Page 151 of For Cowgirls and Kings
Certainly not in Mateo and I’s case—we’re the opposites attract kind.
“The problem is, I know you still have a box of my underwear with some family pictures or some shit, hidden somewhere in the house. Which is weird, really weird,” Stetson hisses, pretending to swat away his hand as he tries to take Poppy from her grasp.
“I’m a sentimental guy, what can I say?” Gus shrugs, successfully grabbing his daughter, and hoisting her away.
I shoot Mateo a half-serious glare—you started this—and he just shrugs.
Faith leans toward me, setting her bowl on the table. “I’m so confused,” she whispers.
“I’ve given up trying to understand their bickering. Most of the time it’s just foreplay anyway.” Setting the last remaining dish onto the large wooden table, I trace over everything laid out. It’s not a feast the way Stetson would do it, but it’s a meal, with my family, and it’s enough to make tears prick the corners of my eyes.
When did I become such a fucking mush ball?
Gus coos at Poppy, and it’s enough to make my ovaries quiver—even as I’m in love with an entirely different man.
From the doe-eyed look on Stetson’s face, it’s clear this little girl is going to be the first in a line of many. If seeingGus with Poppy turns me into a pile of mush, it’s turned Stetson into a lust crazed, breeding machine, and I vow to soak up as much baby time as I can now, because in a few short weeks I won’t be caught dead around their house again for a while. Not until they work it out of their systems at least.
My phone rings, the shrill sound cutting through the warm silence settling over the table. I sigh, pushing back to return to the kitchen. Everyone I care about is here, sitting around the table.
I find it, sitting among a pile of dishes on the terracotta tiled countertops Mateo and I installed just last week, and look at the screen. And then continue to look at it as the name flashes over and over, the sudden pounding in my ears drowning out the shrill ringing.
A large hand lands softly on my shoulder, and I snap out of my haze long enough to look up at Mateo. His face is kind, devoid of little emotion beyond understanding and reassurance. And then he presses a kiss to my temple. “If you’re ready, answer it. At least she’s calling.” And then he leaves the room, taking a fresh bottle of wine from the rack with him.
I want to answer. I haven’t talked to my mom since I called her and told her how I felt over five months ago. She hasn’t reached out, and I finally felt at peace with that reality—it hurts but it doesn’t hurt as bad as taking her verbal abuse.
But she’s my Mama, and no matter what’s been said between us, I believe she loves me the only way she knows how.
Before it can go to voicemail, I click answer, and press the phone to my ear. There’s several seconds of weighted silence before I can hear her take a ragged breath.
“Adalene?” Her voice is quiet, hesitant even, and that alone tells me everything I need to know.
“Mama, everything okay?” I ask, careful to keep my own tone soft. I feel like I’m working on parenting my own mother—something my therapist told me is normal in children trying to break generational trauma—and I don’t want to scare her off. This phone call is a big step for her, even if the little girl in me wants to rage that it’s twenty years too late.
I can all but see her face pinching on the other end, like it’s taking everything in her to spit the words out. “I miss you, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Tears—fat, hot tears—roll over my cheeks at the words. I feel like a dam has burst inside of me—one I’ve carefully maintained my entire life, and now that it’s crumbling, there’s no hope of containing it.
“I miss you too, Mama. I’m doing much better. I’m back teaching, and the kids have been so good for my heart. My friend, Stetson, had her baby last month, and I—” I pause, not sure how she’ll respond to the news that I, an unmarried woman, am now living with a man, in the love nest he built us. I shake my head—I’m done being afraid of the truth. “And I live with Mateo now. He built a house here in Moztecha, and bought the old sale barn, and another building in town, and he’s going to be starting up some businesses here.”
“I’m so happy for you,” she says and there’s so much sincerity in her voice that a sob threatens to rip from my throat.
“How’s everyone there?” I manage to croak out.
“We’re good. Your grandfather passed away a month ago—he was very sick, and excited to join your grandma, so it’s not a sad thing.”
“I’m sorry about your dad,” I offer. I never really knew my grandparents, but they were important to her.
“Yes, well, that’s life,” she says gruffly, but I don’t miss the sniffle that follows. Then she sighs once more. “We’d like to come and see you. Dani, she’s been wanting to return to Texas, and maybe finish school there. Now that my parents have both passed, we’reconsidering it.”
I lick my lips, looking over my shoulder at the dining room wheremy familyall sits gathered, their chattering muffled through the wall. “I’d like that,” I admit. And the truth is, I would. I’ve missed my parents, my sister, and I’m a different person than I was before.
“Well, I’ll let you know when we know more. Nothing’s set in stone.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. Some things will take more time than others, and some things may never change. My mother, showing emotion, might just be one of them.
And as sad as that makes me, it also doesn’t affect me.
“Sounds good. I’ll call you in a couple days, just to see how everything is coming,” I offer.
“I’d like that,” she parrots, and I smile, another tear skittering over my cheek. “Goodbye Adalene.”
