Page 78 of Crash

“I’ve lost my lady boner,” I say, knowing exactly who just texted. I roll off his body. Since our lunch, my mother has started to text me regularly, but sometimes, when I don’t respond, she will text us both. He grabs both our phones, tosses me mine before pulling me back on top of him. He places a possessive hand on my butt to hold me in place as he reads the text.

“She wants to confirm we’re coming tomorrow.”

“I figured.” I try to roll off his body, but he tightens his hold.

“I’m going to text back that we’ll be there at seven.” He starts to text, and I reach over to snatch the phone, but he dodges my hand. “You said you would go.”

“I know. I know,” I say, testier than I intended. “I can go alone. I never intended to drag you into my mess. Or we can do something else like stay home and watch John Wick. Or go to the dentist. Give Zeus a bath or polish your mom’s china. Anything would be more fun.”

“It’s not a mess, and I want to be there for you.” I try to roll off him again, but he holds me in place. “Talk to me.”

Resigned, I make myself comfortable on top of him and trace my hand along the side of his body.

“It’s just that, it doesn’t take twenty-one years of neglect away. In my head, I understand she was sick. I believe everything she told me, and I want her to get better, but it doesn’t erase my feelings of abandonment. It doesn’t take away twenty-one years of thinking my mother didn’t love me. On top of that, I feel guilty and selfish for even having these feelings. I want to be able to just hug and forgive her, but it’s hard, Luke. I’m sorry she pulled you into this, and I’m embarrassed that you see what messed up bullshit I come from when you have this perfect family. I’m so jealous of your family.”

I hide my face in the crook of his neck as he glides his fingertips up and down my spine. In all the years we’ve known and feuded with each other, I never thought I’d see the day that Lucas Clark would become my lover and best friend.

“All reasonable feelings to have, love,” he says. I nearly swoon at the endearment, the one he uses when it’s just us. “You just found out these things. You have to process them, but you’re willing to try. I’m proud of you.”

He places a kiss on my forehead while he wraps both arms around me.

“And it hurt me when she said she was at a point where she wanted to end it all. I’d never have forgiven myself if she hurt herself. I don’t know what to do, and I hate that.”

He’s quiet for several minutes, but I know he’s thinking and processing my words.

“You know what to do. You’re just scared, but you don’t have to be. I’ll be there with you.”

“I want to get to know her. I want to give her a chance. I’d love to have a relationship with my mom like what Sandy and Tash have, or what you have with Lil, but part of me wants to punish her too. I know I can’t because I don’t want to be that petty or vindictive.”

The only sound I hear is the beating of his heart as I wait for him to speak. He’s quiet for several more minutes as he glides his fingers along my spine.

“Here’s what I think. I don’t think there is a right or wrong way for you to feel. I think all of your feelings are valid. The important thing is that you have an opportunity. You don’t want to look back years from now and realize you chose bitterness instead of forgiveness. And don’t forget you still have the chance to address your feelings to her in front of her therapist. I think you should take her up on the offer to go to therapy and tell her exactly what you told me. Get it off your chest. Yell at her if you want. It will be ugly and painful, but then you can really start to form a relationship. If you keep those things inside, they will fester. The girl in my arms won’t let her feelings fester and rot from the inside out. She’s brave. She’s a fighter. And more importantly, she’s honest. That’s what I think.”

We’re quiet again as I absorb his words. I want to be the woman he just described, but the only way I can be that person is to face my mother and tell her my thoughts and fears.

“Whoever thought there would be a day when Lucas Michael Clark would be my best friend? Okay. I’m going in with an open mind. I want a relationship with her. I’ve really missed having a mom, and as much as I love my aunt, it’s not the same.”

“I know. You can have it, though. It will take some work, but it’s possible.”

“Hop on,” Luke says. “I’m going to do a lot of eating, so I need this.” I climb on his back and he jogs a few steps to the front door. She lives on a quiet, tree-lined street in a white triplex.

By the time he walks up the few steps to the front door, she’s already pulled the door open. She’s anxious, and I observe her expel a breath when she sees us. It’s not just happiness at seeing us. It’s more like relief. I slide down Luke’s back, and she pulls me into a hug before letting me go and hugging Luke.

“I’m so glad you two are here. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” We follow her to the second floor into her apartment. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Our old house was filled with so much big, dark furniture you could hardly take a few steps without bumping into something. This is furnished, but the furniture is inviting and light. There’s a neutral colored sectional in the middle of the living. The kitchen has a white round table with four chairs and a vase of yellow roses on top. There’s tasteful art hanging on the walls along with a few school photos of me as a kid.

“I hope you two are hungry. I’ve been cooking all day. I make the salmon for you, Vivienne. I make steak too because I didn’t know if Lucas likes the fish. I have meatballs and crab cakes. Oh, and I have cheese and crackers. Are you thirsty?” She speaks fast, not giving us time to respond to her words. “Sit. Sit.” We both take off our coats and hand them to her. Luke sits and pulls me down next to him, his arm holding me close. “Stand,” she says abruptly. “I’m so rude. Let me give you a tour.” We stand, and she shows us the master bedroom and the second room, which she says is for me. There’s a queen-sized four-poster bed and a dresser. “I have something to make a canopy, but I will need help. You can come and stay whenever you want. Lucas, you want wine?” She rambles some more as she shows off the rest of the house, nervously looking back to gauge our reaction along the way.

“What do you think?” she asks, swinging her arms in a way I’ve never seen before.

“It’s nice,” I manage to squeak out.

“I got the furniture for your room because it was on sale but figured you can decorate it any way you want. Maybe we can go shopping?” She briskly walks away to the kitchen. She opens the refrigerator door but makes no attempt to get anything. She runs her hand through her hair several times before laying a hand on her hip. After about a minute of staring at the fridge, she snaps her fingers, reaches inside and grabs two bottles of water.

“You don’t want to take this one shopping,” I say, pointing at Luke. “He never checks prices and doesn’t know the meaning of the word budget.”

“What’s a budget?” Luke asks, shrugging his shoulders.

Mom smiles at us.

---