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“Well,” she began, wiggling her eyes toward me. “I think Mr. Hicks is smitten with a certain young man.”
“You picked that up from a dinner?” Dad interjected. She elbowed him again, and he flinched. “Oops, was I supposed to jump onboard your fast-moving love train, dear?”
Mom elbowed him for a third time, rolling her eyes toward me. “It’s so obvious, Alex. God! Men! You’re all so unromantic,” she declared.
“Calm down, Mom,” I said. “And give Dad a break while you’re at it.”
“I’ll have you know that I am very romantic,” Dad corrected. “I just think that Cole is wrong for our son.”
His surprise opinion had Mom and me gawking at one another. Dad rarely had an opinion about my love life, so to hear him share one was stunning.
“And why is that?” Mom insisted, warming up another elbow.
“Yeah, Pops. Why is that?” I parroted.
“Because he’s like your old man and you can’t stand people that go on about money all the time.”
“He didn’t go on about money the whole time,” I defended. “In fact, he didn’t mention finances one single time. That was you, Dad. Mr. Hicks was just being nice, and I liked him quite a bit.”
“Hmmm?” Dad sniffed, turning to Mom. “I guess you were right, honey.”
* * *
Where did my trepidation come from regarding Cole Hicks? He was mature. He was established. He was a hunk. Three of my fave things in a man. He was experienced with a long-term relationship even if he kept the information about his breakup to a minimum. Neither Mom nor I pried as he mentioned he was recovering from the demise of a long-term coupling. I respected his reluctance to commiserate about the loss in front of people he didn’t know.
But I’d noticed the loss of the person he’d loved was still present in his eyes. I could almost detect the memories of love still there, painful and difficult to distance from. I wondered what had happened.
“Discover why,” an inner voice urged.
I didn’t jump after hearing the voice. I’d come to expect and accept messages like this one. “I’m afraid to,” I whispered, sensing a strong and persuasive voice invading my mind.
“What if he needs you?”
“What if he hurts me?” I argued, staring into the distance as two seagulls jostled in the air over a tidbit of food one had that the other desired.
I believe in love. I think the world is full of love even when current events offer you a reason not to think so. However, I was afraid my reluctance lately was based on a growing fear inside that true love wasn’t my destiny.
David’s death and misjudging Clint’s capacity to love me all seemed like signs, and I was only twenty-two years old. What was love’s plan for me?
“What are you doing, honey?” Mom asked, bringing me back to my surroundings and tugging on my shaggy hair from behind.
“Just thinking, Mom.”
“Out loud?” she asked. “May I ask what about?”
“Love,” I answered.
“So, the small stuff, huh?” she teased, coming to stand in front of me. “You all right, honey?”
“Honestly,” I began, tearing up. “I’m not sure.”
She nudged my knee with hers. “Can I help?”
“I’m stuck,” I said. “That’s the only way I can describe my feelings. I’m disappointed in the recent past and afraid of my future. Unsure of what’s next.”
Mom kneeled in front of my chair and reached for my hand. “I can tell you’re out of sorts, son. Every young person finishes school and reaches this point,” she explained. “All the usual questions. How long do you live with your parents? What kind of career do I want? Who am I now? We all go through this uncertainty.”
Her explanation and concern were valued, but that wasn’t completely my worry. “I want true love,” I whispered. “I want someone to see me. To really see me, Mom,” I emphasized. She nodded and smiled. “Do you think I’m weird?” I asked.
