Page 56 of The Fall
“What do you want?” she asked immediately.
“I don’t know.”
“Sure you do.” She winked, standing suddenly and leaning over to place a kiss on my forehead.
I looked up at my beautiful mom and could see how transparent my feelings were. “Thank you. I’m sorry for what I said…about you filling our heads full of crap.”
“I’ve always encouraged you to love with all your heart. That’s when it feels the best.”
“And the worst,” I added, getting out of my chair and grabbing our empty glasses.
“And the worst,” she agreed. “We’re having an engagement party for Rose and Grant on Sunday,” she said, opening the patio door for me.
“What do you think about that?” I asked, fearful of my mom’s response.
“I adore him. He came and asked for our permission last week. Wait until you meet him. You will know right away that he’s perfect for her. I know I’m pretty liberal when it comes to love, but I had my doubts until I met him. Be happy for her, Dallas. She’s had a horrible time in that department, as well.”
“I am, Mom. I swear. I’m just worried for her. I know how bad it can hurt when it goes downhill.”
“So does she,” my mom reminded me, turning off the kitchen lights as we stood at the foot of the stairs. “And she’s ready to give it another chance,” she said, raising her voice so I caught her drift.
“I’m with Josh,” I defended weakly.
“Cut him loose, Dallas,” my mom warned.
“So, I just dump my boyfriend of a year, who happens to be close to a saint and amazing to me, for a man who broke my heart and has been absent for the last seven years?”
“Do you want my permission?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to make your decision?”
“No, Mom, I get it.”
“Good, now stop whining. Get your ass upstairs and get in bed. Tomorrow morning I’ll make your favorite breakfast.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“You too, peanut.” She hugged me tightly.
“What if it’s the wrong choice?” I asked before she pulled away.
She stayed quiet for a long moment, and I wondered if she was going to answer me before she spoke. “It seems like we love so much more than the rest of the world, doesn’t it? So much harder, like we hurt more, feel deeper.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I said, confused.
“How hard is it to believe that he loved you as much as you loved him?”
“Very,” I said roughly.
“There you go,” she said before giving me a quick squeeze.
“What?” I said, shaking my head and heading up to my room. I reached the top of the stairs before I caught her cryptic teaching.
She was telling me I was selfish to think he’d suffered less than I had. Dean’s reaction to our breakup was his to have and that everyone loved and lost differently. I wasn’t the only one who might’ve had a hard time moving on. But mostly, she was trying to tell me that I was worthy of that type of love and not the only one capable of it. And maybe I was being a little selfish to think otherwise.
Touché, madre!