Page 62 of Lovesick
The same quiet and calm that eventually drove them apart, no doubt. Even I remembered that Dad had peeled farther and farther away from home life. A dozen memories swamped me. Their fights when I was in high school. Mom screaming. Dad ignoring her. The silence after.
Maybe Mark and I had been running away from home all those years.
“Was it romantic?” I asked.
“Romantic?”
“When you met.”
“Incredibly. At the beginning, anyway. He stood up to some bullies for me. Cared for me. Bought me things. There was nothing we didn’t do together. At the time, I was young and impressionable and thought that romance meant he was everything. And he was.”
I studied her. The last year had aged her, leaving new lines near her eyes and on her forehead. Though she was noticeably brighter now that she wasn’t living in the oppressive shadow of Dad’s silence, she seemed like a different person. Lost. Wandering. Uncertain, though happy.
Was this the first time in my life I’d actually felt like Mom and I understood each other?
She’d always been closer to Mark. They had the same restless energy. The same burning desire to achieve, to be the center of attention. Only she had calmed over the years.
I took a page from Dad, the quiet brooder. Held my thoughts in until I couldn’t. A flash of confusion—maybe regret—whispered through me. This felt like an ambush, only I was the one doing it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not angry with you, Mom. I’m confused. Trying to sort things out.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You shouldn’t be sorry. It’s time Dad and I face the legacy of the choices we made. I didn’t relish the divorce, but I should have done it years ago instead of putting all of you through this. Maybe it would have been easier. Although,” she added in a soft voice, “I don’t think this kind of thing is ever easy.”
“You’re doing great, Mom.”
I reached over, pulled her into a warm hug, and rubbed her back as she cried.
* * *
JJ:Sorry if this wakes you up, but I wanted to let you know that I actually read some of those books that you saw in the kitchen tonight and am working through the rest.
Lizbeth:I’m not sure how to read that.
JJ:Factual.
Lizbeth:This is horrible over text because I can’t see your body language.
JJ:You’re always welcome inside.
Lizbeth:It’s 11:00 at night! Too cold. Just tell it to me straight. Did you love the romance books or hate them?
JJ: I didn’t hate them.
Lizbeth:Do you secretly love them but you don’t know how to tell me without breaking your tough-guy exterior?
JJ:Not that. My tough-guy exterior is built on actual strength.
Lizbeth:Then what?
JJ:It was pretty much all unrealistic.
Lizbeth:And?
JJ:And I get the appeal. It’s the same thing that drives people to binge Netflix or whatever. Or sends me climbing rocks. But that still doesn’t make romantic love real.
Lizbeth:Romantic love is more than that. It isn’t just an escape.
JJ:Then what is it?
