Page 81 of Love Me

“Da—”

“That sounds perfect,” my mother answers. “I wanted to have some time with my girls, too.” She loops her arms around mine and Avery’s.

Smiling, Diego winks at me like it’s no big deal.

The look he gives me speaks to his confidence. Not for the first time, I wish I had as much confidence in this situation as he did. Not that I don’t trust him. It’s myself I can’t fully bring myself to trust.

As I’m guided by my mother to the living room with my sister on her other arm, I’m reminded even more of where I came from. The truth hits me like a ton of bricks. This is why I keep my distance from my parents, especially from my mom. Even though I yearn to be closer to her, I can only be around her for a certain amount of time before the questions start coming to mind.

There’s so much I want to ask her and know about her perspective on how my life began. Doing that would only bring up too much pain for her. It would likely unravel the carefully crafted bandages she’s placed over those wounds.

Therefore, I keep my distance so that I don’t accidentally blurt out the truth.

“Look what I came across this past week,” my mother says, holding up a gold photo album book.

“What’s that?” Avery asks, sounding only half-interested. Her phone is already out in her hand.

My mother quickly snatches her phone and shushes Avery’s whining.

“This is what us old folks call a photo album,” she replies.

“Mom, you’re not old,” I tell her.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Besides, you’re like a fine wine,” Avery says, grinning.

I narrow my eyes on her. “What do you know about wine?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs, but I side-eye her.

“You better not,” my mom adds.

Avery lets out a frustrated groan. “I meant it as a compliment. Sheesh. I heard Daddy say it to you a couple of weeks ago. He said you’re like a fine wine. You’re just getting better with time.”

My mom and I look at one another and burst into laughter. That’s exactly something my father would say to my mom. Given the reddening of her cheeks, I know that Avery overheard him correctly.

“Thanks, hun.” My mom kisses Avery on the cheek. “Just make sure you’re not going around repeating everything you overhear your father say.”

I stifle a laugh with my hand.

“Anyway, I got lost looking over these photos. Some of them I hadn’t looked at in years. So many great memories came flooding back. I wanted to see if you girls remembered any of these. Hush!” my mom scolds Avery when she moans again.

Though she’s playing the role of the grumpy teen who’d rather mope in her room than spend time with her parents, Avery curls up close to our mom and places her chin on her shoulder.

The picture they make reminds me of the times I used to do that when I was a kid. Back when it was just me and my mom. The first nine years of my life it was just the two of us. When my dad came along, I pretty much loved him from the beginning.

He never once made me feel like I was in the way of his and my mom’s relationship.

He treated me like his own. I’ve been his “Short Stuff” from the very beginning.

“What’s that smile about?” my mom asks, looking over at me.

“Just remembering when you and Daddy met.”

Her face softens that way it does whenever my dad is brought up.

“He was so good with you. I would’ve never tolerated anyone who wasn’t,” she tells me, looking me directly in the eye.