“I knew Roland was—wait, is it weird for you that I call him Roland?”
“Honey, as far as Roland is concerned, I gave up qualifying weird long ago. I’m so grateful to meet you; I don’t care if you call him that guy. Well, maybe not that …” She trails off into nervous laughter, so I wave it off and continue.
“Anyway, I knew he was the oldest, but I didn’t really think about how weird that must have been when he dropped out of college and came back here … you had high school students still. And he was all—”
“Belligerent.”
My eyes shoot to Nora, who doesn’t look an ounce hurt by my questioning.
She shrugs, and continues. “It was what it was. We gave him tough love, soft love, kicked him out, brought him back … all of it.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why keep bringing him back?”
She eyes me as if this is the weirdest thing she’s been through in a while. “He’s my son, Kennedy. Letting him go was just as loving as bringing him back as far as the times were concerned. Tim and I did what we felt was best in each circumstance. I think the bringing him back was harder, but that was more for us than him. We had to practice forgiveness and healing … I’m rambling,” she announces. “What I mean to say is, it was a period of learning and growth for the whole family that I wouldn’t change for anything.”
“How so?” I peel the staple out of the paper teabag, letting the leaves fall in a clump into the empty cup.
“We all had a lot to learn about God, and I guess that was the only way he felt he could get our attention.”
While Tim offered a pleasant, standard rendition of grace before dinner, I haven’t picked up an evangelical scent since I walked in the door. Roland did tell me his parents practiced like him, but it hasn’t felt weird in here. Of course, I take that to show the new normal that’s sunk into my brain since attending CU.
“Were you, like, church-y before all of this?”
Nora nods, slowly. “Sure. Christmas, Easter, and grace every single night. We’d say nightly prayers but I don’t think any of it sunk in. We were talking the talk, but only walking every few steps, or so. God called us to the carpet when he delivered a slumped over drunk of a son on our doorstep.”
Hearing her frank description of Roland is all at once hard to hear and a relief. It comforts me that she operates in reality and isn’t going to gloss over the story, even while she’s on her way to revealing God’s plan for her in all of it.
“Sorry,” she says as if she’s heard my thoughts. “I don’t know how much you—”
I hold up my hands. “Trust me, I know a lot. Maybe not everything, but I have listened to his sermons for a few years.”
“And your mother?”
I know what she means. “She never said anything bad about him unless I pushed. And, even then, it was more her hurt, I guess. She was always careful, though.”
It’s like I’m hearing it for the first time as I’m saying it. I had friends whose parents went through nasty divorces and there was so much mud slung, even the neighbors were in the splash zone. That was never the case with my mom and Roland. She loved me enough to keep the worst at bay unless she had no choice. But, it seems as though my stepdad’s words are coming back to me … she must have loved Roland enough to protect the truth about him she knew was in his heart somewhere.
“This has been too much,” Nora interrupts my thoughts again, seeming to sense I’ve slipped away. “Let’s have more cookies.”
“With any luck,” I reply, accepting another pair of delicious cookies, “I’ve inherited your slender genes.”
She laughs, and we toast our cookies mid-air before consuming them. We sit in cookie-filled silence for another half hour before Tim and Roland return, a bag of unnecessary groceries in Roland’s arms. Within another half hour, Tim and Nora turn in for the evening, and I’m washing the dishes I insisted Nora let me handle, since she spent all day keeping me well fed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Roland pretending to read the paper. I like that this family has just enough WASP in it to make me feel at home. Conversation starters between us are still awkward, but here in Nora’s home, I feel a surge of calm confidence. I slide a plate with the last three cookies on them in front of Roland, and then return to the sink to dry the last few dishes.
“There’s almond extract in them. Nora wants to know if they’re awful.” I slide the damp dishtowel through a drawer handle and sit across from Roland. He pushes the paper aside.
With half a mouthful, he gives his verdict. “Taste amazing to me.”
I nod, my eyes wide. “Right? That’s what I told her.”
“What’d you two talk about while I was gone?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I tease.
He grins. “Sorry for leaving you two alone.”
“No you’re not. But, it’s okay. I really like her, Roland. She’s just …”