Page 80 of Uproot

She pulls away and I use my thumbs to wipe her tears away. "I love you. I don’t want to be anywhere that you aren't. Not ever again,” I promise, meaning every word with my entire soul.

“I love you too, Beck. And I don’t ever want to be away from you either,” she agrees, smiling and wiping her cheeks.

I hug her again and signal our waiter for the check, ready to get her back home.

She is smiling and happy during our drive, and it makes me full of pride knowing I have helped her feel that way. I feel settled having her approval of my plans, but I know there is still one more step that I need to take before we can start our future.

And it’s not one I’m truly looking forward to.

42

Beckett

Ipull my car around the circular driveway, staring up at a house I wasn’t sure that I ever wanted to return to.

The last time I left Selah’s mother’s home it wasn’t on the best of terms, to say the least. But after I told Selah last night about my plans to move to Upwood permanently, we also spoke to Edison about our plan once we got home. I knew after all of this what my next step needed to be.

I wasn’t sure how happy Bianca would be to hear from me when I got her phone number from Selah’s contacts list and called her. Thankfully, she wasn’t nearly as hostile as I thought she might be when I called, and she agreed to meet with me today at her home.

Selah is starting to do some prep work at school for the new school year, and Edison is in his last week of summer camp, so this was the perfect opportunity to take off on my own to Charlestown.

I get out of the car and take out the flowers I got from Mary’s shop, and a small, wrapped package from the back seat, before heading to the front door. I ring the bell and hear the familiarbarking of the tiny dogs on the other side before the door pulls open.

Bianca gives me an uncertain smile, her posture a bit tense, “Hello Beckett, come on in,” she offers, stepping aside.

Her dogs dance around my feet as I come inside and hand her the bouquet of assorted flowers, and package. “Hello Ms. Garrett. These are for you. Thank you for having me over,” I say.

She takes everything from me, smiling more genuinely now, “How thoughtful of you. Let’s go to the kitchen,” she says.

I follow behind her, trying to ignore the pictures in the hallway as we pass by. I need to keep my cool this time and remember the purpose of why I am here today.

She sets her flowers and package down on the counter and moves over to the cabinets. “Would you like some espresso, or tea?” she offers.

“Espresso would be wonderful. Thank you,” I respond, sitting down on a chair at the island.

She sets to work getting our drinks and I look from the kitchen into the open living room, glad to see that Carey must not be home today, probably out at one of his dealerships.

She hands me a demitasse cup filled with espresso and takes the seat next to me in her own chair, waiting for me to speak.

I take a sip of my espresso, gathering my thoughts and trying to make sure I articulate myself without animosity in my voice. “I know when we first met each other I was a bit harsh with my comments,” I begin. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean any disrespect to you, or your husband. It’s just that when it comes to Selah I am very protective, and I don’t think you truly understand how much your words impact her.”

She glances away from me to the teacup in front of her, “I know that sometimes I can be a bit of a nag when it comes to her weight, or her job. I just really want what is best for her,” she sighs.

I shake my head, “What isbestfor her, is to support her, be loving, and accept her for who she is. She doesn’t feel any of that from you. And it affects her mentally more than I think you understand. She is such a beautiful, intelligent woman. I don’t know what more you can ask of her to make you satisfied, or give her the love she wants from you.”

Tears form in her eyes and she nods solemnly, “I guess critiquing is all I really know as a mother. It’s what I grew up with,” she explains, sniffling quietly.

I get up and go over to the counter, retrieving some tissues and bringing them back over to her. She mumbles a “thank you” and blows her nose. I wait patiently for her to continue.

“I was never skinny enough, or pretty enough for my mother. When I met Selah’s father, my mother told me I was making a mistake, because she had always taught me to marry for money so that I’d have financial security. I guess I passed all of the negativity I grew up with on to Selah. It wasn’t always just her either. I can be a bit naggy to my stepchildren as well honestly. I never considered how much my words hurt until our dinner the other night,” she admits.

I nod in understanding, knowing too well how easy it is to continue the bad habits we learn from our families when we are young. I watched Charlie continue the pill addiction that he watched his mother battle with on and off until she left him behind, passing down her lack of affection towards him onto Edison in turn.

It’s hard to break the generational behaviors and habits that get ingrained into us when we’re young. But someone has to be the one to make the changes, and I know that Selah is going to be the woman from her lineage that won’t treat her children with the same judgement that she was given.

“I think it’s important that you tell Selah all of this. It will be a big weight lifted off of her shoulders, and it could really change the dynamic between the two of you. But you have to make the effort to speak to her more respectfully, and get to know her for who she is. I can’t stand to see her hurting.”

I don’t get into all of the ways she’s damaged Selah’s self-esteem, and how her words have affected the way she eats, and views herself. I think that will be Selah’s story to tell when she’s ready.

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