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“Thank you,” I say, taking the mug.
The taste is strong and earthy and I’m not quite sure what the medicinal properties of this piping hot liquid are, but I’ve gotten used to drinking it over the years. When it comes to the old hippie ladies around town, sometimes it’s better to not ask questions.
Turns out, Gen isn’t shy about being the one to ask questions this morning.
“So…” she grins at me. “That pretty bartender of yours is back in town?”
Oh god. “Yeah, she’s back,” I say simply.
Gen prods further. “And she’s staying with you at the house?”
“Temporarily.”
“I hope you’re being a good host, Nolan.” She hides her smirk behind a sip from her mug.
“What does that mean?” I dare to ask.
“We both know that couch of yours is too damn stiff for guests. Especially for pretty guests like your bartender girl.”
“Don’t go there, Gen,” I warn.
She ignores me and carries on. “Letting her share your bed would be the gentlemanly thing to do, Nolan.”
“Please stop,” I grumble. I’m so not having this conversation with my ex-wife’s mother.
Her silvery curls tumble down her back when she laughs heartily. “There you go, wasting those good Brighton genes as usual.”
“I have a daughter. I’d hardly say that I wasted my ‘good Brighton genes’.”
“You’re such a wonderful father. A man like you should have a whole bunch of daughters. And sons, too. A wife. A happy home. You deserve it.” She just shakes her head. “It’s a pity.”
“Yeah, a pity.”
Genevieve may be my ex-wife’s mother. But from the time it became obvious that Lilian had no desire to stick around and help raise her daughter, Gen has always encouraged me to move on with my life.
And I’ve moved on. I’m not holding my breath for a future with Lilian anymore. But that doesn’t mean I’m desperate to bring another woman into my life. And raising one child is hard enough. I simply can’t imagine any more responsibilities on my plate.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to even remember how Lilian and I even got together. We never had that much in common. I was a star hockey player who had a promising future, playing professionally. She was the whimsical hippie girl who intrigued me. We started out as two hormonal teenagers who liked to hook up and we just kept hooking up throughout the years.
Time and again, I tried getting a commitment out of her but she was always too flighty for that. For the most part, I just let Lilian be Lilian and enjoyed her when she was around.
Until she got pregnant with my daughter. And my whole outlook on life changed. I wanted marriage. I was willing to sacrifice everything to be a family.
But quickly, the sparkle of married life began to fade as the cold reality set in. I had to accept that nothing would tie Lilian down. She was in and out of town as she pleased, leaving me to care for an infant and figure it all out on my own.
My foolish dreams of happy-ever-after ended in divorce papers two years ago. The court awarded us joint custody and I dedicated my life to being the best father I could be. Meanwhile, Lilian stepped up to the plate. She seemed to view her parental obligations as more of a casual suggestion than an actual responsibility.
And that’s how we ended up where we are today.
Eager to change the subject, I glance around the small, colorfully-decorated trailer. I spot the faded vision board that’s still hanging on the wall above the tiny table, reminding me just how much the old woman does for me and Stella. The board is decorated with photos and cutouts of all the places Genevieve would like to visit. But year after year, she delays those traveling plans to help us out.
“So, when are you taking that trip to the Grand Canyon?” I ask, sipping the bitter tea.
She waves her arm, only throwing a cursory glance at the poster. “Oh, that’s just a pipe dream.”
“Taking a trip to the Grand Canyon is not a pipe dream. I know you’ve saved up enough money. You just have to go. Simple as that.”
The older woman shrugs.“It can wait.”
