Page 35 of Catching Kyle
“Then come on in,” she says. “I’ve got some leftover stew.”
* **
By the time I settle on her couch, clouds are already beginning to cover the sky, and they’re darkening. A storm is on the way. My ma’s hairless cat, Miss Beautiful, prances over to the couch when she sees me. She leaps onto my lap, purring all the way, and I have to set down my stew before she snags a piece of beef. She runs her head into my chin.
“Now tell me what’s going on,” Ma says as she sits down. She picks up her hook and begins crocheting.
I sigh. I can’t just tell her about Michael. I have to say what I’m saying to everyone else.
“There’s this girl,” I say. Miss Beautiful has nestled in between my legs.
“Okay,” she says, nodding. She’s looking at me and robotically working her needles. Impressive, I must say.
“She’s a writer, and—” I don’t know how to explain all the details while telling all these lies. “Ugh, ma, I just made her mad. I said things, and I made her mad when I was only trying to help.”
She nods, this time looking down at what she’s doing. I think she’s making some sort of hat. Outside, there’s thunder, startling Miss Beautiful. I stroke her to calm her down. She settles again.
“Are you being fully honest with this girl?” She asks.
I get that heartburn again. I would say it’s from the stew, but my ma’s cooking is impeccable. I think it’s from something else.
“I’m tryna be,” I say honestly.
“You and I know that trying and doing are two different things in this case,” she says. “Are you being honest or not?”
I rub the bridge of my nose as rain begins to fall hard outside. But I’m warm and cozy in here. I got Miss Beautiful purring in my lap. I’m here with my mama who I know loves me dearly. Dad’s gone, but I know he would be proud of my career. So why do I feel so twisted inside?
Tears wet my eyes. “I could stand to be more honest,” I say, trying to keep my quivering lip still. “It’s just so damn hard.”
She eyes me warmly as I let my tears fall. My mama has always been the only one I could do this with. Miss Beautiful looks up at me with sleepy eyes as I sniffle.
“I know it is,” Ma says. “But you know what your father always used to say?”
I look at her all serious. She never talks about Dad unless she has to.
“He was always honest,” she says. “No matter the price. He said that integrity was the most valuable thing we had. And if people didn’t like us for that, that was on them.”
I nod. I do remember him talking about honesty a lot, especially as a little kid.
“Kyle, search for the courage to be honest—and not just with this girl. But with yourself.”
I wipe my eyes. “I’ll try.”
“Do is better.”
By now, the quick burst of rain we got has subsided, and the sun is even shining through the clouds. Miss Beautiful rises from my lap, yawns and stretches, then makes her way to a ray of light on the couch. She settles into a loaf there and closes her eyes.
The sudden sunshine has me itching to get outside.
“Thanks, ma,” I say, wiping my eyes one last time. I set the stew down and get up and stretch. “You mind if I go to town for a little bit?”
“It’s a free country.”
I can’t help but grin. That’s her favorite thing to say.
I go to the door. “Need anything while I’m out?”
She perks up. “Oh, yes. There’s a book at The Book Corner that I need picked up if you don’t mind.”
