by Amy Brent
When we pulled up in front of the complex, I sighed, realizing it was stupid of me to think it would help having her tell me to my face that I wasn’t good enough. When I got upstairs, Sicily greeted me with a big hug and my mom smiled, setting the food down on the table. I washed up for dinner and joined them, listening to Sicily talk about the experiments they were doing in her science lab and how she got to see the Ebola virus under a microscope because the guest speaker from the EPA came by and did a presentation. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the Ebola virus, but I was glad she was enjoying school.
“All right,” I said, looking at Sicily. “Grandma and I will clean up dinner. You go jump in the shower and get ready for bed.”
“Okay,” she groaned, getting down from her chair and kissing me and my mom on the cheek.
I smiled as she ran away, grabbing her pajamas and heading to the hallway bathroom for a shower. I couldn’t believe how grown she was getting, and I could tell my mom was thinking the same thing. She sat back in her chair and looked at me with a knowing stare.
“What’s up?” she said. “You’re looking more dismal than normal.”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m just beat from the weekend and work today. There was a lot of catching up to do.”
“Did you meet anyone at the party you went to? Maybe a woman?”
“No,” I scoffed, still thinking about Emma.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I do,” my mom said. “You need to open up a little, find a woman who can love you and Sicily. She’s getting older, and it’s the time where she’ll need a woman in her life.”
“That’s why I moved you here,” I said, smiling.
“She doesn’t need an old lady,” she scoffed. “She needs a mother figure or at the least a strong woman role model who can be her friend and confidante.”
“That sounds fantastic, Mom. Do you know where they grow women like that?”
She ignored my sarcasm. “I loved your father with everything in my soul. When he died, my entire world came to a screeching stop. You were already old enough that you didn’t need another figure in your life, and I knew there would never be another man for me. That was a hell of love story. I couldn’t even imagine living with anyone other than your father, and I still can’t. Josie, your ex, was not that kind of love for you. You still have the chance to be happy in life.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” she said. “There is love and then there is life-changing love. The kind of love that stops you in your tracks, fills your mind, and almost drives you crazy thinking about it. That was the kind of love your father and I had, and I still feel it every day of my life. I want you to find that kind of love, the kind that stops you in your tracks and forces you to rethink everything.”
“That would be great,” I said, shaking my head. “I just don’t know if I’ll ever find that.”
“Well, you better start looking, old man,” she said with a chuckle. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have got to get this old body into bed. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched as my mother walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind her. She only lived a few floors down, which I was glad of since that was part of the deal of moving her to New York City. I cleared the table and did the dishes, waiting for Sicily to get out of the shower. I tucked her into bed, kissed her goodnight, and then headed to my bedroom to relax. I lay for a long time staring up at the ceiling and thinking about what my mother said to me. She talked to me about the great love, the one I knew she had with my father, the one I thought I would have with Josie, but things didn’t turn out like I’d thought they would.
I was starting to think Emma might never get out of my mind, that I would spend an eternity with her laughter echoing through my head. It was a confusing feeling, not knowing what to think about a woman I barely knew who’d left without a word. I was conflicted because though I knew my thoughts were trying to push her out, my heart was keeping her there. I wanted her, but I didn’t, and it was driving me nuts. Emma might have been the love my mother was talking about, but I’d missed it. I’d let it slip right through my fingertips in a haze of whiskey and champagne. I turned on my side and stared at the clock, wondering what Emma was doing, curious to know if she was still thinking about me too. Probably not. I was probably a tiny whisper in her past, a fun guy on vacation, and if I wasn’t, I had no idea if I’d ever see her again.
Want to know how this continues?
Download here (99cents or FREE in KU)
Copyright © 2018 Amy Brent – All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.