Changes in Latitudes Page 27

  If this were Tara and Jess, that comment would have earned an instant “Do you really think so?” followed by an overanalysis of my future relationship with Jonah from every possible angle. But I’m determined to hear the rest of Mom’s explanation, so I bite my cheek and keep quiet.

  She shrugs, almost imperceptibly. “As long as I’m apologizing to you, let me add that one. I shouldn’t have made a snap judgment about the kind of person Jonah is. I hope when you consider the perspective I brought to it, you’ll understand why I reacted the way I did initially.”

  I think of Drew/Yoda’s words and bite my lip. Goddamn “perspective” and the number it’s done on my life.

  “But what happened with Matteo?” I won’t let her derail this conversation before I get my answers.

  My mother’s smile is wry as she continues. “Right. Well, it wasn’t the best response on Matteo’s part, I’ll give you that. In his defense, we were very young back then.”

  Then she sighs. “Anyway, it was close to the end of summer when I found out, so after that I just . . . went home. Went back to school. And for the seven weeks that followed, between when I learned about the baby and when I lost him or her, I was totally alone. I was too scared to even tell Nana and Gramps because I felt like I’d disappointed them. I refused to confide in any of my friends because I was so embarrassed I’d let myself get into that predicament. Can you imagine being too stupid to reach out to friends who love you?”

  I make a sympathetic face, but inside I’m thinking Only too well. I know Tara and Jess would have comforted me if I’d confided in them about Mom’s cheating, but I also knew there was nothing they could have said to make it any better, and then a very small part of me worried—what if they judged me for forgiving her if I ever decided to? Even then, at my angriest, a tiny, hopeful part of me wanted to believe Mom and I would move past it.

  Mom sighs, lost in her own story. “Being pregnant without anyone to talk to was the scariest feeling in the world. Knowing I was losing the baby and riding to the hospital in the ambulance by myself and having to lie there and wait for the doctors to come in . . . It was awful.”

  My throat constricts and I reach over and grab her hand. She squeezes in appreciation.

  “I wouldn’t wish it on my enemy. So when I met your dad a few months later, and I fell in love with him, I went from feeling completely alone to latching on to all the safety and security he was offering. And love. Definitely love that went both ways. Your father’s one of the good guys, Cass. Despite what’s going on with us right now, he always will be.”

  “Okay, but I don’t really understand what this has to do with anything. If you didn’t meet Dad until after everything was over and—” I break off as understanding dawns. “Matteo was the guy you cheated with? After what he did to you?”

  “No! Well, not—” She sighs again, more deeply this time. “Your father has always had a weird thing about Matteo. He knows everything that happened back then, of course, but I think he also recognized that, before I’d gotten pregnant, my relationship with Matteo had been—”

  She breaks off for a second, then says, “I guess you’re old enough to hear this. We had a pretty passionate relationship and it wasn’t . . . which wasn’t the same as what your dad and I had.

  “Anyway, last summer, Matteo reached out to me on Facebook.”

  “I don’t understand. How could you want to talk to someone who left you alone and pregnant? How could you ever forgive that?”

  My mother grimaces. “Because when we grow up, we mature, and we realize that someone could act a certain way out of fear, but it doesn’t have to define them for life.”

  I’m silent as her words hit too close to home for comfort.

  Then I can’t help saying, “So, what? You went running right back into Matteo’s arms.”

  “I didn’t go running into his arms, Cassie. I can promise you, I haven’t spent time in anyone’s arms but your father’s since the day I said ‘I do’!”

  “But Dad said—”

  “Your father was upset I was opening up about things with Matteo in a way your dad and I hadn’t done with each other in a long time. He felt betrayed, and I can appreciate that.”

  I shake my head. “I really, really don’t understand.”

  My mother sighs. “I know, baby. But the thing is, your dad and I had grown apart. Maybe not to the point of divorce yet, but we’d lost a lot of the intimacy our relationship used to have. Not the family part of our relationship and who we were around you, but the adult side of a marriage that’s separate from the mother-father part.

