“Because I hate cleaning my room. So if I marry a prince who cleans, he can clean up all of my messes.”
“I like the way you think.” Lennon pulls a soapy hand out of the water and Nova high fives her, sending suds everywhere.
Both girls giggle, and I find myself smiling along with them.
Wrapping her hand in a towel, Lennon reaches out and wipes bubbles off of Nova’s face. The way she does it, so gentle and caring, must catch Nova’s attention because her giggle fades into a hesitant yet hopeful smile.
“I’ve never seen that look on Nova’s face before,” I whisper to my mom.
“That’s the look you used to give me.” She taps my arm, and I follow her into the living room.
My mother sits down on the couch, dragging me along with her, and stares at me with that knowing look—the one she’s perfected over the years.
“What?”
“Don’t what me. You know what,” Mom says.
Here we go.
I lean back and look at my mom, silently waiting for her to get on with it.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Diane,” Dad scolds from the recliner as he flips through channels, landing on ESPN.
“What?” Mom holds out her hands. “Don’t I have a right to know if my son has a girlfriend?”
“Your son is a grown man. Let him live his life, and ease up. He’ll tell you when he’s good and ready.”
As much as I appreciate my dad trying to give me an out, I know she won’t go for it, and the easiest thing to do is give her what she wants.
“I don’t know, Mom.” I shrug. “I guess.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“We haven’t exactly put a label on our relationship.”
“Is this one of those ‘Netflix and chill’ things I always hear about?” Her hand shoots over to my arm. “Oh my gosh, did we interrupt you? Were you having relations when we came in?”
Dad groans, running a frustrated hand over his face. “Diane…”
I grimace. “First off, don’t ever say relations again. Second, where did you hear about Netflix and chill?”
“Facebook.”
“You need to get off Facebook, Mom.”
“We’re getting off subject,” she says. “I want to know about you and Lennon.”
“How about we change the subject?”
Mom holds her hands up in surrender. “Fine. But let me just say this. You’ve put your life on hold to raise that beautiful little girl in there, and you’ve done a fine job of it. Your father and I are so proud of you. But you deserve to be happy, too.”
“I am happy,” I stress.
Mom shakes her head. “I know you are, but you deserve a different kind of happiness. You deserve to be in love. Don’t think I didn’t notice the stolen glances between you two at the breakfast table. And Noah, the way you smiled at Lennon earlier… I haven’t seen you smile like that in a long time. If you have feelings for her like I think you do, you owe it to yourself to label that relationship. It’s time, Noah.”
Sometimes my mom just gets me, knows what I need to hear and when I need to hear it.