Chapter 20: Am I Ready
It's amazing how much more beautiful the world looks when you're not hiding from your own mother. The kitchen is flooded with afternoon sunlight, turning Mom's white hair into a silver halo as she sits across from me at the table.
"This is nice," I say, pushing the plate of sandwiches I made closer to her side of the table. Turkey and Swiss on sourdough, her favorite.
Mom smiles, those blue eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes my chest feel warm. She's wearing a simple white sundress today, nothing provocative, nothing designed to make me uncomfortable. Just Mom being Mom.
"It is nice," she agrees, taking a sandwich.
I nod, biting into my own sandwich. The normalcy feels fragile, like blown glass I'm afraid to touch too roughly. Last night's drinking session somehow reset things between us, brought us back to safer ground. I don't remember much after the third glass of tequila, but whatever happened, it seems to have satisfied something in her. The predatory edge that's been haunting her gaze has softened.
"So," she says, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, "how's that writing assignment I gave you going?"
I shrug, reaching for my glass of lemonade. "I'm not worried, honestly."
"Why not?" She asks with a look of surprise in her eyes.
"Because... I have a lot of experience... thinking about the topic," I admit, my voice dropping lower despite us being alone in the house.
Mom's eyebrow arches delicately. "Oh? You have ideas?"
Something about our current level of honesty and the momentary peace between us, makes me decide to be brutally honest. I set down my sandwich, meeting her eyes directly.