“Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”
She came and sat across from me. “Is it…your relationship? Moving back home, that can’t be easy. I know long distance relationships…”
She didn’t finish the statement. I wondered if it was because of the glare I sent her. But then I remembered how much she was doing for me and my mother. I rubbed a hand over my face and took a breath.
“It’s over.” Fuck, just saying that made my heart snap in two. How had that happened? How had a friendship with some lovely benefits turned into something else?
Lora put her hand over mine. “I’m sorry, Cy. Really.” She sat back. “Maybe when your mom is better, you can return to North Dakota.”
“Maybe. But I can’t ask her to wait.”
Lora looked down. “You could. And if she’s a good woman, she’ll wait for you. You’re worth it, Cy. Don’t think you’re not because of what happened with us. I’ve already told you that I regret that. What I regret most is hurting you.”
“Is that why you’re here? Some sort of penance.” I didn’t care why she was here. Whatever the reason, I’d accept her help because my mom needed it. I needed it.
“I care about your mom and you. Although maybe there is some guilt that I’m trying to alleviate. I don’t know. I just know I want to be here for her. And for you.”
“I do appreciate all you’ve done for us, Lora. Really. I probably haven’t said it enough, but I do.”
She nodded. “What about you? What are you doing to take care of you?”
“Me? I’m not the one who needs help.”
She rose from her chair, got the carafe of coffee and refilled my cup, pouring one for herself before putting it on a hot pad on the table.
“Cy, caregivers need to take care of themselves. It’s crucial. You can’t be fully present for your mother if you’re not at full capacity yourself. You need to do something to take care of you every now and then.”
That would require a trip back to see Petal, and I knew that couldn’t happen.
“Go to a movie, exercise, see friends. Many of your old friends are still around here, you know,” Lora finished.
I shrugged. “I don’t much feel like doing any of those things so I’m not sure how it would help.”
She studied me for a moment. “How about dinner at Roscoe’s? You always loved it there.”
“They have good steak.”
She smiled. “It’s settled. You and I will go. How about on Saturday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Cy. Are you really going to turn down great steak?”
It didn’t feel right going out to dinner with Lora and yet, maybe she had a point. In fact, maybe I should take her as a thank you. She’d always liked Roscoe’s too.
“Okay, but I pay. It will be a drop in the bucket for what I owe you, but it’s a start.”
She smiled, and I remembered once being dazzled by it. Then I saw Petal’s and I knew I’d never be as awed by another smile again.
Thanksgiving was a small quiet affair, as it had always been growing up since it was only me and my mom. But this year, instead of her cooking, I’d ordered food that was delivered. We made a pie together, mostly with her instructing me as she sat and watched. I made sure to savor every moment. While Lora assured me that my mother’s treatment and current state were par for the course, there was no guarantee that it was working. This could be my last Thanksgiving with her.
Many moments, I wished my mother had met Petal. I knew the two of them would hit it off.
“Cy. You know you don’t have to move home. I can see you miss your life in North Dakota,” my mother said as I tucked her into bed that night. It was odd switching roles. Not that I was parenting her. She could still give me the stink eye like no one’s business if I was doing something she didn’t like.
“I want to be here,” I said.
“No, you don’t. And it’s hard for me to see you look so sad.”