Page 58 of Winter Break Up

“Well, we’re not anymore. Not keeping it a secret, that is. We’re not spending time together.”

“Because you ended things again. Ah, my girl, did you not learn the first time?” Mom comes around and rubs a hand up and down my back.

“How do you know he didn’t break things off with me?” I groan.

“Because that boy has always looked at you like you hung the moon, and you’ve been downright miserable even though Christmas is your favorite holiday. That’s a ‘I feel guilty for breaking Mercer’s heart’ miserable, just to be clear.”

“Gee, thanks for the support, Ma.”

She gives me a side hug, and I finally pick my head up. “I didn’t say I thought it wasn’t the right decision. I’m your mother, but you’re an adult now. I don’t get to judge your choices, but I can tell you when you look upset and hurt. And you look that way right now.”

“Did you think it was a mistake the first time I broke up with him? Back in high school?” I’ve never actually asked her that.

Mom was there for the fallout, for me not being able to stop crying the month before I left for freshman year of college. She made sure I was fed, saw sunlight every once in a while, and that Charlie didn’t rag on me too much for breaking his best friend’s heart. But she never once told me I was an idiot or that she approved. One way or another, I never knew what she thought about it.

My mother sighs, and her expression is a war of whether or not she should answer. “I thought you two were very young. I could recognize that your love was real, but it’s never a guarantee that kind of high school relationship can withstand all that college and life brings. I honestly don’t know that you two would have, but I bet you would have made it work. Am I happy you had the freedom to grow and mature on your own separate journeys? Absolutely. Am I sad that you two have seemed to have broken pieces of your heart floating around ever since? Again, absolutely. When I look at you and Mercer, I just …”

Mom chews on her lip.

“What?”

“You’ve always struck me as two sides of the same coin. You get each other, and you balance one another out. And the way he looks at you, cares for you? I couldn’t ask for much better treatment of my daughter.” She shrugs. “But again, it doesn’t matter what I think. It matters how you feel and what you can handle. You always have been the kind of daughter who tries to make everything perfect. Whether it was your grades, or the bow on a present, or your relationships with others, or making it so your dad and I could have a few minutes of peaceful alone time.

“Emily, you’ve always been the kind of person who is sacrificing yourself for others. Look at the profession you chose; nursing is a selfless act where you put others’ care and wellbeing above your own on many occasions. But that also means you’re used to shelving any emotion or desire that brings you happiness. It’s hard for you to see when something is so right for you because you’re also a cautious and skeptical person. With everything you’ve been through this year, I don’t blame you for running at the first chance of touching your hand to the stove. A relationship with Mercer is a risk because it’s such a high reward. You love him, so much that I can read how miserable you are all over your face. But you’re terrified. Whatever you choose, know that I’m always here for you.”

There is nothing else I can do but move into my mother’s arms and let her hug me. She holds me like I’m seven and just skinned my knee, all the love and comfort I seek in bad moments seeping into my skin. When all else fails, a good hug from your mom feels like the best medicine.

But I can admit, she just hit me in the head with a metaphorical two-by-four. I need time to pick apart all that she said to me and decide what I want to feel about it and do next. Of course, she’s right on almost all of it, and like she said, only I can choose what happens from here.

With how miserable I’ve been feeling, I can’t sit and wait for too much longer. Still, that ever-present fear of the unknown rattles in my bones.

Underneath it, though, is a little shimmer of hope that I’m unconsciously leaning for even if it backfires on me.

26

MERCER

“Pass me the syrup, would ya?”

Grandpa’s voice is gruff with sleep even at ten a.m., but I do as he asks.

“Your waffles are already drowning,” I note as he takes the bottle from my hand.

“I’m three quarters the way to the grave, I don’t think a lake of syrup is going to do any more damage than the rest of the shit I’ve experimented with in this life.” He pours more of the sweet liquid onto his breakfast.

I shrug. “I guess you’re not wrong. But you might try some eggs one of these mornings.”

My fork digs into the fluffy pile of yellow protein I whipped up with our feast. Grandpa covers all the gluttonous items: waffles with chocolate chips, bacon, hash browns, and a vat of eggnog whipped coffee. I contributed the fruit salad and scrambled eggs, so neither of us goes into sugar shock or possible cardiac arrest.

“Thanks again for the plane ticket. I can’t wait to come down for graduation.” Grandpa gives me the biggest smile he’s capable of, which is just a twitch of his lips.

This morning, all of twenty minutes ago, because we are two grown men who don’t bounce out of bed at six a.m. on Christmas, Grandpa and I sat in front of the Christmas tree. I pooled all the money I made over the last couple of years working odd jobs and got him a first-class, round-trip ticket to Miami for my graduation. It might be a hard travel day or two for him, considering the shape he’s in, but before he can’t do it anymore, I want him to be able to see where his hard work raising me has gotten me.

Plus, he’ll never say it, but I know Grandpa is immensely proud that I am the first in our family to graduate from college. He never had the opportunity, and it isn’t like my parents had bothered with their educations. Staying at my university as long as I did, rather than going to play soccer overseas or something, partly had to do with fulfilling his dream that I get a degree.

“And thank you for the sweater. It’s so freaking awesome.” I grin because his present is top-tier.

Grandpa had gone to the local library and asked one of the high school interns to help him shop for my gift online. The student helped him order a vintage football sweater from my favorite European team and shipped it to our house for Grandpa. It’s incredible, a piece of history, and it is all I could want as an adult who didn’t even want his grandpa to buy him a gift.

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