“That’s notentirelyhow it happened,” is all I can respond with.
“We’re listening,” Hudson replies, pulling up a barstool as Dane curiously peruses my living room, looking at the bare essentials of decor and the very few photos I have placed out around the room.
I relent and share the details of meeting Mimi, telling them how she stood up for me the first day when I was totally by myself and honestly, a bit nervous about being there. I tell them about that stupid spin the bottle game—leaving out the tidbit of my premature ejaculation mishap. I shared with them the details of all the nights after the day camp events, when Mimi and I would sneak out and meet up by the lake. Every single night.
“Then the last night there, we had sex. It was perfect. One of the happiest nights I’ve ever had. Afterward we saw some of the camp leaders walking to my cabin, and we panicked. She was finishing getting dressed and told me to get back so I wouldn’t get in trouble, so I raced back to my cabin. That’s when they told me about the accident and pulled me out of camp right then and there to go see my mom.” My eyes meet Hudson’s and I see his face fall when he understands the timing of all of this.
“Did you ever see her again after that?” he asks, his eyes telling me he already knows the answer.
I shake my head.
“As you know, by the time I got to the hospital, she had already passed.” I pause. The overwhelming feeling of resentment and guilt for not being there for her has always weighed heavily on me. Over the years it’s gotten better, or shall I say easier to accept, but finally admitting all of this to Hudson is cracking open some old wounds.
“There was so much confusion and chaos, it took a few days to get my head on straight. Once I did, I looked up the phone number to the camp and tried to get in touch with her, but camp was over for the summer.” I later came to find out, the camp just stopped all its operations after that summer.
“I never asked her last name, never got her phone number, didn’t even know what city she lived in.” I take a long pull of my beer, remembering how defeated I felt all those years ago. How my heart ached for the loss of my mom—my biggest supporter, my biggest cheerleader in life—coinciding with the pain I felt realizing I was probably never going to see Mimi again, either.
I was broken. My soul was shattered.
Life conquered me in a matter of minutes. Stealing away the one person who cared for me unconditionally, while teasing me with the idea of another. Leaving me with the knowledge that she was out there, and I couldn't have her.
Hudson eyes me with caution. Because he knows me well enough to know the loss of my mother broke me, but now knowing this happened on top of it, his tightlipped smile says it all as he remains quiet. He doesn’t apologize, because he knows I don’t want pity. I never want pity.
I probably should have told him all those years ago, but I felt like if I hid it away, then I wouldn’t have to admit that it was real. I could just pretend that it was all just a dream.
It was easier to accept.
“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance back into someone's life.” He chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood. “How did she handle seeing you here for the first time?”
“Not exactly good,” I squeak out. My lips lift in a half smile as I recall the look on her face when she saw me at Afterburn, and how she kicked me in the balls.
“Does she know?”
I shake my head. “No, she thinks I left her half naked gettingdressed by a lake after I took her virginity, and just opted to never return.”
“Hm.” He nods, heavily and very slowly. “Looks like you got your work cut out for you, brother.”
“I know,” I agree with him. I have to open up to her and share things that I’ve emotionally locked away, and I’m totally unsure where to even start with all of that.
I glance around the room confused, because Dane is nowhere to be seen.
“Where did Dane go?” I ask, not surprised that he got sidetracked.
“Shay, did you paint these?!” His voice clamors from upstairs.
From myprivatespace.
My eyes widen as I turn to Hudson. “What the hell is he doing up there?”
Taking the stairs two at a time, with Hudson trailing behind me, I land at the top seeing him inspecting a few of my canvases.
Goddammit.
I palm my face as I walk toward him.
Another thing I haven’t shared with anyone. The only one who remotely has any idea that I paint is Hudson, but he’s never actually seen any of them.
“These are so good, Shay. Have you ever thought about selling them?” Dane asks, as he cocks his head sideways, appraising the one I just finished.
