Page 102 of Townshipped
“Mom?”
“Oh, thank goodness! Yes! It’s her, Jack!”
“Mom?”
I know it’s my mom, but this effusive, unglued version of her is one I intuitively know I’ve never seen.
“It’s Mallory!” Mom shouts, obviously to my father. “Hunny, are you there?”
“I’m here, Mom. It’s me.”
“Oh, hunny, are you okay? You went missing and we had no idea until Gabriela called us two days ago. We had the police on your case right away. And then your father hired a PI to expedite the process. Your father was relentless. When we saw you had been found in Bordeaux …”
She pronounces it like the French city, “board-oh.” It sounds foreign and not at all right. I want to tell her we’re Bord-eaux like “bored ox,” but I know in my heart she won’t care or appreciate the fact.
“Oh, Mallory. You have no idea … Ohio of all the places. And you were gone for all this time while we thought you were safely traveling.” She pauses, restoring her composure. “Well, now. I’m sure we have no idea what you endured either. You must have been through your own private hell.”
I look around the kitchen at the refinished wood floors, the white subway tile, the way the light is filtering through the window over the table, the four stools around the island where I’ve shared laughter and food with Aiden, and sat for a few days’ worth of after-school snacks with Paisley.
“It’s actually been fine,” I tell her. “I initially lost all my memory, but it’s coming back more and more.”
I want to tell her all about Aiden and how he cared for me, but I don’t know what to say. Talking about him to my mom feels like a betrayal.
“Well, don’t fret. You are coming home now. We’ll be there tomorrow and we have a return ticket for you. We’ll fly in mid-morning. It was the earliest flight we could get on such a short notice. We’ll drive from Columbus to where you are. And then we can bring you home. Everything will be fine.”
Home.
I take another glance around the kitchen and then I walk toward the back door. From my vantage point, I can see Aiden tossing Ty in the air outside the goat pasture. Ty’s face is lit up with giddy laughter.
“I’m feeling a little wiped out, Mom. This day has been a lot. Can we talk tomorrow, when you come?”
“Of course, dear. You rest. And pack. We’ll be there around noon.”
She continues talking, regaining her composure while she fills me in on the details of their flight and the plans they have for the trip. I only half-listen.
I remember so much about my mom now. She’s not one for displays of emotion. Her initial reaction to hearing my voice may be the most expressive she’s been in my entire lifetime.
While my mom talks about flight times, airports, and rental cars, I sort through a barrage of memories and try to make sense of the warring thoughts assailing my brain. One reality rises over the rest: In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll leave the farm to move back to Boston.
Finally, Mom seems satisfied that she’s filled me in and that I’m safe.
“I love you, Mallory.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
And I do. I know I do. Deep down, beneath the confusion and the upheaval, I love my mom.
The trouble is, I love Aiden too.
* * *
I dropmy dish after lunch, shattering food and ceramic shards everywhere. Later in the afternoon, I bump into a wall while I’m walking from the living room toward the kitchen, giving myself a healthy bruise on my arm. Paisley has to tell me to turn the water off when I’m rinsing dishes from our afternoon snack.
“We’re going out for dinner,” Aiden announces, finally coming out of his office after sequestering himself in there ever since he came inside from checking the goats just before lunch. “Who wants pizza?”
Both kids jump up and down, Paisley stopping herself after a few bounces. Ty shouts, “I want pizza, Uncle Aiden! The cheese one.”
Aiden barely looks my direction. He’s done his job, giving me a place to stay and providing for my healing, and now that I’m going home, he can check all the boxes on his hero timecard and punch out for the rest of my life.
