Page 11 of Beckon

“I was thinking about the pasqetti you’re cooking and how good it will be in my belly.”

Her mom waltzed into the kitchen like a queen and lifted the lid of the sauce. “If we could bottle that boy’s enthusiasm for pasta, we could sell it and make a mint. What do you say, Tami, should we hug it out of him or tickle it out? I’ll grab a jar; you grab the moneymaker.”

Chester squealed with delight and hopped off the barstool, running to hide. In the coat closet no doubt, that was his number one go-to place to hide.

Tami and her mom let Chester hide while they served up an early dinner. “I’ll go get Chester to clean up, why don’t you sit down, Mom, you look tired.”

Her faux gasp of horror made Tami smile. “Why not just cut my heart out and carve it up next to the garlic bread?”

“Dramatic much, Mom?” It worried her, so she turned and stared at her mother. “Why do you look tired? Are you sick? Would you tell me if you were? Oh my god, are you dying?”

Tami started a spiral. It didn’t happen often anymore, but the thought of losing her mother was unbearable.

“Tamitha, child. Snap out of it, sit down.” Her mother led her to a chair and ordered her to drink water. “Chester,” her mother yelled down the hall. “Come on out of the closet and wash up before I eat all the pasqetti.” There was a muffled, but audible,noooodrifting in from the direction of the closet.

“Tamitha.” Her mother sat and turned her chair toward her. “I was really hoping not to have to tell you this just yet. I wanted time.”

“Oh my god, you are dying.” Tami’s heart was being ripped in two. She slapped her hand over her mouth to quieten her wail of loss and pain before she upset Chester.

“Oh god, no, child. Nothing like that. I am as healthy as a horse. I’m not sick. Not even a sniffle.”

“What is it then? What do you not want to tell me? Chester? Is Chester okay, is—”

“Hush. Everyone is fine. Chester, me, you. We are all perfect in every way.”

“Mom. I am not a child or some delicate flower who can’t handle life. Please, just tell me and stop treating me like that lost little girl who was different or the devastated widow. I am stronger now than I’ve ever been.”

The look of pride and love in her mother’s eyes was everything. It spoke volumes. Her mother was finally seeing her as a strong woman. The gentle touch on her cheek had tears spilling over the fingers that gently rested there. Good tears, healing tears.

Therapeutic tears.

“I know, baby girl, I see it. Every single day I see it. You have grown into a more amazing person than I could ever imagine gracing this rotten planet we live on.”

Those words settled in her very soul.

“That’s why my life is so full. That it’s bursting at the seams. You gave me that, Tamitha Beth. You. You have filled my life with love in more ways than you could imagine. You are the sunshine in my heart, you’ve given me a grandson who is the moon of my soul, and you’ve taught me how to accept unexpected things, both good and bad. And because of you, I’ve found a man who has brought the stars back to my life.”

Tami just stared at her mom, dumbfounded. “How? When? Why didn’t you tell me, especially the other night when we were talking?”

“Calm down, baby girl. So many questions. I met him a while back at a senior art mixer. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t serious. Then when it was, I… I don’t really know why. Maybe because I didn’t want you to think I was replacing your dad or that by me moving on with my life, I was leaving you two behind.”

“Art mixer?” Tami mumbled.

“Okay, fine, it wasn’t an art mixer. Where do you think we live, baby girl? It was more painting and drinking with other senior singles.”

“I remember that night. You called me for a ride because you had three merlots and painted a barn with overgrown grass and dandelions blowing in the wind. It was the first painting you’d done since Dad died.”

Her mother gave her a sad but hopeful smile.

“It was the night you started painting again. How did I not notice? I’m a sorry excuse for a daughter.”

“You aren’t mad I didn’t mention Harold sooner?”

“I guess that depends. Did you not tell me because you were afraid it would set me back?”

Her mother’s answer was immediate and firm. “No. Not at all. I think it was more I was afraid to say anything or even consider it to myself because I was scared for me, for my heart.”

“Then, no, Mom.” She covered her mother’s hand at her cheek with her own. “I’m not mad at all. We protect our hearts and by doing so, we protect those we love from watching our pain. I do admit, I’m a little sad I missed seeing a new relationship grow through your eyes.”

---