Page 146 of Summertime Friends

“You went on for years with that story. Abandoning me, treating me poorly. I know you lost your husband, but I lost my dad and mom.”

“That’s—”

“Not true? It is. After that night, it was like neither of you wanted or loved me.”

“Emerson, we’ve always loved you.” Her eyes are watery, probably matching mine.

We both look at each other. We breathe, blink, breathe, blink—over and over for, I don’t know, how long.

“Because of the two of you, I thought there was something wrong with me, that maybe it was me who was unlovable, and that’s why love didn’t exist in my universe. Why didn’t you two work out? Why didn’t you two love me? It didn’t matter in high school. Didn’t matter in college. At least as I got older, it became easier and easier to build up a wall around my heart. I’d place people at a distance without letting anyone get close enough to even dare climb that wall.”

“Emerson—”

I shake my head at her, silently telling her to stop talking and just listen.

“It wasn’t till six years ago that I met someone who dared. He climbed and climbed and climbed and then tore down that wall. With everything in him, he loved me, and I couldn’t allow myself love him back. I was so scared that we’d become the two of you or that I was like an infectious disease, that somehow he’d realize he didn’t deserve me and destroy me.”

“What happened between the two of you?”

“I left—ironically, like the night Dad left. He yelled out my name, begging me not to go, and I didn’t look back as I got in the car to leave.”

“What is his name?

“His name is Liam.”

“Where—where did you meet?”

“That summer, I was in Europe. I met him the day Natalie left.”

“Oh, the young man that traveled with you. I remember Penelope”—Natalie’s mom—“telling me about that. Did you love Liam?”

“Yes.” I finish my matcha and then sip from the glass water cup. “He’s back.”

“Well, that is fantastic!”

“It’s not because I still can’t allow myself to be with him fully. To actually fucking love him.”

“Language, honey,” she whispers like I’m ruining the children’s ears around us. “Is that why you wanted to get lunch? To figure out a way to unlock your heart?”

I nod. Those watery eyes? They are pools now, and a single tear overflows. Quickly, I wipe it away, not wanting to show too much emotion in front of my mom. I hate being a crier. Actually, no. I love how much I feel.

“First off, please know that I love you. Being your mother is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m sorry that for years, I made you feel anything but that. You were not the reason your father left, and I should never have said that. I hope you forgive us both one day for how we treated you, even if it takes the rest of our lives, but please understand now that we love you bigger than the whole sky, always.”

She brushes a tear away from both of my cheeks.

“And look, the thing about love is that it’s not perfect. I could recite to you all the love is kind, love is patient, love is whatever, but I won’t. I’m not saying that’s not true; it is, but love is so much more,” Mom continues. “Love is messy, and it can fail us, but it also reminds us that we are human. We are designed with love inside of us—it’s a chromosome. That’s what makes it real. It’s not a fairytale, made-up romance. It’s a feeling. It’s a decision that we get to choose daily to act on. But even when we don’t, that doesn’t mean we still can’t feel it.” She gives me this knowing look, another reminder that she may have failed to act on her love for me, but she still felt it.

I’m quiet, smiling and staring at her. Her words pour into me, and my brain soaks it all in like a sponge. I can feel the neurons inside my brain firing and rewiring themselves. Mental images of the future, all the possibilities that come with believing love exists, show up in them.

My what-ifs are changing from what if we fail or what if I’m not enough to what if we have kids or what if we celebrate fifty years of marriage?

I can finally feel and see all of it so clearly. And it’s all with Liam.

“Do you want to be with him?” My mom asks.

“Yes.”

“Then be with him. Tell him how you feel. Show up each day ready to choose love. And ready to learn because that’s another thing about love: it’s unique to each of you. It evolves and shifts. To make it work, you have to be flexible with it. Sometimes, the circle has to go through the square hole. Loving him and letting him love you will sometimes feel like that, but that’s when you stay. That’s when you choose love the action, not only love the feeling. Right now, I think you need to do some acting.”

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