  “We weren’t in a great place, and I wasn’t ready to defend my being in contact with Matteo to your dad, so I hid it from him. When he discovered it on his own, I don’t blame him for also assuming other things that weren’t true and reacting.”

  “So you didn’t—you never—”

  My mother shakes her head. “I can’t believe that’s what you’ve been thinking this whole time.”

  Neither can I. This whole time. Oh my god.

  She. Didn’t. Cheat.

  Everything I thought about her, the way I acted because of it—I want to crawl under the covers and cry for the last seven months and every emotion I wasted on them.

  But no. Those emotions aren’t all about the cheating. They’re also about the divorce itself and how it ripped the ground out from under me, and how she didn’t take my feelings into account with this trip, and now, again, with selling our house. It still doesn’t change any of those things. I still need more answers.

  “Does Dad still not believe you that you were just talking to Matteo? Are you still talking to Matteo?” I ask. “Otherwise, why is Dad so angry with you?”

  “Dad believes me and, no, I haven’t spoken to Matteo since January. Dad’s angry because this isn’t how he wanted things to play out. But talking to Matteo was just one in a series of events that gave momentum to something that was already building with Dad. Once Matteo and I worked through our unsettled business from back then, we talked a lot about that time in our lives. It made me realize how much I’d changed and given up . . . it reminded me of the kind of person I used to be—someone who took more chances and lived with a bigger sense of adventure.”

  “You’re saying you don’t like who you’ve become?” I ask.

  Is she implying she regrets marrying Dad? Having me and Drew?

  “It’s not that. I’m proud of the things I’ve accomplished with my life. I’m especially proud to be a mom to two such amazing kids.”

  She pauses and smiles at me. I can’t respond. I’m still waiting for the “but.”

  “But talking to Matteo also reminded me about a lot of dreams for my life that I walked away from—sailing among them—and it made me look long and hard at the ones I still have left for myself. And I realized . . . I wanted more than what your dad and I had.”

  Maybe, maybe, I understand a little of what she’s saying. But the fact remains, she still acted out of selfishness. There were other people to consider. Dad. Me. Drew. “Why didn’t you try to change things with Dad? Therapy or—”

  Why didn’t you fight for our family like I’ve been doing?

  I stand and cross to the window again. The parking garage below is an endless series of cars entering and exiting.

  “We tried.”

  I’m stunned. “When?”

  “After your dad moved to Hong Kong. We had virtual sessions with a marriage counselor for several months.”

  I lean into the windowsill. “Why didn’t you say anything to me or Drew?”

  When I turn to face her, she looks miserable. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up for some kind of happy reunion between us. I was realizing that wasn’t what I wanted. Learning to be an independent person and making my own decisions for the first time in my adult life, it’s been . . . empowering. This is what I need right now.”

  “But you’re not supposed to be independent,” I say, not loving the wh
ining that creeps into my voice or even the words that leave my mouth. “You’re supposed to be my mom.”

  “I am your mom. I’m trying to be both. And to be honest, it’s a little selfish of you to say that, Cass. You’re going off to college next year, and Drew’s not all that far behind you. What am I then? Yes, I’m still your mom, but am I supposed to freeze the scene until you return for visits to the family homestead or something? That’s not exactly fair, is it?”

  I can’t deny it’s what I’d always pictured. I’d come home for holidays and Mom would have made Aunt Lori’s chicken recipe for my first night back, because she knows it’s my favorite, and Drew would be on the couch playing video games. Then Dad and I would head to the grocery store first thing Saturday morning for our ultra-competitive version of Coupon Showdown where we divide the list and compete to see whose receipt shows the biggest savings (loser buys bagels and lox). Everything slipping right back to normal, until it’s time to leave again.

