Page 129 of Falling

“Oh, it’s been wonderful. I wasn’t expecting this many people to show up,” she says with a huff. “It’s a lot better now that you’re here. I’m really glad you came.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I say. Clattering sounds behind us, and my mom's head shoots back on instinct. She rolls her eyes, knowing she’s going to have to see what that was. “Do you want me to go take care of that?”

“No. No,” she says, shaking her head and gesturing to the seat by the kitchen island, “Sit. I want to catch up. How are you? How have you been holding up?”

I don’t know why her kindness shocks me. I guess a stupid part of me thought we’d skip over this part and pretend that we’ve been speaking regularly for months. I take a seat, dragging a paper plate toward me so I have something to do with my hands.

“I’ve been okay. Keeping busy with school and hockey,” I say, and she smiles. “I’m sorry for not checking in as much.”

“Don’t be,” she replies, pressing her hand over mine. “The phone works two ways. I should have checked in on you more, but I just…” She heaves out a heavy sigh, and I blink at her. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me, and I didn’t want to push you into speaking with me.”

My heart stutters at her words. “I always want to hear from you, Mom. I’ve been really stuck in my head these last few months, but I don’t want that to dictate our relationship anymore. I acted like an idiot, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, my love,” she whispers, “for everything.”

I swallow, and my eyes meet hers. “I know.”

She wipes the corner of her eye and laughs quietly. “Come on. I don’t want to cry on my birthday. Let’s get you some food.”

I know it’s going to take a while for us to get back to how we were, but this feels like a step in the right direction.

It’s notuntil after one in the morning when the party is finally over. The only people left to clean up are me, my parents, and Clara.

Even though I was dreading it, the party didn’t turn out to be that bad. I got to see tons of my family that came from up and down the globe for my mom's birthday. She was constantly showered with compliments and given hundreds of presents, which were mostly wine and flowers. The cake flip went well after years of practice, and the speeches made my mom cry.

We all said something nice about her too—even me. I cheated a little and just said that I’m grateful to have her as a mom. Because I am. As much as what she did is still going to take time to heal, I’m ready to give myself that time and the space for healing.

Clara has taken the backyard to clean up, and dad’s taken the front. I don’t know what mom has done, but the living room is spotless again. She’s a magician, I swear. I’ve been trying to clean up the hallways, picking up paper plates and SOLO cups until I walk down the left corridor where the bedrooms are.

The door to my parents’ room is cracked open a few inches, and when I walk closer, I spot my mom in there. She’s sitting on the bed, still wearing her birthday sash and crown as she looks through photos spread out on the bed. I try to look without being seen, ready to walk past this private moment.

“Can you believe you were this small?” she says quietly, not looking up from the photo in her hand. “I can tell you’re there, Miles.”

I walk into the bedroom cautiously. I sit down on the king-sized bed, and I’m instantly reminded of waking up here on Christmas morning.

The bedroom is filled with large boxes as if they’ve just moved in. It’s really just a lot of childhood memories like our baby clothes, birthday cards, and some of our old toys. They’re both too afraid to keep them in the basement, and they said it makesthem feel closer to us when we’re away from home. Some people would think it’s cluttered, but I think the sentiment is sweet.

I take up one of the photos, and it’s of me and my dad, riding my first bike down our neighborhood street. The memories look brighter and even better than I remembered them.

“I remember this day,” I murmur, holding up a picture of the first hockey game I went to. I’m in a jersey five sizes too big for me, sitting on my mom’s knee with a hockey cap on her head.

“I do too. You couldn’t keep still, butevery timeI tried to pass you to your dad, you didn’t want to go to him. You were such a momma’s boy,” she says ruefully.

“Yeah.”

A wave of comfortable silence settles over us as we look through the pictures. The memories seem so close yet so far away from where I am now. I’m turning twenty in a few months, and a huge part of me still feels like a kid. A huge part of me stillactslike a kid.

“I’m sorry, Miles,” my mom murmurs, snapping me out of my trance. She’s still looking down at the pictures, running her finger across one of them. “I ruined this bond between us last year. It would be unfair of me to keep ignoring what has happened between us.”

“I didn’t make it easy for you either. I just… I thought you guys loved each other,” I whisper. She looks up at me, and I can see the tears lining her eyes. It’s hard thinking you know someone your whole life, then realize some of it was a lie.

“Idolove your dad, and I love you and Clara more than anything. I made a mistake, but your dad and I found each other again. The most important thing is that we’re happy now.”

“Are you though? Happy, I mean.”

“More than anything. That's all that matters.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

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