Page 24 of The Things That Hold Us

I take my coffee from her finally, and then get back to painting.

I also don't reply.

Chapter Five

conversationalist

My birthday party is in two days, so today has just been helping Cass pick everything up and take it to her now freshly painted apartment.

It's 4:30 p.m. now, and I’m at the airport picking my mom up. To say I’m excited is an understatement. I miss my mom so much. I don't know if that's normal. I know most kids end up despising their parents, but not me. My mom is my best friend, and living far away from her has been tough.

I’ve thought about moving closer, but I love it here. My mom has made a home for herself by the beach, and although she says she loves it, I just know she’d love it here more.

I’m standing in the airport holding a big ass sign that says ‘MOM’ on it, with a picture of her and me. It's extremely cheesy, but it’s perfect.

I hold the sign up as I see people start unloading down the escalator, and search all the heads until I see her.

She beams as soon as she sees me, and starts yelling, “Charlie! Oh my god, look at you!”

I take in my mom as she makes her way to me. Her hair is still as long and wild as I remember and as silver as the north star. Her face, obviously, has aged some. But she's still my beautiful mom.

She pulls me in for a tight hug, and I can barely breathe.

“Mom stop, I haven't changed that much.” I shrug off her comment, like it doesn't make me feel good about myself.

“Your hair is so long! Look at this.” She grabs my hair in her hand. “It’s touching your ass!”

“I haven't cut it in years, so I’m not surprised.” I laugh. “Come on, the cab is waiting outside.”

I grab her bags for her, and I’m not at all surprised at how heavy they are.

“Jesus mom, did you pack for an entire month?”

She smiles, and throws her arm around me. “You can never be too prepared.” she lets me go, and grabs my hand, “I’m starving. Let's go to dinner. My treat.”

“So tell me, what's new in your life? How's the shop?” she asks before taking a bite of her steak tacos.

“The shop is really good actually. I’ve had a few people bring in some good things over the past few weeks.”

She nods her head while chewing, “Does that clown guy still come in? What was his name again?”

“Mr Reeves.” I answer with a mouth full of corn salsa.

“Yes him, I love hearing about him and his clowns.”

“He’s a character. What about you? What's new with you?” I ask.

She takes a sip of her margarita, then says, “Oh you know me. Nothing new on my end. I joined a crochet club. It's not big, just a few local girls. We get together on Fridays at one of our houses and make blankets and whatever else. It's very therapeutic.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, and my mom instantly looks appalled.

She holds up a finger, “Speaking of,” she leans down and grabs one of her bags, opening it.

She hands me a large bag that's wrapped poorly, and I don't know how she fit it in there.

“What is this?” I ask her while smiling.

“Oh just open it.” she laughs.

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