“I left home for a reason.” My body tenses and my responses are short. I just want to change the subject while I process it all.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you and him, and it’s a lot for me. I don’t want you to regret anything in your life. There are a lot of things I wish I would have done differently and didn’t. I don’t want the same for you. Don’t allow your internal anger to stop you from seeing your father while he’s still alive. If any man on this earth has regrets, it’s him. He knows what he’s done.” A single tear streams down her cheek. She wipes it with her napkin, then composes herself. My mother is practically unbreakable.
I grab her hand across the table. “Mom.”
She looks up at me, and I squeeze her hand just a little harder. “I’m sorry. I’m always here for you.”
“You’re my rock, Travis. Always so strong and brave. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
We leave the restaurant and listen to oldies on the radio on the way back to the house. My phone dings, and I smile when I see Viola’s name.
Viola
Please save me. Drew is singing Britney Spears. This is the longest, most torturous ride home ever.
I smile as I type out a response.
Travis
Well, I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU, baby, even though you’re TOXIC, I was BORN TO MAKE YOU HAPPY.
Viola
YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY!
Travis
I’M NOT A GIRL, NOT YET A WOMAN!
Viola
That actually makes a lot more sense now.
Travis
Don’t get cocky.
I chuckle at our Britney Spears references and glance back up when Mom pulls into the driveway, and I reach over and give her a hug.
“Tell Drew and Viola I said hello.”
“I will.”
“Take care of that girl, Travis.”
“Huh?” I’m confused.
“Viola. I know you two are seeing each other.”
I give her a look. There’s no way she could know this. Or could she?
“Mother's intuition. Mothers always know.”
I smile, not denying it, and get out of the car. I stand in the driveway with my arms across my chest, and as she backs out of the driveway, I wave. Mom thinks she’s sly, but someone she knows must have seen us together when we had lunch. I try to think back to that moment, but all I can remember is Viola’s face.
I plop down on the couch, trying to focus. My father hascancer. It’s a lot to take in, and so unexpected. Guilt sweeps over me for reacting the way I did, and I try not to get wrapped up in the thought of it. Next week, I’ll call Mom and ask more questions. I’ll be there for her. I have to.