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“I can take care of the dishes,” I said after dinner was finished.
“I used to have to fight you to do those,” my mother said with a huge smile on her face.
I shrugged. “It’s still not my favorite, but I guess I can make the sacrifice for current company,” I said.
“Well, I’ll pack up dinner leftovers while you do the dishes,” she said.
“Deal,” I responded, feeling light.
Then, I went to the sink and washed the dishes and thought back to the countless times I had done this before. Begrudgingly back then, though I had always felt loved, safe, and protected.
“This water is way too hot, Mama,” I said after I plunged my hands in the scalding-hot water before I remembered I should never, ever do that if she had made the dishwater.
“Some things never change. You always say my water is too hot,” she said.
“Because it is. What temperature is your water heater set at?”
“Now, Kayla,” my mother said, looking at me with her eyebrows raised, “you know I don’t know, but I can’t stand tepid water.”
“There’s a difference between tepid and scalding, Mama, but if you like it, I love it,” I said.
She laughed, and we chatted about this and that as we cleaned up the kitchen.
“Wait here a minute,” she said once we were done.
“Okay,” I said, sitting at the table, feeling glad that I had come.
This visit didn’t change anything, not really, but it felt good to be with my parents, to pretend, at least for a little while, that everything was okay.
She came from the back of the house with a box in hand.
“What’s that?” I asked, frowning when she put the box in front of me.
“It’s nothing, really. I just saw these and thought of you,” she said.
I opened the box and teared up when I saw the black loafers. “You didn’t need to get me those, Mama,” I said when I was sure my voice wouldn’t give away my emotions.
“I know I didn’t, but I can always spoil my only baby,” she said before she started chattering about something else altogether.
But I wasn’t fooled.
My mother never said anything, but I knew she worried about me.
She’d cornered me once, years ago, and asked if I was doing drugs. I’d been confused, but she’d told me she knew how much pride I took in my appearance, and she’d started to notice I wasn’t keeping myself up.
I’d been simultaneously embarrassed and felt more loved than I ever had before. Then, I’d made up some lie about student loans and got her off the subject. She hadn’t mentioned it again, but I knew she hadn’t forgotten or let it go.
Giving me those shoes was her way of reminding that she—they—were there for me and always would be, even if she didn’t say the words.
My mother cleared her throat.
“You want to talk to your daddy?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yes ma’am,” I said.
“Well, Todd will be over here soon, so you’d better get to it if you don’t want to see him,” she responded. Then she gave me a hug. “And don’t wait so long to visit your mother again.”
I hugged her one last time and then grabbed the box and slipped out of the kitchen and onto the porch before I started to cry.
