Hold On (Page 73)

Ethan stared at me, and he must have believed it too because he nodded.

I nodded back.

I had to do my last spritz of perfume and put on my shoes before Mom got there, then I had to chat with her and get to the bar, so I also had to get a move on.

I got up, about to tell my son we were all good, but as I was finding my feet, he spoke.

“I know I didn’t do right. I know what I did was bad,” he declared, looking up at me, right in the eye, face set. “I knew it then, but I decided I didn’t care. But you gotta know I thought about it before I did it. I just didn’t do it. You also gotta know that if Merry makes you happy, I’d do it again. I don’t care if it wasn’t right. Because sometimes, Mom, you gotta take chances even if you might be goin’ about it wrong, if what comes out of it is right.”

“I could argue that logic, baby,” I said softly.

“Then you’d be wrong,” he returned. “’Cause I’m not stupid. I’m a kid, but I got eyes and I got ears and kids talk. So do parents. I know, Mom.” His voice dipped. “I know you did some things even you thought weren’t right to take care of me. But you did ’em because takin’ care of me was right. So, in the end, they were the right thing, even though other people might think they were wrong.”

Shit, he had me there.

“I’m thinkin’ of tradin’ you in for a kid who’s a whole lot more stupid than you,” I announced, and his face cracked, his mouth quirked, and finally he couldn’t fight it anymore and grinned at me.

I started walking to my bedroom.

And I did it talking.

“Right, smart guy, when you win the Nobel Peace Prize, don’t forget your momma in your acceptance speech.”

“Whatever,” he called to my back, but I knew he did it still grinning.

I couldn’t help but grin too because that was done and I’d managed to get it done with my kid grinning.

I hit my room. I did the spritzing thing, strapped on my high heels, and grabbed my leather jacket.

I walked back out and was collecting my phone and grabbing a pack of Butterfinger Cups to throw in my purse (in case I needed a candy hit during work) when I saw Mom pull up to the curb.

“Okay, Ethan, I’m outta here. Be good for your gramma,” I said as I went to the door.

“Lucky for you, you can take it easy at work since you don’t gotta make as many tips because you got free labor since I did somethin’ stupid that still got you a date with the coolest guy in town,” he returned.

I wanted to be “severe mom” who put the kibosh on her kid being a smartass.

But the operative part in that was “smart” so I just shot him a smile before I walked out the door.

I met Mom halfway up the walk.

“Why’d you want me to come early?” she asked. “And where are you goin’?” She looked to the house and kept at me before I could even answer her first question. “Is Ethan okay?”

“I needed you to come early so I could tell you that Ethan’s got additional chores, a deal we made because he did somethin’ not right. He’s got kitchen duty and needs to keep the place picked up. He’s had dinner, but if you guys make a mess, it’s up to him to clean it.”

She looked back at me. “What’d he do?”

“Think that might be better it’s between him and me for now, Mom,” I told her quietly.

She’d been at my side with Ethan since I pushed him out, and during the pushing him out part, that was literally. This meant there were things she had with my boy, good and the odd times he was bad. I had the same things. Sometimes, Mom and me shared about those things. Sometimes, for Ethan, we did our own thing so the bad he did didn’t spread and make him feel like a loser.

It worked for all of us.

So at that moment, without another word, she nodded.

“Also, before it flies through the ’burg like I know it’s gonna do, want you to know I got a date with Merry tomorrow night.”

In the shadows cut liberally by my front light, I saw her eyes get huge.

Now, my mom, even at fifty-six, with a life that didn’t often treat her kind, had never lost hold on her girlie.

She demonstrated this right then, grabbing my hands and giving a little hop.

“Oh, my beautiful baby girl, that makes me so happeeeeeeeee.”

It made me happy too.

But for me and my mom, since life didn’t often treat us kind, she had to cool it with her expectations.

“Mom, it’s just a date.”

She leaned toward me, looking like a girl who just got her hand kissed by David Cassidy.

“With Garrett.” She leaned back. “He’s very handsome.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“He’s also very tall.”

“I’ve noticed that too.”

“Girl like you, you got length and you wear heels. Not easy for you to find a man who can top you, you’re wearin’ heels. Worried you’d find a boy and it’d be like Tom Cruise when he was with that pretty Kidman lady. They looked good together but never right. When you two walked into my house last week, holdin’ hands, I thought to myself, that there looks right.”

“Mom—”

“Quiet, baby girl, let your mom be happy,” she whispered in a way I snapped my mouth shut.

She’d never met Dennis Lowe. Not my choice, he’d found excuses not to bury himself deep in my life. Excuses I should have seen as red flags to at least share the fact he was married if not that he was a whackjob.