Page 24 of Just Forever

“Thank you.”

My mom and I have always been close, so the lengthy silence that stretches between us is new and unwelcome.

Eventually she sighs. “You know I support you no matter what, right?”

“Yesterday wasn’t very supportive.”

“I know, and I apologize for that. I concentrated on the wrong thing and didn’t say what really mattered.”

I mull the words over for a bit. “Which is?”

“That I love you. That I’m happy for you. That I’m happy you’re happy. That Lake is a wonderful boy.”

I lift my chin. “He is.”

“I know he is, darling,” she says.

“Then what’s the problem?”

She spends a long time looking for words.

“I’m your mother,” she finally says.

“I’m aware.”

She ignores the sarcastic tone.

“Which means I worry,” she says. “I can’t help it. It comes with the territory when you’re a parent.”

I don’t say anything to that, I just wait.

“You’re my kid. I know you’re a grown-ass adult, too. I know. But you’ll always be my kid first and foremost, and whenever I even think about somebody causing you any harm or distress it makes me incredibly angry.”

“Okay?” I say slowly.

“I’m a planner. You know that. So, it also makes me try and figure out ways to prevent that outcome. I have a lot of scenarios in my head, ranging from probable to unlikely to ludicrous, and I’m trying to devise damage control strategies for each one before I even know if it’s going to happen.”

“This is not business. It’s my life.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Are you sure? Because all this talk about damage control starts to make me feel like I’m a project.”

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that.”

“Okay.”

She takes a sip of her coffee and makes a face.

“Cold.” She pushes the cup away.

We’re silent again. I’m not sure what to say.

Mom sighs. “Professional sport isn’t always accepting.”

“I know that.”

She pulls the cup back in front of her and starts to toy with the handle. “Are you two going to go public with your relationship?”

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