Page 65 of Odin
“I took a few days off,” she whispers, her words faltering. “I figured I might need them to talk you into coming back with me, but I realize now that I need to spend the time thinking carefully about what you said. I never wanted to be a bad mom.”
“I know.”
I can’t remember the last time I saw my mom cry. I know that she probably did, plenty of times, after my dad died, but throughout the whole cancer journey, at the hospital when he passed, and during all the funeral arrangements, she was detached. Spacey. I can see now that she didn’t want that life tobe her reality, but I didn’t understand it as a teenager. I was hurt over her refusal to share her grief with me.
The tear that trickles down her cheek is even more shocking and meaningful given how she’s kept them solely for private moments.
I wipe it away with the pad of my thumb and hug her again. “The day I got married, I said that I’d be okay, and I meant it. I said ‘I’ve got this.’ I did. Through all the bad moments and bad days, I’ve had this. I’d love it if I could say thatwehave this.”
“I don’t know.” Mom blinks like she’s seeing clearly for the first time after years of being in a fog. “You’ve always been so strong. I’m not like you.”
“Mom! You’re exactly like me. You made me. You carried me in your body. You looked after me. You raised me. You’ve always been there. Even if we’re different in many ways, that’s okay. You can be strong too. We have time.”
“Do we?” Another tear traces the same path the first one took, then another and another.
I angle into her so my bump goes past her hip and we can meet at the shoulders. I lock my arms around her and hold her tight. She tucks her face into my shoulder and cries.
I was going to save my tears for later, but they match hers, my own face soaked. I’m crying for all the things I’ve let go of, and for all the unrealized hopes that are so much closer than they were yesterday. I didn’t have to go back to LA to have a homecoming.
“I t-think you s-should s-stay for a little bit,” I stammer against her hair. “I’ll make coffee and you can meet Odin if you want.”
“Oh. I don’t know about that.”
“He’s very nice. It won’t be awkward. Well, maybe for a second, but he has zero mean opinions about anyone. We share the same belief that life is far too short to dwell on any of the badness. Just let it go. Take one breath and one step forward. I know that you’ll really like him and he’ll be thrilled that you’re here. He knows how much I’ve missed you.”
“But I was… I’ve been… I’ve been so awful.”
I pat her back, and hesitantly, she reaches over my shoulder and does the same. We stand there comforting each other, until I take her hand and lead her to the kitchen. I pull out a chair for her and sit her down.
“We’ll find our way back together,” I promise her. “You don’t have to do any of it alone.”
I know there are people out there who would raise a brow at this, or get all goggle eyed, or call my forgiveness too easy, but none of it is easy. I just want to be the same friend that all the people at the club have been for me from the very first second they met me. It was ground zero for them. I was there, I needed friends, and that’s what mattered.
My mom is here. She’s my parent, and I don’t know that we’ve ever been friends. Maybe that’s always what’s been missing. Today is a beautiful morning to start. It’s our ground zero.
Odin
I honestly didn’t think that the relationship between Willow and her mom could ever be properly repaired, but they proved me wrong, and I’m glad for it.
Her mom has done the work. She’s put in the time, going to therapy when she didn’t think it would be a good fit, even reading the self-help books she swore were a waste of time. She wrote her thoughts and feelings out when she couldn’t find a way to express them, but most of the time, she did. Willow opened that line of communication and her mom has respected it, treasured it, and broadened it into a functioning, healthy, loving relationship.
Willow has never felt disrespected in any way. Her worst fear was that her mom was doing this all for her grandchild, and although it wasn’t a terrible reason to change, she was scared that she’d never have the kind of connection with her mom that a daughter should. Her fears were unfounded in that regard. It might have come late, but her mom has learned how to express not just her thoughts, but also her feelings. She’s learned acts of service and love. She started small, but there’s no doubt now how much she loves Willow and our son, Caden.
Fuck, some days I think she might not even mind me, and that’s saying something. I’ll always be older than Willow. I’ll always be the battle scarred, time roughened old biker. There are some facts that no amount of me being kind will ever change.
Like tonight.
Caden is ten months old, and as hard as it is to leave him with his grandma in Hart for a night and a day, I wanted to plan something special for Willow. We never did get any sort ofhoneymoon, and the time since our wedding night has slipped away faster than it ever did.
We’ve both worked hard, taking care of the building plans for the new shop and overseeing it as it came to fruition. I’ve had all my club duties, and she’s fallen into being a biker’s wife. Her mom moved to Hart shortly after Caden was born. I had the crew working on the garage like mad, so that we’d be able to move into our living space above right before Caden was born. The construction cut it close, but we were able to bring our newborn son home to our own place, and what a feeling that was. Because we were no longer staying in Crow’s apartment, we got the okay to have Willow’s mom there. As crazy as it is to imagine her thriving above a tattoo studio, she loves the place.
It hasn’t been easy having a newborn, but we’ve had a pretty decent ride compared to what some parents go through. Willow had a ten-hour labor. I guess it was termed an easy birth, but there’s nothing easy or gentle about the process. It’s painful, and she needed a few months to heal. Thankfully, Caden started sleeping through the night at three months old, which helped tremendously. He’s been a great baby, so happy and content. His huge smiles and happy babbling have won him all the hearts in Hart. Wherever he goes, people adore him.
We haven’t had a chance to take the bike out together all that many times, at least not for extended rides. This is our longest one yet. I worried that Willow might think that an hour back there was too much, but we’re just pulling up to the outskirts of Seattle, and she hasn’t given me any of the hand signals I taught her to let me know if she’s uncomfortable. Her hands are wrapped around my middle, resting on my abs above my leather jacket. She has a similar getup to me- leather jacket, jeans, biker boots. Her helmet has a closed face shield, while Iprefer glasses and an open brain bucket. She’s snugged right up against me, her chest to my back. There’s not an inch of room between our bodies.
I made sure that we left early enough that we’d have time to get to our hotel, park, and change. Willow has always wanted to go to an opera. She never saw one in LA. I wasn’t going to take her looking like a scrub. She would tell me that such a thing isn’t possible and assure me that she’s more than proud to be seen with me at all times, anywhere, but I wanted to dress nice for her tonight, even if nice is just everyone else’s business casual.
We make good time through the city and get to our hotel without an issue. I made sure it had underground parking so the bike would be safe tonight.
