Page 12 of All the Right Moves
“Now, Jenna, there’s no reason to bring the lord into it. I thought we could get an early start on getting you unpacked.”
I could argue, but I know it’ll just make her dig her heels in deeper.
And she wonders where I get it from.
Instead, I roll to the side of the bed and grab my crutches. I’m going to need some caffeine to tackle this.
“Where are you going?” She asks.
“To pee and then to get coffee,” I grumble.
By the time I get out of the bathroom, she’s already sitting at the small dining table with a coffee cup in front of her and another sitting in front of the empty chair.
I set my crutches against the wall and take a seat, propping my casted leg up on the chair next to me.
“Cream no sugar, right?” Momma asks, pushing the steaming mug toward me.
“You remembered,” I say.
“How could I forget? It’s the same way I used to drink it.”
“When did you start drinking it black?” I ask.
“After you were born. You were so full of energy and so wild that I didn’t have the time to doctor up my coffee, so I’d just guzzle it down black.”
“You’re telling me that you had three boys to start with, andIwas the wild one?”
She laughs. “Baby girl, your brothers were nothing compared to you. They would listen when I told them no. You, on the other hand, would look at me with this naughty grin and go right back to getting into trouble.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I joke. “I was a perfect angel.”
She throws her head back and lets out a loud cackle. “I’m pretty sure you gave me the majority of my grey hairs that I have to now cover up with color out of a box.”
I push my messy hair out of my face. “Yeah, that’s probably pretty accurate.”
We sit quietly for a few minutes while we enjoy our coffee.
I’m finally the first to speak. “So, aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” I fiddle with the handle on my mug instead of looking at her.
“Oh, I think I’m pretty well caught up. Jessie filled me in last night when he picked up Nora.”
“And?”
Her eyes look widely at me over the brim of her mug. “And what?”
“And you’re not going to lecture me?”
“About?”
“About having no future plans. About moving in with my boyfriend. About not telling you about any of it.”
She leans across the table and lays her hand on top of mine. “Jenna, I learned a long time ago that you’re going to tell me things if and when you’re ready. I know you like to think I’m this villain who pries into your life constantly, but you’re an adult, and I’m confident in the way I raised you to make your own decisions.”
“And when I make the wrong choices?” I ask.
“Then, I’ll be there to help you fix it.”
This conversation is going better than I thought it would. I think this might be the first time Momma and I have talked more as friends rather than just mother and daughter. Maybe this is why she has such great relationships with my brothers now—they’re all grown.