  Maybe that’s not fair of me to expect, but she never gave me any reason to think that wasn’t a reasonable fantasy until this year. And maybe it is selfish of me, but didn’t she act in her own self-interest too? Was it really fair to put us all through the wringer so she could recapture her glory days or find her one true self or whatever?

  I’m wrestling with this internally when my mother says, “Maybe it’ll help to know that, even though this is my choice, I’m scared too. In my darker moments, I feel like I failed as a wife, that my career is currently nonexistent, and now I’m crashing and burning as a parent—especially with you. I know I’ve taken away your trust in life being inherently good, and I’m so sorry for that. It’s like I’ve robbed you of your innocence.”

  Before I can answer, she rushes on. “Mostly I’m scared of losing you. I never wanted my independence from you. Things between us have been so awful and so cold, and I knew that after this next year, you’d go off to college, and if we didn’t fix this between us, you’d be gone and maybe we’d never have a chance to get things back the way they were. I know you never wanted this trip, but it was my Hail Mary.”

  I don’t know how to respond. She should have talked to me. Yes, she made references to “putting our family back together,” but she should have spelled out what she really meant by that before we left, so she didn’t have to resort to forcing this trip down my throat. She should have—

  “You weren’t in a place to hear me.”

  I glare at her, but I smile at the same time. “Get out of my head.”

  “Can’t. They’d have to revoke my mom card if that day ever came,” she answers, and smiles, along with a wince that makes me glance at the clock to confirm that medicine time is fast approaching.

  I study her for a second. “Why doesn’t that go both ways, then? How come I can never get inside your head? Why didn’t I have any idea you were feeling any doubts about Dad or your life or . . . anything?”

  My mother’s smile fades and her eyes flutter shut for a second. “Because I’m your mom and I wanted to protect you. I’ve had a whole lifetime of training at putting on a good appearance. But I hate that I’m setting that example for you, because I don’t want you to grow up thinking you can’t show weakness or that you can’t let people in when you’re feeling insecure. Except . . .”

  She trails off and I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “Except what?” I finally ask.

  “I don’t know how to drop my guard and let all the vulnerable show. I mean, I’m just so used to slapping on a cheerful smile and dealing. I might—I might need your help.”

  I snort. “My help? I can’t even deal with the idea of the bad stuff, much less the reality when it actually happens!”

  She shrugs lightly. “Okay, so what if I call you out on your b.s. and you call me out on mine? I mean, life’s messy, right? It’s not like we won’t have plenty more chances to practice.”

  She makes it sounds so easy—the two of us taking on the world. But nothing’s that simple, and there’s been all this bad blood between us for so long. Even now that I understand things a whole lot better and there’s this massive relief she didn’t cheat—it’s still overwhelming. I still need time to process. I still have feelings about how it all went down and her role in that. I don’t know if I’m ready to let go entirely and skip off down the garden path with her.

  But at least I can see the path now, so maybe there’s hope for us.

  I’m composing my thoughts to answer when I hear the door open behind me.

  “If you have drugs in that hand, you are my very favorite person in the world,” Mom tells the nurse who enters. I wipe my cheeks and clear my throat, avoiding eye contact with Mom as the woman approaches.

  The nurse politely ignores my emotional state and instead chuckles as she drops two pills on the table next to Mom’s glass. “That’s what they all say. But see if they remember my name come discharge time.”

  “Knock, knock. Can we come in now too?” Drew appears in the doorway, Jonah hovering behind. Both have their eyes locked on me, even as they wait for Mom’s answer. She looks to me as well.

  “Had enough for one day?” she asks, quietly enough that only I can hear her.

  I nod. I think I have. I’m glad I have so many more of the puzzle pieces to work with. Now I just have to figure out how they all fit together to form the complete picture. I have to turn everything over under the lens of my new perspective. I think I might really hate that word.

  Mom gives me a lingering look, full of sympathy and tinged with hope, then turns to the doorway.

  “C’mon in, my other heroes,” she says, gesturing them over as the nurse slips out.

  Drew leans close and gives Mom a peck on her bandaged forehead, and Jonah moves to my side as soon as I stand.

