Page 148 of Holly Jolly July

“Congratulations, kiddo,” Dad says.

“How did this come about?”

Our food is delivered, and we all eat while I go over the details. I show Mom the video that started it all, trying not to cringe at how sexy it is. Sharing something so personal with my parents feels far more intimate than sharing it with five million strangers.

“That’s amazing! So... when do you leave?” Mom fails to mask the sadness in her voice.

“In about a week, just as long as I need to get everything packed up.”

“Well, that’s exciting. Dad and I can come down and visit you there, I guess. Nothing wrong with a bit of sunshine!”

I can tell she’s trying to be optimistic. I have no idea why she’s disappointed; it’s not like we see each other often anyway.And I highly doubt they’d ever come down to California to see me, but I let her have her empty promise.

“Do you have a place rented?” Dad asks between bites of his chicken souvlaki, always the pragmatic one.

I chew and swallow my bite of flatbread. “No, not yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“We could help,” Dad offers. “We can give you some start-up cash.”

I’m taken aback by their offer and consider it a moment before shaking my head. “No, I don’t need help. I can do it on my own. Won’t be the first time.”

Mom winces.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” I reach toward her, touching her wrist.

She frowns, shakes her head. “No, you’re right. You were left on your own to figure out a lot of things.”

“It’s okay, I—”

“No, it’s not okay. Mariah,” Mom interrupts. Dad gives Mom a quick pat on the back. They share a wordless acknowledgement, communicating silently while I shift in my seat, incredibly uncomfortable. Dad gives her a nod, and Mom exhales a slow breath before turning back to me.

Mom twists her napkin in her hands as she talks. “I have an apology to make. I never understood you. And I never really tried. You were so much like my sister, and we didn’t get along. She didn’t fit in with the family. The older you got, the more similar you two seemed. And you know how she struggled—her mental health was always up and down. Couldn’t keep a job. Drug use. She’d even been arrested once. I didn’t want that for you. And when we lost her...” Her bottom lip trembles, but she regains her composure. “When we lost her, I was so scared the same would happen to you. I doubled down on being hard on you, on trying to force you to be more like me and less like her. For a time, I thought it was working. You seemed happy,well-adjusted. And then everything changed, and I thought if I was harder on you, it would keep you home, keep you safe, stop you from going down the same path as my sister... but all I did was push you away. It was all I knew how to do. And then one day, in church there was a sermon about loving our neighbours being one of Jesus’s top commandments, and how that should be our focus above all else.”

My brain wants to turn off at any mention of religiosity. I may not be a believer, but Mom is and it’s important to her, so I try to pay attention as she continues.

“Jesus’s best friends were the castaways of society. He didn’t push them away. He brought them in. He showed them love, and kindness, and acceptance. That’s what my sister didn’t receive. That’s why she did the things she did, because she had no one else to turn to when things grew dark for her. And I blame myself so much for that. I should have been there for her.”

My heart aches for my mom, slowly coming to see everything from her perspective. Realization dawns on me that my aunt’s death had impacted us both so heavily, in completely different ways.

Mom continues. “I’ve been trying to get you back, to bring you in, to show you love and accept you, but I can’t do that unless you let me. I know you have a lot to forgive me for, but I hope that in time you can, so we can move forward and be part of each other’s lives. Even if you’re a thousand miles away. But I am truly, deeply sorry for not seeing you as you are and loving you, instead trying to change you into someone I thought you should be.”

My eyes mist, and all I can do is nod. Mom gets up from her seat and joins me on my side of the booth, giving me a big hug. She sniffles quietly in my ear, her body hot and sweaty from the stress of her confession.

“I forgive you,” I whisper in her ear, and her sniffle turns into a sob.

“Thank you,” she whispers back.

We pull away after a moment, both of us wiping our eyes. Dad smiles at us across the table, his own eyes shiny.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving now, when I feel like we’ve just found one another,” Mom states, shoulders slumping. “I’ve lost so much time with you. But I couldn’t waste another second of my life not loving you for who you are. Because who you are is pretty great.”

I glow from her acceptance and praise, not knowing how badly I’d wanted it until now. “Thank you. And I can see why you did what you did, why you were so scared. It’s sad we’re only now realizing all of this, right when I’m leaving.”

“California isn’t that far away, and we have a lot of points to use for flights.” Mom looks to Dad, who nods in agreement. “Besides, if something is important to you, you find a way to make it work.”

I nod, acknowledging what she said while turning her words over in my mind—how they relate to a certain someone else for me, too. “Dad, your offer about helping me... does it still stand?”

“Of course,” he says, eagerly sitting up taller.

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