My mom and mama have both been bombarding me with these questions the past couple of days, but where one lacks subtlety, the other does not.
“If there was a reason, I’m sure she’d have told us. Right, baby?” Mom asks, her lifelong experience as a youth therapist paying off in the way she words her questions.
I can tell it frustrates Mama sometimes to see her wife understand us in a way that she doesn’t always, but she never makes a big deal out of it. And I try my best not to make her feel like she’s doing anything wrong simply because she doesn’t know the exact right way to handle certain situations.
I tighten my hair tie and then slip my shoes on. “I’m just ready for something else. I’m home now, and I don’t want to have to move backward from where I was in Calgary.”
“You wouldn’t be. It’s perfectly healthy for adults to move back into their parents’ house at any time if they need to,” Mom argues.
“Jen,” Mama says on a long outward breath. Focusing on menow, she steps around my suitcase. “We support your decision, Daisy.”
Mom gets off the couch and rushes toward me. Once I’m in her arms, she kisses my head a half dozen times. “Of course we support you. Doesn’t mean I love the idea.”
“I’m not a kid anymore. None of us are,” I whisper.
Her arms grow tighter around me. “I know. I’ve already said goodbye to you a million times and just hoped it would be a little longer before I had to again.”
I let all my arguments die.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve been moved out for years or that I’ve been staying with Johnny and not them since I got back. The few minutes it’ll take to drive from Bryce’s house to this one is a pointless fact.
My moms have been without kids in their house for a while now, and I think they just miss us. We’re a big, close family, and now, the house is empty and quiet.
“We’ll cook your favourite meal this week. How about that? You can tell us all about your new classroom and how you’re feeling before the first day of school,” Mama suggests.
Mom pulls back but doesn’t release me fully, keeping her hands on my arms. “That wasn’t really a question, by the way. It’s a summons.”
“Good thing I was going to say yes, then,” I tease.
“Let our baby go so she can get out of here. You can’t keep her stuck to your side by grasping onto her like that,” Mama says.
She closes a palm over Mom’s hand and gently pulls it from my arm. The wedding ring on her finger makes my chest swell with emotion, a fierce sense of happiness filling me. They’ve been married for what feels like ever, and I swear they look more in love every passing day.
“Thanks, Mama. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
Mom looks around the room, brows furrowed. “We’ll help take your suitcases out to the truck. Where’s your brother?”
“Johnny! Come here, turd face!” I shout.
“C’mon, I could have done that,” Mama mutters.
With a shrug, I walk around them to lift the handle of my first suitcase. “He’s hiding somewhere pouting.”
“Probably in the backyard,” Mom huffs before disappearing in search of him.
Once she’s gone, Mama comes closer, pulling me into her arms with tight squeezes. I release the handle of my suitcase and breathe in her perfume, shutting my eyes.
The bond I share with Mama is something I would go to the ends of the Earth to protect. Mom is an incredible mother, but Mama has always got me in a way that I feel deep in my soul. Maybe it’s all of her counselling experience or something bigger than that; I’ll never know.
I’ve been lucky enough to be raised by two amazing women who I’ve grown to idolize. But it was Mama who I sat down with first on my sixteenth birthday and came out to as a lesbian. I don’t have an explanation as to why I didn’t go to them both together other than I felt like Mama would understand me the best. She reacted the way I expected her to and hugged me so tight I thought my bones would pop out of their sockets. Five minutes later, Mom was joining us, and they were telling me how happy they were that I felt comfortable enough with them to share that part of myself. I don’t think I’ve ever told them just how much I appreciate their support.
“Daisy, please tell Mom to stop bringing up why you’re moving out of my place!” Johnny yells, his footsteps heavy on the floor as he heads our way. “She’s embarrassing me!”
Mama laughs into her hand as I roll my eyes and drag my luggage with me to the front door. Johnny appears with a huff and takes a long look at my suitcase.
“Don’t huff at me,” I say. “And you don’t get embarrassed by anything.”
“I’ll huff if I want to. Now, come on, I need to have time to give Ice my big brother speech before you kick me out.”