Page 63 of Daisies & Devin
Itwas always imperfect timing. In the moments when I was truly blissful, Mom hadto call. And it wasn’t that I didn’t adore my mother, or that I didn’t want tohear from her. It was that, since my father’s death, she served as the reminderof the life I had tried to leave behind, when I moved to River Canyon withBrooke. I abandoned her in that house, knowing very well she would die there withthe memories suffocating her. I just couldn’t let it drag me down too, and Ihated myself for it.
Ithadtried to help her. I invited her to have dinner with Devin and me. Iinvited her to the coffee shop, to the movies, to lunch and to go shopping. Onthe few times she accepted, she spent the time walking in a daze of sorrow andloneliness.
Ieventually stopped asking.
“Whydo you keep apologizing? I love your mom,” Devin assured me. I just sighed,staring out the window, tapping my knuckles against the glass.
“Thisisn’t how we should be spending our first night as a couple,” I said, unable tostop myself from smiling at the thought of us being a couple at all.Finally.
Hereached across the center console to take my hand and interlocked our fingers.My heart jolted at how perfect we fit. “Okay, is it ideal? Not really, but whenwas the last time she invited you over for dinner?”
Truthfully,it had been months since I’d even seen my mother, and our conversations werehad mostly through texting. I nodded as I said, “That’s a good point. And wedon’t have to stay long. We can eat and get out of there,” I threw in, becausethe last thing I wanted was to dwell too long on how Dad’s boots werestillby the door. Not today.
Devinsqueezed my hand. “It’ll be fine. And hey, it’ll make your mom happy that youfinally got yourself a real man.”
Isnorted lightly, but my heart warmed to the possibility that she might find itin herself to be genuinely happy about something again. Maybe she’d evenappreciate the surprise, maybe she’d find some hope for our future as a family.I mean, maybe it was jumping the gun a little, butneverbeforehad there been a possibility of a son-in-law or grandchildren inmy mother’s future. Not with Nate, not with anybody else, but I knew withstartling clarity that if Devin had asked me to marry him right then and there,I would have said yes.
Isqueezed his hand and I smiled.
Thisis a good thing.
?
Thelast time I had stepped foot in my childhood home over six months ago, the househad been no different than the night she’d found my father dead in the basementden. Even down to the empty bottle of beer placed on the dusty old rug in frontof the couch.
Istopped saying anything about the condition of the house years ago, when Irealized it would only lead to an argument. I knew if I kept pushing, one, orboth of us, would shut the other out permanently and I couldn’t allow that. So,I kept my mouth shut, and my visits less frequent.
Itold myself it was better for us both, and I was never sure I believed it.
Buton the day that Devin and I finally became a couple, I walked through the samedoor I had walked through every day until I was almost twenty-four, and into ahouse I no longer recognized. Devin noticed it too, immediately turning to mewith a look of both shock and something dangerously close to worry.
“Heykids!” My mother hurriedly moved from the kitchen into the living room to planta quick kiss to my cheek. “Kylie, don’t you ever get tired of the purple hair?”
Iwould’ve responded with something equally obnoxious, as mothers and daughterssometimes do, but I was too busy gawking at the woman I had known since beforebirth.
“God,Devin, did you get taller since the last time I saw you?” She stood on hertoes, looping one arm around his neck. He met her halfway, kissing her on thecheek as she reciprocated.
“Nope,still five-two,” he quipped, and she smacked his chest.
“IfI asked your mother, she’d probably tell me you wereneverfive-two,”she said with a pursing of her lips. Was she wearinglipstick?
“Ifyou asked my mother, she’d also tell you she’s twenty-nine,” he responded witha smug grin.
“Oh,we’re the same age then!” Mom chirped with a laugh, hurrying back into thekitchen. “You know, youreallyshould have your parents over sometime.God, I can’t even remember the last time I saw them! It’d be so nice to—”
Sheprattled on and I tuned her out as I grabbed Devin’s bicep. I pulled at himuntil he brought his ear to my mouth and I hissed, “Is this the fuckingTwilightZone?”
Hiseyes widened as he said, “I know, right? I didn’t want to say anything becauseshe seems good, but …” His gaze wandered the room and they landed on thebrand-new end table. “The book, KJ,” he mentioned in a low voice.
Themodern, glass-topped table still housed the Tiffany-style lamp, but my father’sbook was missing. The book she had left there, with the bookmark tucked betweenpages one and two, after I’d thrown it and lost its place.
All ofthose years, and allof those moments I had begged her to put it away, back on a shelf or in thefucking garbage can. At the sight of the barren tabletop, gleaming translucentunder the spinning ceiling fan, I wanted to take them all back. My lower lipquivered uncontrollably as I wondered where it went. If I could put it backwhere it belonged without her noticing.
“Kylie,”Devin said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.“It’s okay. This is a good thing.”
“Iknow,” and I sniffled against him. “I know that. It’s just … it’s just a lot totake in, and I don’t knowwhyshe’s …”
“Yeah,”he agreed, and he kissed the top of my head. “Come on. Before she realizesshe’s still talking without an audience.”
