Page 138 of Unexpected Forever
About the time the waterworks stopped, I came to a realization.
I need to talk to my mom about my dad.
My fear of losing someone I love managed to run off a man that, while not perfect, was perfect for me.
The thought that I’m stuck in a cycle of loving and losing men in my life makes me sad not only for me, but for my child. I’d never want to pass down my fucked-up thinking to my baby.
Nate’s words come back to me.
You must go with what your gut tells you.
My gut is telling me that Mom has answers. To what, I’m still figuring that out.
I blow out a breath, willing the anxiety to ease up, and walk inside. “Mom?”
She comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel as she strides toward me. Her beautiful face breaks into a smile, and the warmth in the curve of her lips settles me.
“Charley, this is a happy surprise.”
We hug and she pulls back, studying me with one raised brow. “That’s a serious look on your face, Charley.”
My eyes fill with tears, and my mom, being who she is, doesn’t prod, just puts her arm around my shoulders and guides me to the kitchen.
“I put water on for tea. Want some?”
“Yeah, that sounds nice.”
And it was.
Sitting at the island of my mom’s sunny kitchen, watching her make tea and plate my favorite butter cookies, gives me the feeling of being wrapped in a cozy blanket.
She brings the mugs over, sitting next to me, and slides one to me. “So, what’s going on, baby?”
The tone in her voice tells me she knows I’m not here for a casual visit.
I sip my tea and run a fingertip around the rim. She stays quiet, waiting me out. That patience she has, I can only pray I grow into for the sake of my child.
When my courage finally takes hold, the words spill from my lips. “I feel like I’m forgetting Dad. I remember snatches of time with him, but as the days go on…”
With a pause, I swallow the ball of emotions in my throat, tears slipping down my cheeks. My voice is wobbly. “I feel like I lose a little more of him every day. I can’t remember his voice like I used to. And at this point, I don’t know if what I remember of how he looked is my memory or the pictures I’ve seen.”
Mom lays a hand on mine but stays quiet as the tears come faster.
“I hate that he’s not here to share life with you. I hate that he won’t be here to see his first grandchild and kiss their boo-boos better. I hate he missed out on most of my childhood. All of the father-daughter dances we didn’t get to attend. I hate he won’t be the one walking me down the aisle someday.”
I meet her eyes. “And I hate that I can’t let myself fully be with a man I love because I’m afraid I’ll get my heart broken again. I’m not sure I can handle that again.”
My hand fists the fabric over my heart, and her image becomes clouded with tears. “It hurts, Mom.”
The words are a strangled whisper as I break down in sobs.
Weight like a lead ball sits on my chest, while simultaneously there’s a tearing in my soul that leaves me desperate and aching.
Mom wraps me in her arms and we cling to each other, crying over the what-ifs and could have beens. Things we wished for, dreamed for, but will never have the way we want them.
Tangible, physical, whole.
Alive.
