Page 53 of Hate To Love You

“Yup, I do have a skunk as a pet,” Apollo says.

“And you live in a mushroom,” Will adds.

“We do live in a mushroom.” I don’t miss the word ‘we.’ He’s including me. This man, who is still so down to earth and grounded no matter how much money he has. This man, who was willing to fight for me. “We have a great pool outside. Would you like me to show it to you? We could have lunch right after.”

Will looks at my mom, and they share one of those silent, meaning-packed looks that couples who know each other well can communicate with.

“That would be great,” Will says.

It takes me only a few seconds of watching Apollo’s broad back retreating to the patio door with Will in tow to miss his warmth and heat and the certainty I feel when I’m around him. I step back from my mom, suddenly feeling awkward and not so confident.

I’m extra nervous now, and I’m sure it shows, but my mom ignores it. She takes my hand, which makes my heart leap around in my chest like a frog going mad in there, and leads me to the couch.

“I really do love that you live in a mushroom,” she tells me. “I remember Apollo. He was a sweet boy—one of the sweetest. I’m so happy you stayed friends all these years, and now you’re together. That’s an amazing story. The best love story.”

No matter how painful it is or how much it sucks, I have to correct her. I want her to know the truth, so I tell her everything, starting with when she left. I don’t hold back on my feelings, but I do let her know that I realize it wasn’t her fault. I watch as her face goes white and then florid and flushed, and then as tears start streaming down her cheeks. My eyes aren’t dry, either. I don’t think there’s a dry spot on my face at all. I tell her everything about Dad’s feud, the poker game, Apollo saving me, how mad I was at him for being just another person who left, and how I didn’t want to forgive him even when he was the one who came back and offered me everything. I didn’t want to forgive him until I almost lost him, and how horrible that was on my part when it took something like that to get me to open my eyes. I talk way too long, and I briefly wonder what Apollo and Will are finding to do in the backyard. Bitty Kitty must have followed them out because she’s not in here. Maybe they’re hunting bugs with her. She loves that.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Mom says, stroking a strand of my hair back behind my ear when I’m done. My face is dry and crusty from all the tears, and it literally feels like my skin could crack from that salt bath.

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about,” I reassure her.

“I’m sorry you were hurt. I knew you would have been. That’s why I tried so desperately to reach you. I’m sorry I was the one who left,” Mom says softly.

“You shouldn’t have to stay in a marriage you were unhappy in.”

“Your dad and I…” She sighs, and it’s such a painful sound. “We were in love at one point, but we tried to break up before we got married. I tried to tell him I wasn’t in love with him anymore, but he cried and spent all night convincing me to give us another chance. I thought maybe things could work and that maybe it was just me who needed to work on myself. I don’t know. For a while, it did. And I thought I was happy. But then we got married, and I just felt…trapped. You were a surprise, honey, and you were the very best surprise. You were always the best part of my life, and I tried so hard after you were born. I tried and tried to make it work because I wanted to be a family. I wanted you to have a mom and dad who were together, but I just couldn’t do it. I was selfish, but—”

“You’re not selfish for having to leave to make sure you’re okay. Your mental health is important too. I can’t imagine being in a relationship for years and years and the guilt that leaving would cause but also suffocating to death, going insane, and being so desperately unhappy and unfilled on the inside.” Actually, I can imagine.

They were entirely different circumstances, but what I was doing back home, working for my dad, staying for my dad, not going to college, and not having dreams of my own…it wasn’t living. That was being scared to live. I felt guilty, too, thinking about him all alone. I wasn’t brave enough to leave until that poker game took me away.

“Your dad is an interesting man,” Mom says. She sounds like she means it too. She’s not the slightest bit bitter, that I can tell. She just looks so happy to be sitting across from me. Like she’s looking at her own personal unicorn the same way I’m looking at mine. I love that we can sit here and unicorn out together. “I wasn’t entirely surprised that he did what he did. But it’s a small area, and everyone knows everyone. I tried to reach out and get messages to you, but John refused, and the few other people I asked refused too, and that was it. I didn’t know anyone well enough to ask. Whatever your dad told them about what happened with us was enough to make them change their minds about helping me contact you.”

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she says soothingly.

“I’m sorry that for years, we’ve both felt this hurt. I’m sorry Dad made those choices. I’m trying to forgive him for that and for other things, but it’s going to be a long road.”

Mom sets her hand on my shoulder, and her chin wobbles again. She blinks hard. Her eyes are lighter than mine, and they’re already red-rimmed from all the crying earlier. “I’m so glad you’re choosing forgiveness because bitterness is a terrible thing to carry around with you.”

Yes, I carried it around for too many years.

I don’t want to sit here and cry all day, so I stand up instead. “I’d like to show you my room. It’s a theme room, and it’s super cool. Plus, I make dolls. Creepy dolls. I think you’ll like them.”

And she does. She loves them. Upstairs, she holds one up and turns it around, studying it from every angle. “This is great. They all are. I would love to take one back to New York with me if that’s okay. I have a whole bunch of clients who I think would be happy to purchase your dolls. If you want to sell it, that is. I could just use it as a demo model. They could place orders if you do custom work, or they could place an order for whatever you’re willing to make.”

I’m holding another doll right now, and I stroke her lovely, horrifically horrifying hair. “I don’t know. I’m not sure these are good enough to sell.”

“They’re more than good enough. There’s such a good market for unique things.”

The first conversation we had on the phone—where Mom told me where she was living and asked me how I was doing and where I was, and we both bawled—she told me she was a photographer. That’s what she does in New York. I haven’t even asked her about Will yet.

I set the doll down. “How did you and Will meet?”

She suddenly blushes, and she looks so young and pretty. I could look at her all day. I’m probably crap with a camera, but I’d really like to take her picture. More for the album that I’ll never give up. It’s sitting packed away in one of the boxes of things Apollo had shipped out here from Dad’s house. My mom is one of those older women who is always going to be stunning, no matter what age they are.

“After I left, I made my way here and there and ended up in New York. I was taking evening classes for business because I wanted to finish my degree since I’d need something to get a good job to live off. I should have gone somewhere cheaper, but having a lot of roommates is okay too. It was never lonely, and goodness knows I needed the company.”

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