  He eyes me carefully, and I know my Irish skin must be betraying my crying session right now, if my puffy eyes weren’t enough of a dead giveaway. His eyebrows rise in a silent question and I nod. Yes, I talked to her. There’s still a lot more to do, but it was a really good start.

  As if he understands all this from my expression, he smiles softly, then reaches into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

  “Sprite for my favorite sprite?” he asks, handing me an icy soda can. Our fingers brush and the familiar tingles shoot up my arm. He grins, and I know he feels them too.

  “Can I please hug her?” he asks my mom.

  She looks amused as she replies, “Be my guest.”

  It feels so good to have his arms wrapped around me. Despite Jonah’s advice about creating my own safe to carry within me, and as much as I agree with it in theory, I’m not above admitting that sometimes it feels very sweet and comforting to be all wrapped up by a boy you like. Especially one who smells like fresh air and sunshine and fabric softener and . . . chocolate? I’m guessing he has some Ghirardelli on him somewhere.

  Jonah turns to my mom, keeping one arm tight around me. “I’m really glad you’re out of the woods, Mrs.—er, Elise.”

  My mother smiles her thanks.

  Jonah slides a glance at me. “I’m also really glad I got to use that phrase so organically, because Cassie here thinks all land-related sayings are good ones, but if you’ll kindly direct her to take note—”

  “Since when is it not a good thing to be out of the woods?” I protest.

  Jonah’s eyes dance. “I seem to recall a certain person claiming that ‘safe harbor in the storm’ was still negative because it implied being unsafe on the water prior to that. Applying that same logic to our woods scenario . . .”

  “Oh, blow it out your ass,” I mumble.

  “Language!” my mother says automatically.

  Drew laughs, and just like that, things are back to some semblance of normal.

  “Fine,” I amend. “Jonah, kindly go gargle a porcupine.”

  He makes a goofy face before releasing me. I crack open my Sprite and Jonah eyes it. “After all our sailing adventures, I may need to find a new nickname for you. I�
�m thinking you’re becoming way more water nymph than wood sprite these days.”

  “That could all change back,” Mom says, and we each turn our attention to her.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  She locks eyes on me. “I won’t force you to continue this trip. The odds of anything like our whale encounter happening again are minuscule, but there are plenty of other things that can go wrong out there, and I can’t put you in that position again without your full consent.”

  “Will the doctors even clear you to sail?” Drew asks.

  Mom nods gingerly. “They already have. Christian, Miranda, and I talked about it when they were in here earlier, and if we continue, the plan would be for me to head to San Diego with Nana and Gramps and spend a couple more days resting at their house. The adults would divide up and help you two caravan Sunny-Side Up south to meet me. After that I’d need to take it easy to start, but I’d be able to help with most things.”

  She exhales and slides her eyes back to me. “But if you want to go home tomorrow, I’m fine with that too.”

  I throw my hands up. “Oh, really? How would the boat get to Mexico? And we’d go home to what exactly? Someone else is living in our house. Or . . . their house. Or . . . I don’t even know anymore.”

  My mother raises her chin. “Christian thinks he can find someone to bring Sunny the rest of the way to Land’s End. As for the house, I don’t know what we’ll do about that yet, but you get to weigh in on the decision. If I’ve learned anything these last couple of days, it’s that I’m done railroading over you, Cass. And where this trip is concerned, it’s your call entirely. Whatever you choose, I’ll support you totally. Your turn to boss me around.”

  I stare at her in shock, but she just stares calmly right back.

  Do I want to keep sailing when all I’ve wanted for most of this trip is to get back home to my friends, and my garden, and my life there? I glance out the window, where, although I can’t see it, somewhere off in the distance the blue of the Pacific Ocean sparkles underneath all the Southern California sunshine. It might glisten, but I know the dangers it holds too. Do I want to put myself at its mercy again? Open myself up to all the myriad unknown possibilities?