He’s been looking for any excuse he can get to drop by my house. I don’t want to encourage him in any way that will give him false hope about me being interested in him.
After Megs leaves, I walk to the window and duck my head out just as Josh’s laughter drifts toward me. He’s on their lawn, tossing a football with Nick. When Nick manages to catch it, he whoops and giggles.
Josh glances up as if sensing me, and waves. “Want to join us?” The sun rays bounce off his perfectly styled hair.
I shake my head. “Maybe another day. You two have fun.” His shoulders slump forward in disappointment. “I need a favor, though.”
He grins wide and winks. “Anything for you, darlin’.” I roll my eyes at his blatant flirting and press my lips together, fighting a smile. He crouches down to be eye level with Nick. They talk for a few moments, and then his little brother nods, turns and takes off toward the front door.
“You didn’t need to send him away.”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “I just wanted to make sure you had my full attention.”
I laugh. “Stop flirting, Josh.” He shrugs again and slants his head to the side. “I’m thinking about. . .can you teach me how to sign, just a few words?”
I swear his shoulders slump down a bit and disappointment flashes across his face before it vanishes. It’s replaced by a smile. “Sure.”
“Perfect. Tomorrow at eleven o’clock?”
He nods just as a black pick-up truck with blaring music drives up the street and stops in front of his house. He turns around and waves at whoever is sitting behind the tinted windows before facing me again.
“Awesome. Can’t wait to start our lessons.” He winks again.
“Seriously, stop doing that.”
“You love it when I flirt with you.” He laughs, walking backwards. “Rule number one in ASL: Eyes and facial expressions are important. Your eyes and that sweet blush on your cheeks say a lot. You’re enjoying my flirting.”
I laugh, shaking my head. I kind of do, because I know it’s harmless flirting. Besides, I’ve already set my sights on someone else. “You’re incorrigible.”
A tall woman with blonde, wavy hair steps out of the driver’s seat and calls his name. Josh spins around and stalks over to her, scoops her off the ground and kisses her, pinning her to the car.
Another guy with dark hair steps out, interrupting the kissing session. After the one-armed hug and a round of back-thumping with their fists, they get inside the car. The driver does a U-turn, missing the Walker’s mailbox by barely an inch, before racing down the street and out of sight in all its music-blaring glory.
I leave my room and head to my mother’s to check on her. She sits in a rocking chair humming along to Yiruma’s River Flows in You that’s playing from the CD player on the desk next to the window. Her eyes focus on me as soon as I block her view of the garden. A soft smile stretches across her face.
“You remind me of your grandmother, honey. The freckles on your nose, the way you tilt your head to the side.”
And you remind me of my mother, the woman I looked up to when I was a child.
I wish I could tell her that, but I know the aftermath would be catastrophic. The last time I said something like that to her. She had fallen deeper into despair, shutting everyone out. My dad refused to take her to see the doctor. When he eventually did, she got medication and started therapy to help her through the depression that had started, I suspect, long before we were born.
So instead, I say, “Grandma Phoebe asked about you when I spoke to her on the phone earlier today. Want to pay her a visit with me?”
Her smile fades. She sits up and starts fretting with her hair. “Do you think I look okay?”
I grab her hands and twine her fingers with mine. “You look perfect. Just a little lipstick and voila!” I beam at her.
Her nervous movements stop. She stares at me, tears in her eyes. Her gaze drops to my wrists, “I’m—you don’t deserve this. You’ve been so strong and here I am—”
“Mom.” She shakes her head furiously, tears brimming in her eyes. “Mom. Just focus on getting well, okay?”
Finally, the tears fall. She sobs soundlessly. Tears of the horrors she has probably gone through living under my dad’s iron hand. Unaccomplished dreams. Missed opportunities with her daughters.
After she calms down, we sit there holding hands and I tell her about Cole. There is not much to tell though. By the time I leave her room, she has already retreated into her shell. I’m not even sure she heard anything I said.
“I love you, Mom,” I whisper and kiss her cheek before leaving the room and walking out the front door.