by K. Street
“Mother. I thought we were meeting at the coffee shop.”
“I thought maybe meeting somewhere not so public was a better idea.”
I managed a smile. “I see your point. Come on in.”
I stepped out of the way, and once she was inside, I closed the door.
“Do you want to sit in the living room, or we could sit on the patio? I have a small bistro table out there.”
“Outside sounds lovely. We don’t get this kind of weather in the city in December.”
A few minutes later, we sat opposite each other with the box of pastries opened between us, sipping our black coffees. How we took our coffee was probably the only thing my mother and I had in common.
“Mother,” I said as she said, “Presley.”
“Go ahead.” She sat forward, clutching her disposable paper cup.
“I don’t really know where to go from here. I want a relationship with you, but honestly, I’m not sure what that will look like, all things considered.”
“I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last week, and I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m not sure where we go from here either, but maybe we can start fresh. Just wipe the slate clean.”
I fought to look her in the eye and not drop my gaze to my lap. “I don’t think that’s possible. The wounds run too deep. We can’t pretend they don’t exist.”
“Look, Presley, I’m aware I’m not winning Mother of the Year. I’m sorry I wasn’t the mother you deserve. But your father and I have very demanding careers. You—”
I held up a hand with my palm facing her and tried like hell to rein in my temper. “Stop. You don’t get to sit there and play martyr. And if that is your idea of an apology, it needs some work. When you say the words I’m sorry and you follow it up with a but to justify your actions, all it is, then, is an excuse.”
She looked at me as though I were a stranger, and I guessed maybe I was.
After several quiet seconds, my mother sighed. “You’re right. You want to know something? You’ve changed.”
“That isn’t a bad thing.” I brought my coffee to my lips and took a careful sip.
“It isn’t. There is a fire in your eyes I’ve never seen.”
I shrugged. “I think my give a damn finally busted.”
“It’s more than that. I think that has something to do with Ryder.”
His name on her lips sounded wrong.
She met my eyes over the table. “I went to see him earlier today.”
“You did what?”
“I owed him an apology.”
I gaped at my mother. “You apologized?” If I hadn’t already been sitting, I would’ve fallen over.
“I did.”
“How did you find him?”
“I went to his shop. He’s working on some sort of tree. It’s incredible.”
“That piece is for the new children’s library. It’s set to open in the spring, but rumor has it, there might be delays. You should see his piece inspired by Mary Poppins. He’s beyond talented.” I couldn’t keep the pride from my voice.
“I misjudged him.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Presley, I am so extremely sorry. I’m embarrassed by my behavior. I went after him like he was a criminal I was prosecuting. There is no excuse.”
“You’re right; there isn’t. Thank you for understanding that and for trying to make it right.”
“After you threw us out last Saturday, I was appalled and furious. Once I cooled down, your father and I had a long talk, and I realized all those things you’d said were true.” She pulled the lid from her cup and stared into the contents inside avoiding my gaze. “You see, your father and I never planned to have children. We were both happy with each other and our careers. When I found out I was pregnant, I resented you.” She sharply inhaled. “Wow. I’ve never said those words out loud before.”
A thousand tiny razors raked over my skin.
“I was sick all the time. My body morphed to accommodate a baby I didn’t want, and I no longer recognized myself in the mirror. Then, guilt slammed into me like a tidal wave. What kind of mother feels that way about her child?” She brought her drink to her lips.
I remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
“It took me much longer to embrace the idea of being a parent than it did your father. Even though I hated every single second of being pregnant, I assumed being a parent would come easily enough. That wasn’t the case. Being a mother never came naturally to me. Putting someone else’s needs above my own ambition was completely foreign. I liked my life neat and predictable; you were anything but. To make matters worse, you hated me.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.”
“Most children cry when their parents leave the room. You cried when I entered it.”
Hearing that made me feel sorry for her.
“Every time I held you, you cried. I couldn’t soothe you. I sang, I bounced, I rocked. Nothing I did worked, but the minute I passed you off to your father or a nanny, you would quiet immediately.”
The state of our relationship began making a whole lot more sense.
“That must have been so hard for you.”
She shrugged. “Eventually, I learned to love you, but I never learned how to show you. Instead of taking a closer look at myself, I put you under a microscope. I blamed you for my shortcomings.” Her eyes became glassy as her mask fell away. “I should’ve gotten help, but then someone besides me would have known I’d failed.”
I almost didn’t recognize the woman across from me.
Beneath her hard exterior and sharp edges, my mother was being crushed by the weight of her guilt.
I reached across the table and gently squeezed her hand. Then, I immediately let go. Physical expressions of love had never been part of my and my mother’s relationship, but I couldn’t sit here and not show her a little compassion.
“Mom, it’s not too late, you know. To get help. After everything you just said, I think we both need it.”
“As in therapy?”
