She continued, her voice softer this time. “You need to move on and live your life.”
I stood frozen to the ground, my stomach heavy with emotion-filled rocks. Did she think I didn’t know that he was gone? I lived it; every single day, I lived it. I figured she, of all people, would understand the pain of someone walking out on you. Tears stung my eyes.
“Um, I’m gonna go lay down. I don’t feel so good. Can you keep an eye on the girls for me?” I spat out, hurrying to leave the kitchen before she could answer.
“Kacie, please don’t go!” she called out after me, but I didn’t turn back. I was already halfway down the hall leading to our apartment and right then, all I wanted was to be alone. I heard her call my name one more time as I threw myself down on my bed and cried a deep, therapeutic cry into my pillow before falling asleep.
After tossing my duffel bag on the floorboard of my black Ford F250 Super Duty pickup truck, I stepped back so my black lab, Diesel, could hop up on the passenger seat. I turned to face my mom who was standing behind me with her arms crossed over her chest, tapping her foot nervously. I couldn’t help but grin at her.
“Mom, I’ll be fine,” I told her for what felt like the millionth time that morning.
“It’s a long drive, Brody, and the weather is going to get really bad. Can’t you leave your truck here for a couple days and take a quick flight home?” Her eyes pleaded with me not to drive back to Minneapolis today.
“First of all, it’s a 3-hour drive, not that long. Second, if the weather is that bad, I wouldn’t get a flight out today anyway. And third, I have a ton of shi-” I stopped myself as she raised her eyebrow at me, “stuff to do at home. I’ll be fine. And before you ask again—no, I won’t leave my truck here.” I walked over and picked her up off the ground in a bear hug.
“Please call me every 5 minutes.” She muffled into my shoulder, the worry evident in her voice.
“No problem. I won’t be able to see through the downpours anyway, so taking my eyes off the road to keep calling you shouldn’t be a problem.”
She squirmed out of my arms. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she punched my arm as hard as she could.
“Not funny, Brody Michael.”
It’s amazing how even at twenty-seven years old, when your mom says your middle name it reduces you to feeling like an eleven-year-old kid who just broke the living room window with a baseball. Or in my case, a hockey puck.
Bending my knees, I lowered myself to her level and put my hands on her shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes.
“I. Will. Be. Fine. Please stop worrying.”
“When you have kids one day, Brody, you’ll get it. They may grow up and leave your house, but they never leave your heart. You never stop worrying.” She sighed, narrowing her eyes at me. “And when your son is Brody Murphy, you tend to worry more than most.”
“Ha! Thanks for the confidence, Mom. Seriously though, I’m good. The meteorologists were saying this morning we might not get as much rain as they were originally thinking anyway.” “Yeah, well the meteorologists are idiots. It’s already started south of here, and a lot of it.” She wrapped her arms around herself, and her hair practically turned gray right in front of me.
“I’ll just drive really fast through it. No problem. The longer I stand here, the longer it’s going to take me to get home.” I winked at her and hopped up into my truck as she returned a death stare. I’d already said goodbye to the whole family inside, but somehow I knew she’d follow me out, begging me one last time to stay, and I loved her for it. The engine roared to life as I started my truck and quickly pulled out of the driveway before she decided to throw herself on the hood. I rolled my window down and gave her one last wave on my way down the street.
“Okay, a big cup of coffee and we’re good to go,” I said out loud to myself as I pulled into the Dunkin’ Donuts. I reached over to the radio and flipped it to the AM station to get a weather update. Mom would never know, but I was a little nervous. They were calling for one of the worst strings of storms we’d seen in a long time and I really did want to beat it home. I meant to leave a couple hours ago, but she insisted on feeding me first and who was I to turn down my mom’s biscuits and gravy and bacon? The clock read 11:30.
Shit, I gotta get moving.
About an hour and a half later, I was tempted to call home and tell her what every mom wants to hear from her child.