“Rock bottom! He’s a ho, Mama, not an alcoholic! Land’s sake, he slept with my best friend! In my bed!”
That last part might have been a little loud, judging by the way the nurse walking by the open door snorted.
Mama patted my hand. “I know he did, baby, and that was an awful thing to do. All I’m saying is . . . occasionally good people make stupid mistakes.” Her eyes grew misty. “And honestly, lately I’ve been thinking a lot about all the mistakes I’ve made in my life. Sometimes it takes something really bad to put all the good in perspective.”
“Sweet Jesus,” I said, staring at her. “He’s put a spell on you.”
She waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Nobody’s put a spell on me. I’m too thick-headed for it to work.” She sighed, toying with the glasses on a chain around her neck. “But after sixty-four years on this earth, I know when a man’s lying, and I know when a man’s telling the truth. And when Trace said he still loved you and would do anything to get you back, he was telling the truth.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You saw how devastated I was after we broke up. You remember how much weight I lost and how I cried every day and how I couldn’t get out of bed for weeks, right?”
“I remember,” she said quietly. “But I also know you haven’t even looked at another man since him. Which makes me think all those feelings you had for him might still be there.”
Something awful occurred to me. “Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t tell him that.”
She pulled a face, like, Oops.
I shot up from my chair and stared down at her. “Mama! You didn’t!”
She leveled me with her own version of The Look. “Don’t you raise your voice to me, young lady. I am not gonna leave this earth without seeing you settled, you hear?”
“You’re not going anywhere!” I said, horrified she was talking about dying.
She ignored my interruption. “And I’m gonna tell you something else—your own daddy wasn’t the saint you think he was. Before we were married that man chased every skirt he saw, and when I found out, I left him flat as a penny run over by a freight train. But he begged me to forgive him, and I’m glad I did because we were happily married for more than thirty years and he gave me the best gift I’ve ever gotten—you.”
I stared at her with my mouth hanging open.
She continued. “Men aren’t like us, baby. They’re dumb as doughnut holes when it comes to love. But once they decide to commit—not say they’re committing, but deep in their heart actually make the commitment—they never waver. Your father didn’t waver for thirty years, even when his own parents cut him off without a cent because he married me. He didn’t waver when we found out I couldn’t have any more babies, even though he wanted a big family. He didn’t waver through good times or bad, sickness or health, for all the years after he took a vow to love and cherish me. In the end the only thing powerful enough to put us apart was death.”
Her voice grew quiet. “And sometimes I’m not sure that did it, either. I can still feel him when I’m low. Every once in a while I smell his cologne, even when I’m in a room all by myself. Just this morning I rolled over in bed and felt a hand on my forehead, but when I opened my eyes there was no one there. I don’t know what that means, but I do know this. If your father, God rest his soul, could turn out to be the honest man and true friend and loyal husband he was for all those years, chère, there’s hope for anyone. Even a scallywag like Trace.”
Rattled to my core, knees shaking, I sank back into my chair. I whispered, “You never told me any of that before.”
She smiled and leaned over and brushed a lock of hair off my cheek. “I’ve never been dying before.”
“You’re not dying,” I insisted, gripping her hand.
“We’re all dying, baby. It’s just a matter of when.” She lifted my hand and pressed it to her lips. “I’ve had a wonderful life. Maybe better than I deserve. I’m not afraid to go, so don’t you be afraid, either.”
I teared up, hard. “How can you not be afraid? I’m so afraid for you.”
This time her smile was truly beautiful. “Because your daddy’s waiting for me on the other side, baby,” she said gently. “Finally we’ll be together again. Being afraid of that would just be plain stupid.”
My lip quavered. My throat closed.
Then I burst into tears.
“Oh, come on now, chère,” she said, opening her arms. I buried my face into her chest and cried. She patted me on the back and kissed the top of my head, chuckling softly. “You always were such a sentimental little thing. Crying over dead goldfish and those Morris the Cat commercials where he’s lost and his owner’s looking for him in the rain.”