31
Willa
Playlist: “Home,” Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
One Year Later
“Willa, would you mind helping me?”
Elin gestures toward the sliding door that leads onto their home’s patio. She holds a massive tray of snacks not unlike the ones Ryder built for me constantly over our four-day loveathon last year in the A-frame. Those snack boards came in handy when I wouldn’t let him leave bed long enough to cook for us when I was unendingly hungry only for him. When I made him spoon me and play hours of his game, fill in the blanks.
I rush over, yanking open the door for her and clearing space on the table.
“Thank you.” She smiles as she straightens from setting down the tray. Over the past year, I’ve gotten to know and love Ryder’s mom. She’s quiet, like Ryder, and she’s kind and affectionate but not over the top, which makes it manageable for me to receive. Ryder says that’s very Swedish, that moderate, balanced approach to pretty much everything. Nothing too much. Just enough. Lagom it’s called. I’m about as un-lagom as they come, but Ryder and his mom—his whole family—love me anyway.
Elin sighs and sets her hands on her hips. “Why don’t we sit and have some wine, you and I? Ryder and Alex won’t be back for a few more minutes from their errand.”
I nod, swallowing nerves. Elin’s in on my plan. It’s the reason I asked her to keep it just the four of us tonight, knowing that was a big ask. Elin always wants all the kids together, and having spent a year’s worth of birthdays and holidays with them, I get it. Yes, I need breaks and escapes to Ryder’s room from the chaos, but the siblings are all pretty good to each other. They’re kind and funny. They like board games and pick-up soccer, and they make amazing food. They play old music and watch tear-jerker movies that make me feel my feelings. I understand why she loves having her family together.
But today, I need it to be just us.
Ryder and I graduated yesterday, him with honors, and me with enough honor that while I was not a top-marks student, I was proud of earning decent grades while busting my ass playing Division-1 sports. We’re celebrating with his parents, as I sit on a daunting piece of information and an even more daunting question.
“I’ll get the wine,” I tell her. “Why don’t you have a seat and relax?”
Elin smiles as she sits. “Thank you, Willa.”
Slipping inside, I pull a chilled bottle of white from the refrigerator and grab two glasses. When I slide the door shut behind me, Elin is staring into the grove of trees, a sad look on her face.
“What’s the matter?”
“Hm?” She turns back toward me. “Oh. I was thinking about death and heartbreak. And I was thinking about your mother.”
Air rushes out of me. I drop slowly into my seat.
Be careful what you ask a Swede, Ryder’s told me. They’ll tell you exactly the truth, and nothing less. Job loss, dying relatives, affairs. I’m not kidding.
I thought he was kidding.
Clearing my throat, I uncork the wine and pour her a glass, then me. “What about her?”
Elin tips her glass to mine in quiet cheers. “Life’s balancing act, birth and death, the cycle of existence, is unavoidable of course. But it is sad, too. I grieve for you, and I’m sorry she’s not here.” After a beat, she says, “Joy would be very proud of you.”
I blink away tears. Each day since Mama’s death, I feel like I can breathe a little better, but the dull ache in my heart hasn’t even begun to abate. Ryder holds me lots of nights in bed and lets me cry. I cry more now than I ever used to. Opening my heart to loving someone how I love Ryder means cracking open my heart to all other feelings. Ryder’s never impatient, never resentful, even if it breaks up lovemaking, or interrupts dinner. He just holds me and stays right there with me in his quiet way.
“I hope so. I miss her.”
Elin smiles gently. “I see so much of her in you. You always have her with you, Willa.”
I smile back at her. “That’s what she said, too.”
Quiet descends between us for a minute as we sip our wine and the sun lowers in the sky. Their garden’s an explosion of flowers, the grass as deep green as Ryder’s eyes. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, as I think about him. I’m still in that crazy-in-love phase. I’m not exactly sure I ever won’t be. Every morning I wake up next to him feels too good to be true.
Elin clasps my hand. “I have something to say to you.”
“What about?”
She squeezes my hand, then sits back, her pale blue eyes locked with mine. “Ryder will die one day.”
I choke on my wine. “Jesus, Elin.”
“What?” She shrugs. “He will. He will also hurt your heart in tiny very human ways, over the years. He might even break it.”
“Well.” I sit back and take a giant swill of wine. “The mystery of where Ryder gets his blunt streak is now solved.”
Elin laughs. “Oh, Willa, I’m not explaining myself well. What I mean is…if you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do tonight, I hope you know that I support you two not despite what life has already thrown at you both, but because of it. I’ve seen your love for each other. Your love is strong and tested, even stronger because life has already brought you both hardship.”
Her words sink in. Old Willa would have never made it to this night with Ryder to hear that affirmation. She’d never be here, nodding, conceding how damn vulnerable loving him is, how open to heartache welcoming him deeper and deeper into her life has and will continue to make her. But New Willa, with over a year’s worth of counseling, including several joint sessions with her boyfriend to work on building deeper trust and better communication, sits here, knowing that this scary, bottoming-out feeling in her stomach isn’t something to fear—it’s a measure of the depth of her love.
I take a slow breath and swirl my wine, focusing on the waves of liquid. “Thank you for saying you believe in us.”
Elin’s smile is gentle as her hand softly squeezes mine again. “I hope I didn’t overstep. I want to encourage you, and yet I know I’m not your mother, and I never can replace her. But I am seven people’s mama, and my arms are always open. My heart, too.”
Meeting her smile, I squeeze her hand back. “Thank you.”
“Hi, Sunshine.” Ryder steps onto the porch, bending and kissing me immediately. It’s as exciting as it is familiar, the way it always starts as an innocent press of lips and then opens to a gentle taste, a quiet reminder that want and hunger are never far away for him.
“Hi yourself,” I say.
He straightens, squeezing my shoulder before he leans and kisses his mom’s cheek. Plopping between us in a chair, Ryder riffles through the smorgasbord, pulling a few nuts, some dried fruit, and a hard salami slice into his palm. Elin’s eyes meet mine over his head and I nod.
She stands and pats Ryder’s back. “I’m going to go help your father sort out the food you two picked up. I’ll be back in a little.”
Ryder’s halfway standing. “You don’t have to, Mom. I said I’d help Dad cook—”