“Yes. Dad too. I think we need family counseling. And maybe you should go on your own. Admitting you need support isn’t weak. In fact, it’s the opposite. It takes an inordinate amount of strength to seek help. It’s going to be hard and ugly, but unless we do this, our relationship doesn’t stand a chance. I won’t be a doormat for your disapproval anymore.”
An awkward silence hung in the air as she digested my words.
Finally, she spoke, “I’ll have your father set it up once we’re back home.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” I plucked an apple turnover from the box and then took a bite, trying not to moan. “I can’t believe you brought carbs.”
“I figured you’d be less likely to slam the door in my face.”
“Good call. Carbs are the way to my heart. World peace could probably be achieved over a basket of bread.”
A sound came out of her I’d never heard before.
“Was that a laugh?”
“You’ve heard me laugh before.”
I shook my head. “Not like that. That was real.” It was a sound I wanted to hear again. “You know the story Ryder told you of how we’d met?”
“Yeah?”
“That was actually the story of the second time we met.”
She surprised me when she reached for a cheese Danish. “I’m not sure I follow. You met him before?”
“So have you. Or you saw him at least.”
Her brows dipped. “I have?”
“He was the groomsman I was paired with in Natalia and Kyle’s wedding. We shared a couple of drinks during the reception. He asked me what the craziest thing I had ever done was.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Dyeing my hair blonde.”
“That’s pretty tame. Would your answer be different now?”
“Yes.”
“All right, I’ll bite. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”
>
I waited until her mouth was full. “Had a one-night stand with Ryder DeLuca at Natalia and Kyle’s wedding.”
My mother coughed and reached for her now-cold coffee. “Presley Victoria.” Her shock morphed to laughter, and then she lifted her hand in the air.
I had no idea what she was doing.
Maybe she’s having a stroke.
“Don’t leave your mother hanging.”
I stared at her hand. “Are you waiting for a high five?”
“Obviously.”
I clapped my palm against my mother’s, feeling like I’d been dropped into an alternate universe.
Our laughter mingled, and I hoped with everything in me that this moment was the first of many.
Thirty-Two
Presley
The campus of Oceanside Elementary had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Thousands of twinkle lights shone like diamonds against the darkening sky. Every twenty minutes, strategically placed snow cannons shot tiny flurries of ice into the air. Christmas music filtered through the sound system. Children’s excited voices filled the open space. Parents gathered in small groups, their attention scattered in several different directions as they tried to keep an eye on their kids while staying present in their conversations. A litany of holiday-themed booths stretched as far as the eye could see. I took it all in from my perch at the ticket booth, feeling proud of how well it’d all come together.
From my periphery, I saw a woman approaching the ticket booth.
“Merry Christmas.”
“One hundred tickets.”
Okay then, Ebenezer.
“That will be thirty dollars, please.”
“Thirty?” Angela Smith balked. “I think you’re mistaken. When Davey brought home the form, it said twenty.”
The self-appointed president of the Cashmere Mafia stood in front of me, clutching her Hermès bag and tapping the toe of her Prada shoe. No wonder her kid, Davey, was a little jerk. I sent up a silent thanks for about the millionth time that Davey wasn’t in my class. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with this woman on a regular basis.
“Angela, I am so sorry.” I kept my tone sugary-sweet. “That was the presale price. On that same form Davey brought home, it stated in bold print that ticket prices would be higher at the event. So, if you didn’t take advantage of the presale and you wish to purchase a hundred tickets now, that will be thirty dollars.”
She rolled her eyes, opened her wallet, pulled out a ten to go with the twenty in her hand, and then slapped the cash on the counter in front of me.
I passed her one of the pre-bundled ticket stacks.
“How do I know there are a hundred tickets here?”
“You’re welcome to count them,” I placated.
She huffed and stormed off.
“Good grief,” Kendall commented from beside me. “That woman is a piece of work. Where are you off to next?”
“I need to go relieve the mom manning my classroom booth. What about you?”
“I’m off to Mr. Sharp’s class.”
I nodded. “I’m glad the boys got over not being in the same class.”
“Me too. Though it probably would have been a nightmare for the teacher if they were together.”
I giggled. “Probably.”
“I adore Mr. Sharp, but it would have been cool if the boys had you for a teacher.”
“Brucey, yes. But Zeke? No. That would have been a disaster.”
“Why?”
“Um, because you can’t date the parent or guardian of a student if said student is in your class. Not that it matters now.”
She bumped my elbow with hers. “Everything will work out. You’ll see. Have you seen him yet?”
“No.”
I glanced down at my watch just as our replacements arrived. I handed over the cash box and ticket tally sheet. Then, Kendall and I parted ways.
“How’s it going?” I asked Timmy’s mom as I crossed the threshold into my classroom.
“We just hit a lull. I started bundling your tickets, so hopefully, that helps at the end of the night.”
We had to bundle our tickets and turn them in to be counted, so each class would get credited for the money their particular booth earned. From what I had heard, it took for-freaking-ever if you didn’t get a jump on it. The winter carnival had been a major fundraiser for years, and since Timmy was the youngest of five, Keira was a seasoned pro.
