Diem crinkles up her nose. “Am I supposed to give my mother flowers?” She’s really been working through the whole family tree lately, and it’s cute, but also concerning. She’s eventually going to find out her family tree was once struck by lightning.
Patrick finally chimes in. “We gave your nana her flowers last night, remember?”
Diem shakes her head. “No. I’m talking about my mother that isn’t here. The one with the tiny car. Are we supposed to give her flowers?”
Patrick and I trade another glance. I’m sure he’s mistaking the pain on my face for discomfort at Diem’s question. I kiss Diem on the forehead just as Grace returns to the car. “Your mother will get flowers,” I say to Diem. “Love you. Tell your grandma Landry I said hello.”
Diem smiles and pats my cheek with her tiny hand. “Happy Mother’s Day, Ledger.”
I back away from the car and tell them to have a safe trip. But as they’re driving away, I feel my heart grow heavier as Diem’s words sink in.
She’s starting to wonder about her mother. She’s starting to worry. And even though Patrick assumed I was just reassuring her by saying Diem’s mother would get flowers, I was actually making her a promise. One I won’t break.
The idea of Kenna going through the entire day today without her motherhood being acknowledged by anyone makes me angry at this whole situation.
I sometimes want to place that blame directly on Patrick and Grace, but that’s not fair either. They’re just doing what they need to do to survive.
It is what it is. A fucked-up situation, with no evil people to blame. We’re all just a bunch of sad people doing what we have to do to make it until tomorrow. Some of us sadder than others. Some of us more willing to forgive than others.
Grudges are heavy, but for the people hurting the most, I suppose forgiveness is even heavier.
I pull up to Kenna’s apartment a few hours later and am halfway to the stairs when I spot her out back. She’s cleaning off the table I lent her when she notices me. Her eyes fall to the flowers in my hand, and she stiffens. I walk closer to her, but she’s still staring at the flowers. I hand them to her. “Happy Mother’s Day.” I’ve already put the flowers in a vase because I wasn’t sure if she even had one.
Based on the look on her face, I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have bought her flowers. Maybe celebrating Mother’s Day before she’s even met her child is uncomfortable. I don’t know, but I feel like I should have put more thought into this moment.
She takes them from me with hesitation, like she’s never been given a gift before. Then she looks at me, and very quietly, she says, “Thank you.” She means it. The way her eyes tear up immediately convinces me bringing them was the right move.
“How was the lunch?”
She smiles. “It was fun. We had fun.” She nudges her head up to her apartment. “You want to come up?”
I follow her upstairs, and once we’re inside her apartment, she tops off the vase with a little more water and sets it on her counter. She’s adjusting the flowers when she says, “What are you doing today?”
I want to say, “Whatever you’re doing,” but I don’t know where her head is at after last night. Sometimes things seem good and perfect in the moment, but when you get hours of reflection afterward, the perfection can morph into something else. “I’m heading out to the new house to get some work done on the floors. Patrick and Grace took Diem to his mother’s, so they’ll be gone until tomorrow.”
Kenna is wearing a pink button-up shirt that looks new, and it’s topped over a long, white, flowy skirt. I’ve never seen her in anything other than a T-shirt and jeans, but this shirt reveals the tiniest hint of her cleavage. I’m trying so hard not to look, but holy fuck, it’s a struggle. We both stand in silence for a beat. Then I say, “You want to come with me?”
She eyes me cautiously. “Do you want me to?”
I realize the hesitation pouring from her may not be because of her own feelings of regret, but rather her fears that I have regrets.
“Of course I do.” The conviction in my response makes her smile, and her smile breaks down whatever was keeping us separated. I pull her to me and kiss her. She immediately seems at ease once my mouth is on hers.
I hate that I even made her doubt herself for one second. I should have kissed her as soon as I handed her the flowers downstairs.
“Can we get snow cones on the way there?” she asks.
I nod.
“Do you have your punch card?” she teases.