She pulled back and had to stand on her toes, but she kissed my cheeks over and over again until I pushed her away. “Stop. I just saw you a couple of months ago.”
She wiped at her eyes. “Well, come on in. Your father will be happy to see you.”
She kept looking back over her shoulder like I’d disappear. It wasn’t like seeing me was a huge deal, it was the fact that I was home. California had always been their home—our home—but I had left as soon as I could, and I knew it hurt them that I hadn’t come back. My parents loved me and had wanted to spend the holidays with family but had accommodated me and my fears.
They knew I related California to my past. So, for me to stand there, despite what had happened, meant a lot.
“Look who the cat dragged in,” my mom announced.
My dad looked up from his chair in the living room where he was reading the paper and did a double take.
“Cal,” he said in wonder. Then he tossed the paper aside and came to wrap me in his arms. “Welcome home, Son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
My mom sniffed but shook it off. “Well, let’s not just stand here blubbering. What can I get you to drink?”
“Just a water, Mom.”
I was determined to not let my anxiety control me. So, water from there on out until I got my shit together and finally faced some demons.
Mom came back and sat on the couch, just smiling at me.
Thankfully, they had moved after everything had happened. The nightmares had been too intense to stay. While being in California was hard enough, I never wanted to test my strength of being in my old room.
“You know I’m so happy to have you here, but why now? I can’t help but feel like something’s brought you here,” my mom said.
I took a long drink of my water trying to ease my dry throat. “I, uh—I met someone.”
Her face lit up like she could already see the grandbabies in her mind.
“Calm down, Mom.” My hand rubbed the knot of tension at the back of my neck. “It’s complicated, to put it lightly.”
“Complicated, shmomplicated,” she said, waving her hand. “If you love her, you make it work.”3
“Which is why I’m here. We uh—” I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. What did I confess first? “She’s young. It made me very aware of the issues I was laying at her feet. I hated that I was putting that on her when she had her own things to deal with.”
“Oh, baby. You are not your past.” She’d said it to me as many times as she could squeeze in.
“I’m trying to realize that. That’s why I’m here. We broke up, and I kind of spun off the handles.”
“I thought you looked a little worse for wear.”
“Charles!” My mom gasped, slapping my dad’s leg.
He just shrugged. “The boy looks like he hasn’t slept in months.”
“Thanks, Dad. It’s actually only been a couple weeks.”
“So, explain the complicated,” my dad said, knowing it was a bigger issue than I was telling them.
“She’s young.”
“Legal?” he asked, eyebrow raised. My parents were understanding, but not that understanding.
“God, Dad. Yes.” I breathed out a laugh. “But just starting her life.” My parents sat there, giving me time to think, knowing there was more. I thought about what I wanted to say without giving anything away. “I’m possessive of her—jealous in a way I’ve never felt before, and when my jealousy sparks, I lose my mind. There’s no rational thought. There’s no reasoning. I lose myself in my mind and my issues, and I lose my temper. I’d lose it on her. Say things. Mean things, and I hated it.” It hurt even more to say out loud. “She’s too young to take on my issues.”
“Callum,” my mom said, admonishing me. “A woman can make her own decisions. A woman can walk away when she needs to.”
