Page 101 of Return To You

“Thanks, Ma,” I say, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

“It’s so good to have you back, honey,” Mom says, teary-eyed. “And I know you have to leave again, but hopefully, now with Grace, you’ll come back more often.”

Dad grunts.

“I know life isn’t exactly exciting around here but… oh well—I’ll say it. I was a little hurt you never came back. Sometimes wondered if we said or did something to keep you away, all these years.”

My heart bottoms. ‘"You need to talk to your mom. There’s no way she said it the way you took it." And there it is. Grace was right.

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable about what I’m about to say. The last thing I want is to hurt my mother. “I kinda felt, at the time, that…” How can I put this? “that it’d be better for Justin and-and-and the rest of the family if I stayed away for a while.”

Mom sets her glass on the small table to give me her full attention while Dad grunts, “And why is that?”

I rub my hands together, lean my elbows on my knees. “I felt, at the time, that I could have prevented Justin’s accident.” I raise a pacifying hand toward Mom who’s already starting to voice her disagreement. “That’s how I felt, Mom. Audrey and I had had an argument, and I felt that argument had a bearing on the rest of the evening. I actually know for a fact it did.” I have their attention now. “And uh… in the hours that followed, I wanted to cancel or at least postpone indefinitely joining the Air Force. The fact that I felt responsible for the accident made me argue this with you more forcefully than if I’d had no impact at all on that evening. But you wouldn’t let me.”

Mom jumps in. “Of course not! I had one son whose life had been derailed, I didn’t want another one to give up on his dreams!”

I smile at her. “I… that’s not how I understood it at the time. You said something like I owed it to Justin to go live my life, and I thought… I just thought… anyway. That was stupid—”

Dad just grunts again while Mom pales. “Oh, honey, what I meant was…” She turns to Dad. “How can I put this?”

Dad takes Mom’s hand in his. “Just like you said before, Lynnie. You didn’t want both your sons having their lives on hold.”

Mom’s teary eyes land on me. “I never ever meant you had any kind of debt to your brother. What I meant was, go and enjoy life while you can. Because you never know what might happen. That’s what I meant by owe it to him. As in, live and have fun for the two of you.”

“I see that now, Mom. It’s just… these were messy times for me. I didn’t know how to talk and open up.”

“You had it too hard, as the first born,” Dad states. “I sometimes regret it, and other times, I think this tough upbringing is what made you who you are now. You’re reliable. You put others first. That’s one reason you’re such a good asset to the Air Force—in addition to everything else. I can’t say that I entirely regret putting so much on your shoulders, ’cause most of it, we didn’t have a choice. Your mom was eighteen when you were born, and both our families had thrown us out. But I can tell you now—it’s time to let go and give yourself some grace.”

Mom breathes shakily. “Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way.” She smiles. “Also, honey,” she says to Dad, “good one.”

“What’d I say now?” Dad asks gruffly.

“Give yourself some Grace.”

Dad chuckles. “You’re the worst, woman.”

Mom takes the last sip of her drink and sets it on the small tray holding the liquor. “Welp,” she says, standing, “I’m gonna get myself to bed.” She leans over me and kisses my forehead. “Sleep well, honey.” Then she waves at Dad and wiggles her eyebrows at him. “You know where to find me!” she sing-songs.

I shake my head but can’t stifle the silent laughter shaking my shoulders.

“I’m spending time with my son, woman,” Dad pretends to growl, a wide smile contradicting his tone.

I can’t bring myself to tell my Dad to go warm up Mom’s bed instead of spending time with me. It’s just plain icky. But honestly? I wish I could have that, someday.

After Mom leaves, I go to the kitchen to get a glass of water and then head to the bathroom. When I come back out from the light, I can hardly see, but an unmistakable smell is in the air.

I squint at Dad. “I didn’t know you smoked.” Moonlight contours the white wicker of the chairs and the coffee table, the railing around the porch, Dad’s cigar a glowing ember that brightens as he pulls on it. My eyes slowly adjust to the night, until I can make out his facial expression. Contentedness.

“I don’t.” He eyes me sideways and a silent laughter shakes his whole body. “Siddown.”

I sit at an angle from him, and we stay silent for a while. Then he says, “Your mother doesn’t like it.” Another long silence. “We do a lot of things for the women we love… We think we do it for them. But if you think hard enough about it… they have us do it for our own good.” He takes a long puff of his cigar, then butts the end off. “Least, that’s how I see it.”

It’s good to be with Dad, just like this. Just staring into the quiet countryside. “Here,” he says, pouring from the bottle of Mad River’s Revolution Rye he kept on the floor next to him. “Have another.”

I swirl the amber liquid in the glass and take a swig. It warms my insides and calms my nerves. I sit back in the chair.

“Tell me about… that thing you’ll be going to. This week. What’s that all about?”

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