Page 88 of Something Good
“Hi, honey. I’m just checking to see if we can move dinner to a later time on Sunday. I’ve got a baby shower to go to that afternoon.”
“I’m in Chicago for a wedding this weekend, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. So I’ll just catch you next weekend for Mother’s Day then?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Okay. You boys have fun.”
I sighed. “It’s just me, Mom. Sammy didn’t come.”
“What? Why not?”
The train pulled into my stop, and I hopped up, grabbing my suitcase and shoving my way through the crowd to get to the platform. “I didn’t ask him to come. He’s got an art show this weekend, and I didn’t want to ask him to back out.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Bullshit.” I nearly bobbled the phone as I tried to maneuver around the crowd of people and down the steps to street level. “That boy would have rearranged his schedule in a heartbeat for you.”
It kind of tripped me up to realize he actually might have done that for me. “It wasn’t really an issue of whether he would or wouldn’t. I just didn’t want to put him out.”
“Honey, when are you going to stop punishing that boy for breaking up with you? It was ten years ago. You’ve been married and divorced since then.”
“What are you talking about?” I stepped into an alley, out of the way of foot traffic. “I’m not punishing him.”
“Are you sure about that?” She softened her tone. “Have you forgiven him?”
“I…I…” The truth was, I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I’m scared,” I admitted.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Let me ask you this. Were you ever scared when you were with Dmitri? Scared to marry him?”
When I thought back over it, I realized I’d been a little nervous and definitely excited, but there’d never really been any fear. “No, I guess not.”
“Because you weren’t risking anything.”
My heart never belonged to him. It wasn’t mine to give because it was still yours.
“Listen, honey, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I don’t think you’re doing it on purpose. And I think it’s normal tofeel cautious with someone who’s hurt you before. But make sure you’re not confusing fear with residual anger, or at least acknowledge it and work through it, if that’s the case.”
I leaned against the brick wall behind me, watching people walk past, rushing to their destinations at the end of a long work week.
“I don’t know, Mom. Whether it’s anger or fear, I don’t know how to move past it.”
“Did you guys talk about it? About the breakup and how you felt about it?”
“Yeah. We’ve talked about it a couple of times. He said he was just trying to do what was best for me.”
“Put yourself in his shoes. If the situation had been reversed and he was trying to give up his future to be with you, would you have done the same?”
I’d actually given that some thought since we’d talked about it, and I think I did understand where he’d been coming from.
“I don’t think that’s what I’m upset about. Or at least not anymore. I just wish he hadn’t taken that choice from me.”
“Honey, you were eighteen. And Sammy didn’t exactly have a good and stable family life. He was doing the best he could under the incredibly difficult circumstances he was dealing with.”
“I know that. I do. I just…” God, why couldn’t I just let this go? Why couldn’t I move past this?
