Page 56 of Saved By Noel
Mom purses her lips and hums. “Doyouthink you focus too much on others instead of doing what you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “I’ve never known how to be any other way. I mean, ever since I was a kid, I needed to be helpful to you and dad so that, you know . . .”
I trail off, but my mom looks confused rather than sympathetic. “What do I know?” she asks.
“Never mind,” I attempt to dismiss. “Let’s go back outside and have some food!”
My attempt at being casual epically fails.
“No, ma’am,” my mom says sternly. “You have some explaining to do. What do you mean about needing to be helpful to your dad and me?”
I’m trapped. This is the last conversation I want to have, but I can’t find an escape hatch. The only way out is forward.
I can’t quite meet my mom’s eyes as I explain. “You know, you and dad were always so sad about not being able to have another baby. I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t burdening you, that I could help make you happy.”
Stunned silence fills the room.Why has no one invented a real-life rewind button?! I’d pay good money for that right now.
“Honey, did we say something to make you feel that way?” my mom asks, eyes misty.
“No, Mom; of course, you didn’t. It’s something I put together in my own mind, I think. I hated seeing you and dad discouraged or crying or disappointed. Little-kid Clara just assumed the best way I could help you feel better was to be helpful instead of being needy.” The confession dam has broken, and everything is pouring out unhindered. “And, I guess, there’s part of me that still thinks I need to be focusing on other people’s needs all the time so that . . . so that they’ll need me. And love me. But that’s not your fault—this is all in my own head.”
Mom steps closer and takes my face in her hands. “Clara, I love yousomuch. And that has nothing to do with any of your actions. It’s because I’m your mother. Because the day I knew you existed, Ichoseto love you with every ounce of my heart for the rest of my life. You could have been the most rebellious, angst-inducing tornado of a child, and I still would have loved you with my whole being. Iwillalways love you, no matter what you do or don’t do.”
She pauses to wipe a tear from under her eye. “I’m sorry that we inadvertently made you feel like you had to act a certain way to be loved.”
“Mom, it’s not your fau—” I try to interrupt, but Mom cuts me off again.
“I know you think it’s not our fault, and it certainly wasn’t intentional. But maybe we should have hidden our pain from you better all those years when you were young. You’ve always been the greatest joy of our lives, Clara. Simply because you exist—not because you’re helpful or considerate or supportive. I wish I could go back and amplifythosefeelings in your memory.” She leans in to wrap her arms around me, and I hold on to her tightly.
“Thanks, Mom. I do know that you love me. You and Dad gave me the best childhood. I promise those are the memories I think about most. Clark’s comments just got me thinking about myselfin a different way. I’m a little off-kilter, I suppose,” I conclude as I pull back from our hug.
Mom’s head is once again cocked to the side, a sparkle in her eyes. “Maybe you need someone like Clark to help you approach life in a different way. Someone who pushes you to focus on yourself more.”
I roll my eyes. “I already have that someone. Her name is Madison. I just mostly ignore when she pushes me.” Mom raises an eyebrow. “Mom! You’ve never even met Clark! You don’t understand how . . . how . . . infuriatingly contradictory he is.”
A smug smile settles on my mom’s face. “I’m just sayingheis the one who finally got you to examine your helping habit. But then alsoaskedyou for help with the festival. Maybe he’s the perfect kind of contradiction for you.”
This conversation is decidedlynothelping my stomach settle down the Clark moths. Thankfully, my mom knows me enough to see my inner scramble for an escape. She takes the bowl of fruit and walks toward the door. “Come on out when you’re ready, sweetheart,” she calls back over her shoulder. I accept her invitation to stay put for a few minutes, collecting my thoughts.
Let’s be honest—zero thoughts are collected. They’re free-range chickens scattered across the sprawling farmstead at this point. Still, I appreciate sitting in the quiet before rejoining the red, white, and blue chaos outside.
My mom refuses to allow me to lift a finger all evening as we share dinner with their neighbors and watch the unsanctioned fireworks. As though she’s going above and beyond to prove a point—that I don’t have to help all the time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that she was already in cahoots with Madison and Clark.
The Wednesday after the Fourth of July, I’m keyed up with inadvisable amounts of excitement. Movie marathon day is finally here. Ever since the town unanimously voted to host a “Christmas Fest,” I’ve been anxiously anticipating this moment.
We’ll binge-watch three movies, have a group brainstorm session, then celebrate with a massive crawfish boil dinner. I’m not sure what to think about that last bit, but everyone else is excited, so I’m trying to play along.
Anxiety gnaws at my stomach as I think about seeing Clark today. I saw him when I came back to Noel the weekend before the Fourth of July. We had a strategy dinner with Syd and Davis to plan the Christmas in July brainstorm day, and Clark acted almost normal toward me.
But ever since my conversation with my mom, I’m torn on whether I think contradictory Clark is a good or bad fit for me.
Now that Clark has come around to the Christmas Fest idea, the primary reason behind his rude behavior aimed at me is no longer an issue. However, he still vacillates between acting mildly flirty and mildly grumpy toward me. I’ve decided I have no choice but to guard my heart and conclude that he doesn’t have the same attraction to me that I feel to him.
Because Ifeelit. Mega-feeling it. I can admit it: my heart is drawn to that gruff, tattooed, towering force of a man like a kid to the candy aisle.
I’m just not going to do anything about it. Having myideasrejected by Clark when he was adamantly against the Christmas Fest idea stung so badly. I don’t think I could handle it if he rejectsme.
Therefore, I’m switching to my helper mindset and staying far away from the Fire Swamp of my feelings for Clark Noel. Who knows what lightning sand or rodents of unusual size might be waiting to take me down?
