Page 44 of Unhurried Hearts

I nod. “Yeah. If you think it’s the best fit.”

When we have the surprisingly cushy shoes and socks, we find a sleeping bag and pad which looks far too thin to be comfortable. It looks like aluminum foil and an egg carton had a love child.

“Last thing is the tent, right?” I imagine myself struggling with poles the length of my body while Chris takes a nap in his perfectly assembled abode.

“We’ll find something light for you. Your pack is already going to be pushing it for weight.”

“We’re not going to…share a tent?”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “My tent is too small.”

“I’m small. Child’s pack, remember?” I point at the heap of fabric at my feet, hoping to use it to my advantage.

He remains unconvinced. “There’s no hurry, Annie.”

I wink. “You are the expert.” He leans in and kisses me chastely. I sway towards him for more but he’s already gathering up my pile of purchases and heading to the till. The shining, yellow eyes of a cougar stare down at me from a pretend boulder. Her mouth is slightly open like she’s panting.

“Me too, girl,” I tell her. “Me too.”

***

The decision to call my mom from The Roastery later that afternoon is a calculated one. If I’m in the presence of others, I’m far less likely to raise my voice or dissolve into a puddle of tears. Those are two very possible outcomes. Choosing a time when I’m calm, sort of, gives me a small sense of power that I never had when I was young. My confidence is bolstered by my morning with Chris. If I can go on a two-night fall camping trip next weekend, surely I can call my mom from my favourite coffee shop. She answers on the first ring, like she was waiting for my call.

The relief in her voice is obvious. “Anna?”

“Hi, Mom.”

I don’t bother giving excuses about how I’ve been so busy or that my phone has been acting up or how the West Coast had a freak storm that incapacitated all cell towers. I’ll save the pretend storm for when I’m trying to get out of visiting.

“The reason I was calling is because…”

Even through the phone her breath sounds shaky.

She continues, “This is hard over the phone.”

I try to not let my imagination run away. Surely if something had happened to a relative, I’d have heard that from Ashlyn.

“I owe you an apology.”

I give my head a shake, looking around the coffee shop to ensure I’m still in the same reality.

“For what?”

“Thad and I are…separated. We’re divorcing.”

Her voice is firmer. Like maybe she’s still having to convince herself. I smother the ember of hope that ignites in my heart. Just because she’s leaving Thad doesn’t mean things will magically be better between us. Plus, what kind of asshole is happy to hear her mom is going through a divorce?

“Um, are you okay?” I ask, trying to infuse some empathy into my question.

“I read this book about…parents who don’t have close relationships with their adult children.”

She sounds embarrassed and a bit of shame washes over me, too.

“It was a hard read at first. I was very…defensive. But it prompted me to go to a therapist, a real one, not just someone at the church.”

My shoulders shake in a shudder as I remember how the leaders of Thad’s church would try to solve everyone’s problems with a bible passage and more fervent prayer.

“Oh, Anna, it was like I had blinders on. From the moment we were married, and we moved in with him he changed. I lost who I was, who I am. I pushed you to be someone you aren’t. I am sorry and I know you might never forgive me.”

---