Page 47 of It Couldn't Be You
Gabriel
plus I like talking to you, even if you’re grilling me on my exes and I’m grilling you on Mr. Perfect
Me
shall I start nicknaming Heather and Lila now?
Gabriel:
wow you remember their names huh?
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned in between dream and wake, unsure of where I was in time. As if I were still the twenty-one-year-old girl torn between risking it all on her dreams and a boy she’d just kissed by moving to Los Angeles or coming home to Sweet River to a sure thing and dating her high school crush.
As if it was as simple as one choice. As if life was just a series of forks in the road instead of a free fall of maybes and never landing where you’d planned.
Iwoke up the next morning restless and tired. I drove to my parent’s house on an empty stomach and in sweatpants. I’d told my mom I would work with her on repainting the living room—for the sixth time.
My mom was an art teacher at our local community center. She’d taught art to children and adults my entire life, at the same time on the same days, for years. Her art spilled all over her life, her world—and my world, too. Her art even spilled all over my childhood home.
Our house was always being changed—the furniture rearranged, the walls painted different colors. She was always finding new treasures to replace décor, always painting murals in our backyard, over our sink, over the fireplace.
Mom was always chasing a vision, but the vision changed daily.
How my mother could always be changing and evolving herself and everything around her yet remain the most consistent and reliable woman in my life, with the same work schedule for over a decade, was the miracle of my mother.
Our home might look completely different, but it was still alwaysmyhome. It was perpetually waiting for me to relax into it whenever I needed it, no matter where I was coming back from.
When I walked inside, there was no paint, no usual decorating project set up. “Hey, where’s the paint?” I asked.
“Oh, I woke up this morning, honey, and I’d changed my mind. I think I like it how it is for now,” my mom said plainly. She was in an old white tank top, I think used to be mine, and a pair of overalls. She was long and tall, like me. Her blonde hair turning silver. “Dad and I thought we would just make a big breakfast and catch up with you.”
“That sounds perfect, actually.” I sighed contentedly.
I could smell the bacon in the oven and hear the sizzle of eggs cooking in the frying pan. I walked into the kitchen and began to set the table for the three of us.
Dad walked into the room moments later, his reading glasses still resting low on his nose. “Good morning,” he said.
“What were you reading, Dad?” I asked.
“Oh, I’ve been caught up in this little mystery series set in Edinburgh, I recently discovered. I think you’d like it. Remind me to lend you the first book in the series.”
I wondered if you put together a creative artist, like my mother, and a nerdy bookworm like my father, you couldn’t help but wind up with a daughter who wrote.
We were sitting around the dining room table eating our breakfast while mom told us some recent stories from her classroom, and my dad talked about slowing down at the office, potentially bringing in a new doctor to take on more of the heavy load of patients.
I curled my legs up under me as I finished my last bite of food. I chewed thoughtfully, realizing I had no new or interesting news to share except that I was getting fairly skilled at latte art now.
“How are things on the job front?” my father asked. I told him I was applying, searching and recently asked Gabriel for a few contacts that might be interested in some freelance work. I was trying; I was hopeful.
Then, I asked, “How did you know that you wanted to settle down here, in Sweet River? How did you know this was right?”
A lot of people in this small town had aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, and kin. Deep roots that kept them in this city. But my family was just us three. My kin spread out across this whole country. I even had a cousin in London. What kept us here?
“Well, you know we went to school in Austin,” my dad said. “We met there originally, as we’ve told you. But after I worked in Dallas for a while building up my career, it felt like the right time to open my own practice, and we just…” He sighed thoughtfully. “Landed here.”
“You never had a dream of seeing other places? Of moving around?” I wondered if this longing in me could’ve been passed down to me from my dad like my blue eyes.
“Well, honey, you know we found out we were pregnant with you. A sweet little surprise. It helped us realize we wanted to find our own spot to watch you grow,” Mom chimed in, coming up behind me and rubbing my shoulder.
