Tank stood in the doorway, gazing into the room, and deep sadness crept over him. His mother looked so frail and vulnerable with oxygen in her nose, and her bony shoulders rising up and down with each breath. Memories of his mother when she was strong and healthy flashed through his mind like an old movie of his childhood. A heavy sigh pushed through his lips as he entered the room.
“Hi, Mom.” He forced a smile for her before leaning down and planting a kiss on her cheek. He put his arm around her and squeezed. “Have you spotted your favorite squirrel?”
A smile spread across her face, deepening the fan of wrinkles around her eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, honey.” She squeezed his hand with her pale one. “I didn’t hear your motorcycle.”
“That’s ’cause you’ve been giving too much attention to your new pal.” He teased.
“He’s so cute. He knows me. When Myra takes me outside to sit in the garden, he comes up to me and I give him his treats. I’ve named him Nutty.” A small laugh bubbled past her lips, making the creases in her face more pronounced. “I know it’s not very original.”
“Some of the best names aren’t that original. How’re you feeling? You look… tired.”
She patted his hand. “I’m doing fine. You worry too much about me and you don’t have to. Myra takes good care of me.”
The caregiver was a godsend. They had gone through six or seven from the agency before Myra had come into their lives. She and his mother connected right away, and for the past year, Tank had breathed a lot easier knowing Myra was in the home.
“I worry about you the way you do with me.” He nudged her playfully. “Still, even though I’m thirty-one.”
“In my eyes, you’ll always be my little boy, no matter what age you are. That’s the way it is with parents and their kids.”
“Then don’t give me shit over worrying about you. Kids got that right too, you know.” He smiled and tucked the blanket around her legs. “I was thinking we could go to the Silver Strand sometime this week if you’re up to it. I’ll buy you lunch.” The twinkle in her pale blue eyes warmed him, and he chuckled. “I think you’re gonna take me up on that.”
“I’d love to go. I used to take you and your brother there a lot when you were in grade school. We’d have picnics.” She had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was reliving those memories.
“You’d make your kick-ass potato salad, and sometimes we’d pick up fried fish at the pier.”
Her head bobbed up and down. “At Anthony’s. They had the best fish in town. Sometimes we’d wait until the fishing boats came in. You used to love watching the boats coming into the harbor. I used to think you were going to join the Navy when you got older—that’s how much you loved the water and ships.”
He laughed. “Then I became a rebel in high school, and you realized there was no chance in that.”
She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “You came into your own in high school. You’re not made to follow the path others tell you to. I was happy you didn’t go out to sea because I love having you here. Now, your brother always had his head in books when you and the other boys were hanging out on the beach, tossing balls around. I don’t think Christopher liked the picnics as much as you did.”
Bitterness soured his stomach at the mention of his younger brother. He tried to keep the edge out of his voice when he asked, “Have you heard from him?”
“He’s busy with all his cases. That law firm keeps him working day and night. It’s the largest firm in L.A., and the third largest in California.” Her eyes lit up with pride.
“Yeah, I know.” I’ve heard that a million fucking times. “I’d think he could spare a ten-minute phone call. He managed to take a trip to Spain. Didn’t you get a postcard from him last month?” He regretted his words the minute he saw her pained expression. “Those firms are known for working you to death. You make the big money, but you don’t have much of a life.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You’re right.”
His mother gazed out the window, leaving Tank to wrestle with the anger he had regarding his brother. Since they were young, Christopher’s only goal had been to rid himself from the shackles of poverty and rise above it, which Tank thought was great. The problem was, he’d forgotten about the mother who had helped him climb the damn ladder. She had scrimped and saved for years to make sure the two of them had what they needed and wanted. For Tank, that was a Harley-Davidson. For Christopher, it was a college education. And now that he was a high-powered lawyer, he’d forgotten where he came from. He sent money to their mom and helped pay for her caregiver, but Tank knew all their mom wanted from her youngest son was to hear from him. His mom never said an angry or disapproving word about Christopher. In Tank’s mind, she was in major denial, but he figured that’s what kept her heart from breaking.
“Are you dating anyone?” His mother’s voice startled him out of his thoughts.
“Not really,” he replied, running a hand through his hair.
“Yes, you are. Do you know that whenever you’re upset or annoyed, you touch your hair? You’ve done that since you were little. So, who is the woman who has you all mixed up?”
Knowing it was hopeless to try and fool his mom, he leaned back in the chair. “I met her at Dawson’s engagement party. She catered it.”
When he didn’t go on, she patted his knee. “And?”
“We saw each other a few times. End of story.”
“No, it’s not. Did she break it off?”
Again, he swiped his fingers through his hair. “I guess. She won’t return my texts or answer my calls. She’s skittish with commitment.”
Her hearty laugh put a grin on his face. “And you’re not? Ever since you divorced Trisha, you’ve closed yourself off from any chance of finding happiness with a woman. This is the first time since your divorce that I’ve seen you caring about someone enough to be annoyed at her.”
“Yeah, I get the irony, Mom. I thought Lena was different, but then she pulls this ghosting shit on me, and it reinforces what I know—women can’t be trusted.”
“I’m a woman. Do you trust me?”
Tank grimaced. “That’s different, Mom.”
“No, it’s not. There are a lot of parents who aren’t there for their kids.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Look at your Aunt Martha. She was more interested in dancing every weekend than she was in her kids. How many times did Justin and Amy come over for dinner or sleep over when their mother was carousing around?”
“Yeah, Aunt Martha sucked as a mom.”
“Trisha was a lousy wife, and Martha was a selfish mother. There are good and not so good people out there, but just because you happened to have married one who was rotten, doesn’t mean all women are that way. I know Trisha hurt you, but you can’t give up on having a happy, loving relationship because of her. If you do that, you’re giving her a whole lot of power.”
“I guess. But Lena obviously doesn’t want anything to do with me.”