And it’s not that I’m not deeply happy in a way I can’t fully describe. Despite what I said earlier, there is warm comfort in the knowledge that Drew’s words, the stripper, all stemmed from a terrible misunderstanding.
It’s the prayer of every person who’s ever been told heartbreaking news. Your son was killed in a car accident, you have stage-four cancer. The hope is always that the bearer got it wrong. A misidentification. A misdiagnosis.
A mistake.
But what happens after the “mis”? After you’ve accepted tragedy as truth, or blown your life savings because you thought you only had weeks to live? What do you do then?
You step forward. You rebuild. You climb your way up from rock bottom with the determination that not only will life go back to normal, but that it will be better, sweeter.
Because hindsight is more than 20/20. Perspective doesn’t just change how you look at things, it changes how you feel. And once you think you’ve lost it all, you value every moment infinitely more.
We pull into the parking lot of the diner and walk through the back door into the kitchen, hand in hand. Like two teenagers who didn’t just stay out past curfew, but stayed out all night, scaring everyone who cares about them nearly to death.
My mother stands at the counter, furiously chopping raw carrots with a gleaming knife. It’s not difficult to guess she’s imagining the carrot is something else entirely. George sits at the small table beside Billy. Dee Dee’s on the other side of him, her cell phone at her ear.
When she spots us, she says in a low voice, “They’re here. I’ll call you back.” And ends the call.
My mother’s head jerks up. She slaps the knife down and turns to face us. Then she zeroes in on our joined hands and glares at Drew.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, showing your face here again.”
Drew takes a resigned breath and tries to answer, “Carol-“
My mom cuts him off at the knees. “I don’t want to hear it! You don’t get to talk.” She points at me. “I realize my daughter is a grown woman, but to me? She’s my baby. My only baby. And what you’ve put her through is inexcusable.”
He tries again. “I understand-“
“I said you don’t get to talk! There’s nothing you can say that will make this better.”
“Kate and I-“
“Shut up! When I think about how she looked when she got here . . . What makes you think you can just waltz back into her life, after the things you said to her? After what you did!”
Drew keeps his mouth closed.
And my mother yells, “Well, don’t just stand there! Answer me!”
I’ve always thought of my mother as calm in the face of chaos. Rational. That image is now totally blown.
Drew opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, he turns his baffled eyes to me. And I come to the rescue. “Mom, it was all a horrible mistake. Drew didn’t know about the baby.”
“You said you told him about the baby-and his reaction was to hire a cheap stripper!”
And my newly retitled boyfriend thinks it’s a good idea to point out, “She wasn’t cheap, believe me.”
I dig my fingernails into his palm to shut him up.
Then I explain to my mom, “No, he didn’t know. He thought I was talking about something else. It was a misunderstanding.”
Dee Dee interjects, “Now there’s a song I’ve heard before. That tune’s starting to get real old.”
I roll my eyes. “Not now, Dee.”
My mother folds her arms and taps her foot. “I won’t have him under my roof, Katherine. He’s not welcome here.”
And this is why you should never complain to your family about your significant other. They don’t know him like you do, and they sure as hell don’t love him like you do. So they will never-ever-forgive him like you will.
Even though I can see where my mom is coming from, I’ve kind of got a lot on my plate at the moment. And she’s really not helping the situation.
“If that’s the case, then I won’t be staying here either.”
My mom looks shocked and her arms drop to her sides.
And Delores says, “Hey, Moron-” Drew looks her way. “Yes, you. This is the part where you’re supposed to say you don’t want to come between Katie and her mother. That you’ll go stay at a hotel.”
Drew snorts. “Guess I’m not that chivalrous. I’m staying with Kate. Where she goes, I go.”
Dee smirks. “Aww, it’s like Jack and Rose on the Titanic.” She raises her hand. “Who else is hoping Douche Bag ends up the same way Jack did?”
I ignore her and stay focused on my mother. Whose voice turns imploring. “It’s been an emotional day, Katie. You need space, distance, so you can think clearly.”
I shake my head. “No, Mom. I’ve had all the distance I can stand. Drew wants this baby. He loves me. We need to talk, to work things out.” I glance at Dee Dee. “Without audience participation.”
Then I turn back to my mother. “And this wasn’t all his fault. I made mistakes too.”
Like many mothers, mine is hesitant to acknowledge her child’s shortcomings. “Is that what he told you? That this is your fault?”
“No, it’s what I know. Part of this is my fault, Mom.” I sigh. “Maybe it’d be best for everyone if Drew and I do go to a hotel.”
Stubbornness is apparently hereditary, because then she says, “No. I don’t want you at a hotel. If you want him to stay, then I won’t object. But I don’t like it.” She glares at Drew. “You just keep away from me, if you know what’s good for you.”
Then she stomps out of the room.
George stands up. “I should go talk to her.” Before he leaves, he turns to Drew and holds out his hand. “Glad to see you, son.”
Drew releases my hand to shake George’s, which morphs into a back-slapping man-hug. “Good to know someone is, George.”
George smiles and follows after my mother.
Then Billy stands up in front of us.
If you look closely, you can actually see Drew’s chest puff out-like an ape in the jungle wild, preparing to fight to the death over the last banana.
“Got something you want to add, Warren?”
Billy looks at Drew. And then dismisses him, turning his gaze toward me.
“I told him you’d be at the park because I knew it was what you would’ve wanted.”
I smile kindly. “It was. And I appreciate that you did. We both do.”
I nudge Drew with my elbow. He just shrugs, noncommittedly.
And Billy says, “You don’t need him, Katie. It’s that simple.”
“I love him, Billy. It’s that simple.”
He holds my gaze another moment, then shakes his head and raises his hands in surrender. “For the record? You two need buckets of therapy, like yesterday. Trust me, I know dysfunctional when I see it.”
I nod once. “We’ll keep that in mind.”
Drew scoffs, “Whatever.”
Delores stands up next to Billy and addresses Drew. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you try to claw your way out of the shit-filled septic tank you’ve dug for yourself. That’s going to be better than anything I can think of to do to you.” She adds as an afterthought, “And if it’s not . . . I’ll have to get really creative.”
Don’t be too disappointed in Dee’s lack of retribution. Like the true friend she is, she respects my choices, even if she doesn’t agree with them. She knows when to back off and let me handle things.
Or . . . she’s just biding her time.
Dee pulls me into a hug and says in my ear, “Don’t let him fuck his way out of this one. Multiple orgasms are just a Band-Aid, not a cure.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, Dee.”
She turns to Billy. “Come on. Let’s see if Amelia can stop doing the dirty with Sherriff Mitchell long enough to make us some dinner.”
Billy grimaces. “Way too soon to joke about that.”
They walk out the back door, leaving Drew and me on our own.
I run my hand up his bicep. “George isn’t the only one who’s glad to see you. In case I didn’t say it earlier . . . I’m really happy you’re here.”
Drew smiles tenderly and touches my cheek. “I know.”
Images
We go upstairs to my room, and I close the door behind me. I walk around the bed and slip off my shoes, pushing them under. The shades are drawn, and I turn on the bedside lamp, casting the room in a warm, dim glow.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.