Zander
“Look at you…my son, the teacher,” Mom said, using her cane to walk into the kitchen.
“Sit down, Mama. I already started the coffee.” I didn’t want her on her feet any more than she had to be. “And you said that same thing to me last night when I arrived.”
Her smile was so wide it split her face. She was beautiful—my mom. I got my lips from her, my eyes too. Everyone used to always tell me I was gorgeous just like her. She was beautiful and kind and way too young to be in so much pain. Life had dealt her a crappy hand, yet she went through it with a full heart and a grin on her face. And she deserved better than my father. She should have moved on a long time ago. She shouldn’t have let him come in and out of her life, using her, then leaving her waiting for him to come back.
I would never forgive him for it.
He would likely never care.
“I can’t help it. I’m so proud,” she replied. I helped her over to the table and to sit down. “You know that, right? How proud I am of you?”
“I do.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“You and Molly are the lights of my life. You’re both going to do bigger and better things than your daddy and I ever did.”
“Thanks, Mama.” I fixed us both a cup of coffee, setting hers in front of her before taking a seat. “Sorry it’s been so long since my last visit.” There was no excuse, really. It was only a couple of hours away. Two jobs or not, they were my family, and I left them alone.
“You’re busy. You could hardly get this whole weekend off at the coffeehouse. Cut yourself some slack. We’re okay around here. Molly has a couple of friends. I’m handling things here okay.”
“How’s your back?”
“Today is a bad day, but there are good days too. Sometimes I feel like I can live a normal life, but then it hits me again, and I can’t get out of bed.”
Back pain and injuries changed people’s lives. I wouldn’t have truly understood that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about that, though,” she added. “I know we talk on the phone all the time, but tell me about your job anyway. I want to look in your eyes when you talk about it.”
So I did. I told her about my students and lessons and becoming friends with Cameron and Leticia. I shared how it felt to stand in front of that classroom, the hope I had each and every day that I was changing lives, making them better.
I talked some about Ross too, but I didn’t mention Harrison. I wasn’t sure how to even do that or why it was such a struggle. Harrison was my friend just like the others I mentioned…only he was more. Explaining the more part would open up a whole can of worms that I’d probably be unable to contain again, so I kept that shit on lockdown.
“Your car is nice. I noticed it in the driveway when I got up this morning.”
Because of course I would sit here thinking about keeping Harrison to myself, and she would mention the car. As great as my mom was, I didn’t know if she’d understand. I wasn’t going to tell her it was just sex, that was for sure. But she was forty-five, only four years older than him. How did I tell her the guy I was…close to was only four years younger than her?
“My friend Harrison owns a bunch of car dealerships. He helped me get it. I’m paying him for it, though.”
“Harrison…you’ve mentioned spending time with him before. Didn’t you used to jog with him?”
Shit. How did I not realize I’d mentioned him before? Though, how could I not have with the amount of time we spent together? “Yes.”
“And now he gave you a car?”
Okay, well, I could see how that sounded. “He didn’t give it to me.” But he would have if I’d let him.
“Oh…that’s interesting…”
The way she spoke made it sound like she thought something gross was going on, and it wasn’t. The need to defend Harrison slammed into me like a tidal wave I hadn’t seen coming. “This isn’t anything weird, Mama. I promise. Harrison is a really good guy. He’s caring and responsible and likes to help others. Family is important to him, as are his friends. I’m not sure there’s anything he wouldn’t do to help someone if he could.” And yet, I wasn’t telling her that he was Ross’s dad…or how old he was. It felt like a betrayal, like I was ashamed of him, and I wasn’t.
“It sounds like you know this Harrison very well and that you’re…close…?”
My heart pounded against my chest, one leg bouncing up and down. “Normal close. Not any closer than I am to anyone else.” The words felt wrong on my tongue, tasted like a bitter lie. “What do you want to do today?” I asked, changing the subject. It was still early. Bug was sleeping.
“Yard sales, of course.”
I grinned. It was so silly. I didn’t know why we loved it so much. Maybe because when I was young, it was one of the only ways we got new things—well, new to us. But we’d always loved going to yard sales together. “Will you be okay to go out?”
“Yep. I have a wheelchair a friend gave me. We can bring that.”
We woke Molly up, who grumbled about not sleeping in on the weekend, until we told her what we were going to do.
“Oh my God! We haven’t been to yard sales with you in forever!” Molly said, hugging me. I loved them so much. I loved being with them but hated this town. My dream was to one day be able to afford a place in Atlanta where Molly and Mom would live with me.
We had a quick breakfast and then got dressed. I loaded the wheelchair into the trunk of the car while Molly used her phone to figure out where there were local yard sales.
We lucked out, finding a neighborhood that was having a community sale. Nearly every house had some kind of something out to sell for cheap.
Once Mom was in her chair, I pushed her to the first house. They didn’t have much, but at the second house Molly found a shirt she loved and Mom got a handheld mirror that reminded me of a princess movie. She liked that kind of stuff.
We were at the fourth house, my family looking at a bunch of knickknacks. On the ground near a card table, in a plastic bin, were two old cameras, one of them a Polaroid. Not one of the newer ones that were made to look vintage, but an actual old-school Polaroid, and the other… Well, I didn’t know what it was, but it looked cool as hell.
“It’s a 1950 Rolleicord,” an older gentleman said.
“Does it work?” I hoped that wasn’t a stupid question. Maybe it was too old to work.
“Yep, it does. I used to consider myself an amateur photographer in my day. I’m too old now to do much with it. Don’t have any family or anything. I’d love for it to go to someone who would show it some TLC. Do you take photos?”
“No, but my…friend does. Well, he used to. He’s fallen out of it a bit, but he’d like to get back into it.” At least, that’s what he’d said. I hoped I wasn’t jumping the gun here. “I think he would really like this, and he would definitely take care of it. Maybe it would be just what he needs to get back into taking photos.” Or maybe I was out of my damn mind. If Harrison wanted to take photos, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t go out and buy a camera himself, one that wasn’t old and might not work. And even if it did work, the thing might take shitty photos, but…it just felt like something he would enjoy. I wanted to do something special for him. I wanted him to know how much his friendship meant to me.