“Thanks, Keira. You’re amazing.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. G. I’ve got to go find my husband before that man feeds our children cotton candy for dinner.”
I waved her off and then started humming a song from the Frozen soundtrack.
“You’re here.” Zeke ran into my room and threw his arms around me.
“Of course I’m here, silly.” I hugged him back, holding on for a few seconds longer than I should have. “Where’s your brother?”
“Talking to some snooty lady. I think her is Davey’s mom. She will not be quiet. When she isn’t looking, Ryder makes a face.”
I stifled a laugh. “Does he know where you are?”
Zeke shrugged. “I think so.”
Which means no.
I would need to text Ryder.
“Hey, Zeke. Do you wanna build a snowman?”
“Yes. Yes.” He jumped up and down and then pulled a wad of tickets out of his pocket. “Do I have enough tickets?”
“Let’s see. I need six tickets. Count them out for me.”
He did as he had been told and passed them over.
“Six. I love six. It’s my favoritest number. And guess what! I am gonna be six in two days. You will come to my birthday party, right? Please come, Presley. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, kiddo. But you see me at school.”
“It’s not the same. Turtle misses you too. And Ryder is grumpy.”
“What do you mean, Ryder is grumpy?”
“I wanted to ride my bike to your house, and he got all bended into a shape.”
“You mean, bent out of shape?”
“Yeah. He looks at his phone all the time. Like he’s waiting for it to make a noise, but it just be black. Maybe his phone is broken. I think him is sad. He is not happy. Not like him was.”
I stroked his hair. “Zeke, don’t worry. Everything will be okay. You’ll see. What do you think? Are you ready to build a snowman?”
“Uh-huh.”
I got Zeke squared away and then shot off a text to Ryder.
Over the next half hour or so, I had a steady stream of children. When the next parent volunteer arrived, I took Zeke by the hand and set off to find his brother.
“Presley.”
I turned at the sound of my name.
I spotted Kendall waving her hand in the air and waved back. Brucey was sitting on Carter’s shoulders, and Ryder brought up the rear. I moved off to the side and waited, so we didn’t lose sight of each other in the throng of people.
When they got close, I moved off the sidewalk and onto the grass, and they followed suit.
I placed my hand on top of Zeke’s head and met Ryder’s stare. “I think I have something that belongs to you.”
“Yes, you do.” His eyes never left mine as he said the words.
Kendall looked between me and Ryder. “DeLuca, we’re kidnapping your kid. Come on, boys. Let’s go check out the ice rink. The line has finally dwindled.” She held her hand out to Zeke.
Before he took it, he looked up at me and crooked his finger, motioning me closer.
I knelt, so we were eye-level.
“ ’Member, my party is in two days. You have to come.”
“We’ll see, kiddo.”
“No. You have to promise,” he insisted.
I glanced up at Ryder, silently asking how he wanted me to handle it. When he nodded his approval, I nearly wept.
“I promise.”
Zeke reached for Kendall’s hand. “We can go now.”
Carter lifted Brucey
off his shoulders but kept hold of his hand. Then, he motioned between me and Ryder. “Fix it.”
Ryder and I watched them walk away, and then our gazes found each other.
The world around us kept moving, but we were suspended in our own little bubble.
“I’ve missed you,” I told him.
“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart. More than you could fathom.”
“I kind of lost it with my parents.”
“I know. Your mom came to see me.”
“She told me. She agreed to see a therapist. We’re going to do family e-counseling sessions. I told her it was the only way for us to have a relationship.”
“That’s fantastic, Pres. I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself.”
His praise was a warm blanket for my soul.
I took a deep breath, and when I exhaled, the words rushed out of me. “Ryder, I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too, baby.”
“I never went to that stupid gala. I wouldn’t do that to you. Or to us.”
“I know.” He laced his fingers with mine just as the snow cannon went off.
We both looked skyward and then at each other. In a sea of twinkle lights, with almost snow raining from the heavens, Ryder whispered the softest kiss against my lips.
“I love you, Presley.”
“I love you. So much.”
“Are we okay?”
“We’re more than okay. If we weren’t surrounded by all these people, I’d kiss the hell out of you. Given the circumstances, that would be highly inappropriate. Might I interest you in a snow cone? Afterward, we can hit up the silent auction.”
“I would love that.”
After we ate our snow cones, we made it to the silent auction right before the bidding closed. Ryder won two bottles of wine from Turner Creek Winery and a couples weekend getaway to someplace called Maplewood Falls in northern Georgia. He’d outbid Angela Smith seconds before the auction closed.
Karma was a beautiful thing.
Thirty-Three
Ryder
When Zeke had said he wanted a Lego party with a bounce house and a slide, I’d had zero idea what I would be getting myself into. The kid had been literally talking about turning six since the day he turned five. It was a lot of pressure.