“Youknow I have this deadline.”
Mycareer had become my crutch and I wasn't proud of it. But I couldn't deny thatthe timing had beenpretty convenient. Never mind thefact that I hadn'tactually doneanything to meet saiddeadline.
“Iknow, I know. I just miss you, I guess.”
“Oh,now you're just being ridiculous,” I snorted, even though I had missed her,too. Probably more than she missed me.
“Canyou take a break this weekend?”
“Well,this weekend is pretty tied up, but maybe next weekend. What are you offering?”
“Well,I thought we could head out East and go pumpkin picking. Maybe hit up the appleorchard, too. I'm in the mood to bake a pie.”
Recentevents in my life had been such a distraction I'd almost forgotten what time ofyear it was. Mid-September and the official start of Autumn for my family. Overthe next month or so, weekends would be filled with apple picking, baking,bonfires, and cider. There would be the tradition of hunting for new Halloweendecorations and at the end of October, my mom would throw her annual Halloweenparty. I wanted so badly to be more excited than I was.
“Yeah,”I uttered on my exhale. “I'll come out next Saturday and stay overnight.”
“Yougonnabring Brendan?”
Iswallowed at the bubbling nausea and shook my head. “Probably not.”
“It’sbeen a while since he stayed with us,” she commented, edging closer to gentleinterrogation.
“Yeah,I know, Mom.”
“Areyou guys okay?” she asked, going in for the kill.
“Idon't know,” I answered honestly, sinking a little further into mydisappointment and distress.
“Doyou want to talk about it?”
Partof me wondered if my mother genuinely cared when Brendan and I were in themiddle of one of ourthings, or if she just hoped this would be thetimewe finally called it quits for good.
“Notyet,” I said. “I'll talk to you this weekend. I just want to give it a littletime.”
“Well,you know I'm here.”
Thesentiment stung more than it should have, and tears welled in my eyes. I wantedto let go and tell her everything, spillingall ofmyemotions onto the floor and welcoming her advice. But it wasn't the right time,and I couldn't believe how much it hurt to feel so alone.
“Igottaget going, Mom,” I said in a hurry, choking onthe words.
“Kenny,are you okay?”
“Yeah,”I rushed, wiping at a tear as it fell. “I'm just overly stressed, I think. ButI need to get this book done, so I'll talk to you later, okay? And I'll see younext weekend.”
“Okay,”she replied hesitantly. “But let me know if you need anything.”
“Iwill.”
“Youknow I’ll get on the next train if you just say the word.”
“Iknow, Mom. I love you.”
“Loveyou, too, baby.”
Wehung up and I stuffed another cracker into my mouth before throwing on someclean clothes and grabbing my keys. Mrs. Potter stared at my hurry to get myshoes on and my hair up and out of my face.
“Weboth know I'm not getting any writing done right now,” I told her, securing mysloppy bun with a hair tie and a few bobby pins. “So, I'm going for a walk. I'llfeed you when I get back.”
