Page 44 of Letting Go at 40

I check my watch. “Am I late?”

Logan and I made reservations for six o’clock at Driftwood, a popular restaurant in town. The three-hour commute from Traverse City to here was hell again. I really need to consider finding a local place so I’m not always crashing at Logan’s or Zack’s.

“Nah. I’m supposed to ask you if you’d like a drink.” Bryce rolls his eyes. With his blond hair and blue eyes, he looks so much like his father. Even his exasperated expression is a replica of Ben’s.

“Why the formality?”

“Fuck if I know,” he mutters.

As a father, Ben would admonish his teenage son for his language. As I’m the playful uncle, I don’t scold him.

“How are things?” I ask, following him into the kitchen. We had a long chat at Thanksgiving. As the middle child, he can sometimes feel left out. He told me how he understands that I have a life outside of their family, with Lynlee, but he felt abandoned when his dad died and then I left as well.

The admission hit me hard and I promised again to do better. Baseball season starts soon. Although Bryce’s first love is football, he plays baseball as well.

“I made Varsity. Calvin isn’t happy.” Bryce shrugs. He’s more athletic than Calvin, if there even is such a thing. “I also failed a chemistry test and Mom had a shitbrick.”

“I had a brick because you went out the night before and didn’t study.”

When I turn to Anna, my breath hitches. Every damn time. Even in jeans and a sweatshirt. As if I haven’t seen her over the years, changing as she had children, as she ages. She’s so beautiful.

Directing my gaze to the girl standing next to her, I give her the compliments I want to give her mother. “Mila. You look beautiful.” In a dress with a full skirt but Chuck’s on her feet, she’s a tomboy in feminine clothing. She tugs at the pile of fabric around her legs.

“Mom made me wear it.”

Anna turns to her. “You picked it out.”

Mila rolls her eyes, just like Bryce. Just like Ben. Her eyes are bright blue and friendly. She’s a combination of Mom and Dad, but as she grows up, her features are more Anna. The angle of her cheekbone. The shape of her eyes. The smile on her mouth.

“For you.” I hold out the corsage to Mila.

Anna nudges Mila, who rushes to the refrigerator. She produces a plastic container with a boutonniere inside. After I slip the corsage on Mila’s wrist, she awkwardly holds the simple flower for me up to my jacket.

“Let me.” Anna steps forward and takes the flower with two large pins in the wrapped stem from Mila. Curling my lapel in her hand, she fiddles with the flower and the pins.

“Don’t stick me,” I teasingly warn.

“I’d never hurt you.”

We look at one another at the same time and our gazes lock for a second. My throat thickens and I inhale the sweet perfume she wears. Summer and freshness.

“We need a picture,” Mila states.

Anna and I break away as if we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t.

Bryce holds up his phone and we take the obligatory photos before he says, “Mom, get in the picture with them.”

Anna nervously looks from me to Bryce and back.

“Come on, Mom,” Mila encourages, and I hold my breath as Anna walks toward us, slipping her arm around Mila’s shoulders. I drop my hand from Mila and place my hand on Anna’s lower back. The touch isn’t more than thirty seconds but instantly she feels familiar. Like a long-lost piece of me.

If only she felt that way in return.

I shake the thought and step back from both mother and daughter.

“Have fun,” Anna says, tugging Mila in for a hug. She looks up at me and another tense gaze passes between us. We haven’t spoken about her drunken texts.

Ignoring the tension, I reach out to Bryce, giving him a fist bump, and promise not to have Mila home too late, like it’s an actual date.