7
Peter
Past
The nerves churn in my gut as I pull up to the train station. I double checked the time my mom sent and I asked her again if she was sure that she was coming. All signs say yes. But I also know that I'm not going to believe it until I see her. Aunt Lily is still skeptical, and I suppose that she has good reason to be. After everything my mother has done, she's going to have to earn back Lily's trust.
Mine too.
There's a seed of hope in my stomach that isn't crushed though. It's sitting there like a piece of light waiting for her to walk off the train. I park the car and head inside. It's not too busy this time of day, and the signs clearly point to the train coming in from Virginia. The space is light and open, and there aren't a whole lot of places to sit, so I stand and wait by a pillar.
Eleven o'clock comes and goes, and nothing happens. It's almost ten past when people begin to spill out of the entryway for that train. It seems strange, but I'm worried that I won't recognize her. The last time I saw her she was so high, so wasted away from drugs, that she’d faded into someone that I barely recognized. If she's clean, then she might be the next iteration of her. Another person I don't recognize.
"Peter!"
There's a woman waving at me. She's older, but everything in me sags in relief. It's her. There's no doubt about it. That little seed of hope sends beams of light shooting through my body and I can't keep the smile off my face, or the speed out of my steps as I run over to her. I can't stop myself, I wrap her in a hug. "Hi, Mom."
She feels so familiar, and I have to push back tears as she wraps her arms around me.
"It's so good to see you," she says, pulling back to look at me. "You're so big!" She hesitates. "But of course you'd be different, it's been so long."
There's a light that goes out in her eyes and I hate the guilt that's there. "It doesn't matter," I say, picking up her suitcase. "You're here now."
"I am," she agrees.
I lead her through the station toward my car. I'm suddenly wondering what she's going to think of my life. My car, my apartment, my job. Will she be proud of me? Will she think the clunker second-hand car that I bought isn't good enough? I push down the nerves. "Are you hungry? We can go to lunch before we go home if you want."
She smiles. "That would be nice."
Downtown there are plenty of places to eat, and although I don't come down here much, I do know a cafe that has good food and prices that don't shoot straight through the roof. I put her bags in my car before zipping down the road to it. The silence in the car is overwhelming. Not awkward, just full of the things that I want to say and want to hear, and probably all the things she wants to say too. It's only a five-minute drive to the cafe, and neither of us speak, like we're waiting for the food to get us to open up.
It works.
Once we've both placed our orders, I ask, "So, how are you?"
"You know," she says, "I'm really good. I've gone to rehab, got a new job, and I think I'm finally getting my life back on track. I'm just sorry that you got in the middle of all of that."
I give her smile. I can't tell her that it's okay, because it's not. "It all worked out."
"How are you doing? What are you doing? I want to hear everything."
I'm not totally sure that she wants to hear everything, but once she asks, it's like the words just pour out of me. I didn't realize how badly I wanted to tell her how I fell in love with acting and Amber and about my dreams and wanting to move to L.A. I tell her everything that she's missed, even about Amber and how it fell apart and it's my fault. And how I tried to make up for it by making sure that she got into whatever college she chose.
"It sounds like you've had a good life since I left," she says, her face sad.
I reach across the table and take her hand. "It would have been better if you had been there."
"Do you actually believe that?" she asks.
"I do."
There's a silent moment before she squeezes my hand back.
"What job do you have now?"
She grins. "I'm a hair dresser. Once I got clean, this program helped me go to beauty school. I like it. There's something nice about helping people look their best. It's like being a therapist, but better. And I met a nice guy."
There's a twinge in my chest. My mother's problems in the past have stemmed a lot from men, but she has a right to be happy. And if she's gotten her life back together this much, then I need to give her the benefit of the doubt.
"Oh?"
"Yeah," she says, taking a bite of a french fry. "He came in for a haircut and we've been together ever since. He's a car salesman. Owns his own dealership and everything!"
"I'm really happy for you, Mom."
"Thanks."
I take a bite of my burger and swallow before I ask the next question. "Do you want to see Aunt Lily while you're here?"
Mom grimaces. "Does she want to see me?"
"She can be convinced, and I think it would be great for her to see how well you're doing."
"Yeah..." she trails off. "If she says yes, then sure. But I wouldn't blame her if she didn't want to see me. I honestly wouldn't have blamed you either."
"Why wouldn't I want to see you?"
She looks up, and her eyes fill with tears. "Because I abandoned you. I was too high to even care if you were safe or warm or homeless. What kind of mother does something like that?"
I smile, and squeeze her hand again. "I've forgiven you, and you're here now." The fact that I had forgiven her was news to me just now, but I'm not angry about it. There's nothing either of us can do to change it now, so there's no point in rehashing it over and over.
As we eat, we talk more about her lives. I tell her how I'm saving money to move to L.A. and that I want to make a go at acting because I think I could be really good at it, and she tells me about her favorite clients, and funny stories in her salon. Everything from bad mistakes to irate customers to the time her boss didn't see a pile of hair and slipped on it like a banana peel. It feels good. It feels natural.
Since Amber left, I haven't had anyone that I could just sit and talk about life with. Not that Amber is in any way like my mother, but she was my best friend. And telling my mom about everything that's been happening soothes that urge I have to call Amber and fill her in on all aspects of my life. And more than that, makes me feel alive again. Like I'm not the person that people use and abandon. That I mean something to someone.
When we finish eating and are heading back to the car, I ask her, "What do you want to do now? I can show you around the town. We can head back to my apartment. We could see a movie."
"I want to see where you live," she says, eyes bright, "But first." She opens the back of my car and digs around in one of her bags. She pulls out a present that's wrapped perfectly. Bright red paper and a white bow, almost like a present you would see in a TV commercial. "Tony, my boyfriend, has a friend that lives not too far from here. When he heard I was coming up here he asked if I could drop off this birthday gift so he could save on postage." She rolls her eyes but she's smiling. "Can we do that real quick? I have the address."