“Chase, I know it’s your birthday,” my mom says, “but since we’re in a little lull in the celebration, we need to talk about last night.”
She knows. How does Mom always know what happens?
She leads me into her office over the garage. I look down at the rug and realize that it looks familiar.
“Is this new?”
“Isn’t it great? I loved the ones I installed at Tripp’s lake house so much that I finally got one for myself.”
And then I remember why it looks familiar. One just like this was on the floor of the honeymoon cottage Dani and I went to when we got caught in the rain. It was our first time, and I can picture her lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, looking up at me.
“So—” Mom says.
And since I know exactly what she’s going to say, I start talking. Because I need to talk to someone about this.
Once I tell her most of what happened last night, I add, “But, Mom, please, you can’t tell her dad. He’d kill me. I’ve heard the way he talks about boys she dates, and if he knew what happened on his brand-new pontoon boat, he’d literally kill me.”
Mom’s eyes are searching mine, looking confused. She blinks a few times, lets out an exhale, and then slowly says, “I actually brought you up here so we could talk about what happened when Ryder walked in on you and Lacey before the game. He’s been telling all his friends about the boobs he saw. I had to have a chat with him about respecting boundaries.”
Oh shit. She didn’t know. “Um,” I say, nervously rubbing my eyebrow.
“But it appears you have something else on your mind. Are you telling me that you and Dani slept together on the pontoon boat last night?”
“Yes. And I still don’t know why. Well”—I chuckle—“I mean, I know why. I just don’t know what it means.”
“Chase, we’ve talked about this. You shouldn’t be having sex with a girl unless you care about her. And with Dani of all people?”
“Mom.” I give her my pathetic eyes. She’s a sucker for them. “It’s not that way. At least, it isn’t for me. At all. It never has been.”
“You’ve always had a crush on her, huh?”
“I have, but it’s more than that. We haven’t been close, you know, since everything. And she brought me pizza after the game, like when we had been friends. We went to the hot tub because it was nice out, but then people showed up, so we snuck out on the pontoon. She wanted to keep talking to me. And we haven’t talked or anything since that summer.”
“You were always best friends. I sort of assumed that maybe someday you would have sex. It wasn’t the first time, was it? I never really believed the whole story surrounding the Great Ozarks Robe Fire.”
“It wasn’t.” I bury my face in my hands. I can’t believe I’m talking to my mom about this. But I need to talk to someone about it. “It happened the day it stormed. We almost got hit by lightning on our run. We were close to that honeymoon cottage at the back of the property. That’s not why we went there. We were seeking shelter. But that’s where it happened. It was both our first times. We were in love, for sure. We were going to tell everyone when we got back home that we had decided to date. I was even going to talk to her dad about it first. We planned to be in an official relationship by Homecoming, but then Hunter asked her on that first day of practice. And it’s been a mess ever since.”
“Until last night?”
“Yeah. We talked. Decided to be friends again. I didn’t expect for it to happen. It just did. And it was—”
“Incredible?” Mom says.
I let out another sigh and nod. “I’m totally in love with her, and I have no idea what to do about it.”
“And what about Lacey?”
“We’re not in a committed relationship. I’ve been adamant about that. I tell her it’s because I have to keep my focus on football, but really—”
“It’s because she’s not Dani.”
“Basically, yes.”
“Oh boy.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Hey,” my dad says, interrupting us by knocking on the door as he steps into the office.
“I’m glad you’re here, Phillip,” Mom says to him. “I know I said that I wanted to wait, but now, after talking to Chase, I think we should.”
“Okay,” he says, moving toward her and squeezing her hand tightly.
She gets up, takes a box off one of her shelves, and then sets it in front of me. She pulls out what appears to be a journal of some kind. The cover is a rugged leather, but it’s tied shut with pastel ribbons. She undoes the ribbons, and as she’s flipping through the pages, I can see that there are a wide array of papers inside. Almost like scraps, but they coordinate in the sort of bohemian fashion my mother loves.
“Your dad bought me this journal when I was pregnant with you. I love all my children equally, Chase, but this day—your birthday—is special for other reasons. I know we’ve talked about them before. I know I’ve told you that you were meant for greatness your whole life.
“I have been saving this journal for you. I wanted to give it to you when you were expecting your first baby, but today, on your eighteenth birthday, I’d like you to read the last few pages. Because unlike the rest of the book, they aren’t just about my pregnancy struggles; they showcase the way your dad and I have felt about you since the day you were born.
“I want to read you a passage and then let you read the ones that your dad and I wrote,” she says, her eyes filling with tears, “when you have a few moments alone. And know that if you aren’t ready to read them, that’s okay, too. But I want you to have them now.”
She pulls a few pieces out of the journal by untying the ribbons, carefully ties them back up, puts the book away, and then reads to me.
“Phillip gave me this journal, so I could write to the baby, but that isn’t really what I’ve done. The journal is written more for me than for him.
I wrote some things that probably aren’t appropriate.
I wrote some things that are probably stupid.
I wrote some things that are probably silly.
But this journal represents my real journey. It’s not a sugarcoated fluff piece.
And someday, I’ll tell him that nothing in this journal prepared me for the way I feel right now.
Nothing.
No childbirth class.
No books read.
Nothing could have prepared me because there is nothing in the world that compares to the feeling of holding your baby for the first time.”
She smiles at me and says, “After I wrote that, I decided I’d save it for when you were expecting your own child. Because I wanted you to know that, sometimes, life doesn’t always go the way you planned it. And sometimes, tragedy can strike when you least expect it. But sometimes, it can be even more incredible than you ever imagined. You, Chase Michael Mackenzie, are more incredible than I ever imagined. And I am so incredibly proud of you. And just for the record, it has nothing to do with your ability to throw a football or look pretty in front of a camera. I’m proud of you because you are a good person. But—”