Page 54 of Ripped & Shipped
She follows Kassie into the kitchen.
“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Alex asks me.
“Nah. Maybe next time.”
“I’m glad you went on a date, Cap. In all seriousness, having Courtney by my side these past few years has saved my life. I still had to do the hard work, mentally and physically, but she’s the whole reason I pushed through—her and Kassie. If you find something like that, well, you’ll know when you do. And the only way to find it is to put yourself out there.”
“Thanks, Yoda.”
Alex makes his voice a little nasally and scratchy and says, “The greatest teacher, failure is.”
“I’m not about to fail.”
“I sincerely hope you don’t. You deserve the best, Cap.”
CHAPTER19
Ella Mae
“Hey, Mom,”I say out my rolled-down window as I park on the driveway of her property—the home I grew up in, even after Dad left us. At least he had the decency to leave Mom the house.
She looks up from the flowerbed where she’s pulling weeds. Her floppy sun hat keeps me from seeing her eyes.
“Oh, hey, Ella Mae. I’ve been wonderin’ when you’d come out here.”
Mom doesn’t live on the ranch side of town. Her property is on one of these older, larger lots down the pike that leads southbound from the outskirts of Bordeaux. The flat, grassy landscape is dotted with houses and only one or two trees on each property. It’s pretty common to see a well-used plastic swimming pool in a front yard, or a swing that looks as old as my grandma hanging from a branch of a tree off to the side of the house. Other homes have dilapidated cars that someone meant to repair and just never got around to, or an old washing machine set out for who-knows-why and left to rust. It’s not the slums, but it’s not a place someone would aspire to wind up living out their later years of life.
The people out this way either want to be left alone, or they can’t afford the house they’d really rather own somewhere else in town. My mom qualifies for a bit of both those reasons.
The morning already feels a bit muggy. And mom’s guilt trip only adds to my sense of suffocation.
“You’ve been on my mind,” I tell her as I step out of the car and walk toward her.
My words are hopefully a gesture of penance, making up for me living my own life and leaving her partially in the dust.
Moms. Am I right?
On one hand, she’s the most precious person in my life, the one who unequivocally believed in me, who always pushed me to grow, who stuck by me when so many around here haven’t. On the other hand, my mom gives me the most messed up mixed messages, and because of who she is in my life, they sink to the deepest recesses of my heart and take hold.
Growing up, Mom always told me I was exceptional.
You’re so special, Ella Mae. You’re not like these other people around here. You’re beautiful. You’ve got spunk. You’re made for something great. Get yourself out of this town and take all those qualities that make you fabulous and go get your big life. The only life you can have in Bordeaux is a small one. And no matter what, never let anyone relegate you to second place.
I felt like a prizefighter at the side of a boxing ring—pumped and ready to take on the world.
But then she’d turn and say,Never leave me, baby girl. You’re really all I’ve got. After your dad left, you were the only thing that kept me pushing on. If you left Bordeaux, I don’t know what I’d do. You’re my sunshine, Ella Mae.
That second layer made me feel like I stepped in the ring and went down on a one-two punch before the fight even started.
Logically, I’m smart enough to see the mind trip my mom laid on me. I know this is all about her issues, not mine. But for some reason, the part of me that makes choices always factors my mom into every move I make. I may be her sunshine, but she’s my gravity—pulling me to earth, holding me back, yet also strangely keeping my world together.
“I saw that live video last Wednesday.”
As I walk toward Mom, I notice how badly the grass needs mowing. I know better than to wear my good shoes out here, so I’m sporting a pair of red converse all-stars. They’re old and comfy. I’m wearing a vintage red T-shirt and jeans shorts. It’s sort of a Hollywood starlet going to the market on Saturday and caught off guard by the paparazzi look.
I kneel next to Mom and start pulling weeds with her. It’s something we did when I was growing up. Ironic how I never do yard work around Meg’s and my place. But with Mom, it just feels right.
“Did you hear me?” Mom asks.
