I love my girl. She's pesky and pushy and wormed her way into my heart. I didn't even know I could feel this way, and I'm still not entirely sure it's healthy. It's got to be a sickness, right? This constant need to touch her, to hear her voice, and to see her must be the result of some kind of fever that melted my brain. Best fucking thing that ever happened to me. Meeting my mom and brother are a close second, but my girl fucking takes it.
"If you're having second thoughts, don't bother jumping. I'll just push you off myself." Ma carefully navigates the rocks and climbs her way up to where I'm sitting. I turn toward her, my heart in my throat as she makes her way to me in those fucking heeled boots she has on. We're close to the cliff, and it's a steep drop. I'm not ready to bury another parent. If she goes overboard, I'm just gonna go ahead and throw myself over after her.
"Last thing on my mind," I say once she's settled beside me.
"So then what are you doing all the way out here when you're getting married in five minutes?"
"Thinking." She doesn't push my answer. That's the thing about my mom. She never pushes me to be somebody I'm not. Ever since the first day I met her, she's always just accepted who I am. If I'm a dick, she's cool with it. If I'm an unforgivable monster, she finds a way to justify it. She does the same with Ian, and she did the same with Dad. "I miss him."
Ma nods. She sniffles, but I don't look at her. My throat is closed up, and my hands are shaking again, but this time not from the cold. If I see my mother crying, I'm going to lose my shit.
"So do I, baby. Jim would've liked to see this. You in a button-up. Alex in a dress. He was so happy at Ian and Mindy's wedding. I know he's sad that he's not here."
"You talk about him like he's not dead," I say in a much harsher tone than I intend.
"Because for me, he's not dead. I know where his body is buried. I picked out the headstone, remember? But Jim's body was only part of him. Your dad's spirit? That hasn't gone anywhere."
"You're crazy, Ma. He's still dead."
Reaching over, she pats my knee and rests her head on my arm. She does this shit all the time--always hugging me and finding small ways to touch me as a means of giving me comfort without being too overt. I take it for granted, she does it so much. But right now it means the world to me. Dad patted my shoulder a lot. He'd squeeze the back of my neck in greeting, just so I'd know he was there. My head drops, and I squeeze my eyes shut. My throat constricts around what feels like a fucking golf ball. And of course, because it's my mother next to me, she has to cuddle closer and hum the same fucking tune she used to make us feel better when we were kids. Dad used to mimic her for fun, and he was terrible at it. He never could make it sound even half as good, but fuck, he tried. On the nights when Ian couldn't sleep and the terrors got to be too much, he'd scream. Those were the nights when I'd go and lie next to him in his bed until he calmed down. If he couldn't stop screaming, eventually Dad would make his way in there. And if all else failed, Mom would come in clutch.
Tears well in my eyes. Not a single one falls before Ma notices and decides to make it worse by telling me her favorite memory of us together. I was nine and called her "Mom" for the first time. It was intentional, she remembers that much, but doesn't remember everything else. Unlike her, I vividly remember every detail of that day. That was the day I finally got a mom.
Fuck.
I don't even try to hide the tears now. I've cried four times in my life that I can remember. Once was when my grandma died, the second when Mancuso cut up Cub's face, the third when my dad died, and then now. I didn't even cry a few weeks ago when we found out we're going to have a baby. I was just happy then. It's about fucking time I knocked her up--I've been playing fast and loose with the condoms for almost a year now.
"I think you're trying to kill me," I say when Ma finishes.
She laughs softly. "A mother's greatest joy is finding new ways to emotionally devastate her children."
"Then you must be the happiest fuck alive."
"Sometimes I am," she says. "Like now. You're officially late to your own wedding, punk."