your faith in him. It’s okay to take some time to heal yourself, and let him use that time to earn that faith back again. If he doesn’t? Then at least you will have found your own happiness again, and God knows that you guys won’t be able to do for each other what you can’t do for yourselves.”
Her words sink in softly, and it finally feels like I have some kind of clarity; like I don’t need to have answers right now. It’s like I’ve been given permission to let go of this whole shitshow; to let go of the pain and just be. I think the answer is that I don’t have to have the answer right now. It’s to just heal and just be.
We hug another moment before my brother’s little voice penetrates the bubble.
