“You think we never noticed?” my mom goes on, then lets on the slightest smile. “All of these summers you’d come home from school … already halfway gone again. We’ve been watching you try to fit into a life that … didn’t quite seem to fit you, dear. Would you grow into it? Would you never? … We didn’t know.” She tilts her head as a tear that’s been sitting there lets loose. “We were giving you time, sweetheart. All the time you needed.”
I wipe at something tickling the top of my cheek.
I realize belatedly it’s a tear of my own. “Mom … Dad …”
“I didn’t raise my son to live someone else’s life,” she says, then leans in even closer. “I raised you to decide for yourself. And if you’ve got to …chaseChase to find it—excuse the silly pun—I think you owe it to yourself to do it.”
“And to your granddad,” says my father with a wistful smile, his eyes on my wristwatch.
Something lets go in the room.
Something that was so tight, I couldn’t breathe.
Now there’s all the breath in the room. All the air. Possibility. Freedom. Understanding. Harmony.
The next moment, I’m to my feet. Mom and Dad, too. Then I’m caught in a hug between both of them, sandwiched by my parents, and I’ve never more appreciated their smothering love than I do right now when I need it most. I feel my mom wag her hand, and then there’s a fourth body with his arms wrapped around us all.
This isn’t the end of my story. It’s not an ending at all. It feels like standing at the edge of something I can’t quite see yet, with no idea where it’s going to take me—and not being afraid for once.
Because I know I’m not doing it alone.
When we finally untangle from the hug, my mom hangs on.
“I’m gonna need a minute, babe,” she says, suddenly laughing through her tears. “Or ten or twenty. Or the whole damned day.”
“Come here, honey,” says my father, taking over—and gently releasing her iron-tight grip on my arm. Which is great, because I was losing circulation. “Let’s get some coffee in you. You still look hung over.”
“I don’thangover, I justdroop, and I don’t needcoffee, I needliquor.” She swats my arm and then snaps her fingers at Austin. “I require both of you to drink with me today, because I amnotdone partying with my wonderful son. Oh, and you had to go and do this on Independence Day,” she suddenly realizes. I wonder from her slightly elevated pitch if she isn’t still a little tipsy from last night. “It’s now myson’sindependence day, too, claimin’ your own independence from QueenCissy.”
My dad is holding back laughter. “Let’s go, honey. Give the boys a minute. Afternoon alcohol awaits.” He winks at each of us, his eyes lingering on me a touch longer, before my parents are out of the room. My mom’s still talking, whether it’s to me or Dad or Austin, I have no idea.
But now it’s just us.
Me and my still-shaking hands.
Austin and his odd expression as he stares expectantly at me.
That’s when it hits me.
“Oh. I …” I cover my mouth for half a second, then drop my hand. “I didn’t even … I didn’t even think to …”
“Were you plannin’ on cluingmein to your big see-the-world plans?” he teases, coming closer.
“I didn’t even ask if it was okay!”
“Is that what you want to ask me?”
“How presumptuous of me! To just …invitemyself into your tour like that!” I cover my face, humiliated, unable to look at him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“Just forget any of that happened.”
“No way.”
I drop my hands. “I mean, we made that joke by the pool …”
He wrinkles his face. “What joke?”