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Mom smiles, “That's a good sign."
“It doesn’t matter. She’s not from around here. Or is she? She doesn’t live in Atlanta, does she?”
“No.”
“Where did she fly in from?"
"Venice, California."
"Shit."
Mom grins mischievously, “It's not better than New York."
Mom was living in Manhattan when she made a trip to Atlanta to see her folks who had just moved back here, to Georgia. My other set of grandparents I rarely see because of the drama that happened between them. Something I didn't find out until I was an adult, and something I try not to think about whenever I go to the barbecues and see Grandpa and Grandma Cocker. Shoving that out of my mind I consider how Dad talked Mom into leaving New York. “But you fell in love when you were kids. You had history. It's different."
Mom sweeps her hand across their acreage. "I've never missed living in a city a day in my life."
I remind her, “You still travel pretty often."
Carefully, Mom informs me, “I haven't traveled in five years, Ben. And I used to do it every other year, remember? Mostly to other countries not to ‘big cities.’”
“I’m sorry. I should have known you stopped traveling. Are you no longer writing for…” Rubbing my face, I stop talking. “Dang it, I should have known.”
“Ben, you’ve been in your own private hell. That’s clear to me now. But we missed you. I can’t even explain how much.”
Needing to change the subject before I throw myself off a bridge, I look down and see a purple wildflower between us. Picking it, I stare a the color, thinking of her photograph. “There have been pretty guests before.”
Mom eyes me, gaze dropping to the flower in my hands. “There have.”
“She’s not just pretty. She’s probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It’s not just her looks, it’s inside. She has this glow. There’s something about her.”
Mom smiles. “Are you going to give her that flower?”
Fingering it for a couple more seconds, I shake my head, let it fall to the ground as I dryly smirk, “I’m sure her watching me drag my Ex out of here has been a major turn on.”
“Follow your good instincts. If something feels good, you must pursue it, especially now.”
“Why now?”
“You’re finally waking up. Time is never wasted unless we don’t do what we know we really want to, when it comes from a good place.”
“Have you ever been to Venice?"
"Only the one in Italy."
"We've both seen it in movies, though."
Glancing back to the house, she asks, “What are you going to do about Shelby?"
"She's heading to her moms now. Probably there already. We fought all morning. Got really ugly. What did she say to you?"
"She expounded on the merits of her being a good mom.” At my cocked head, Mom explains, “How much of a hard job it's been for her to cook and clean and drive Jonny to school."
I drag my hand down my face. "You've gotta be kidding me."
“I wish I were. It was extraordinarily difficult to not say that I knew she had been doing none of those things. We had company, you know. Willow has no reason to think Shelby was lying."
"She was lying!”
