When she awoke on New Year’s Day, she was confused. She was lying on her side and as soon as she opened her eyes, her temples began throbbing. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut as she rolled over onto her back.
“Oh, I drank too much wine . . . ” she groaned softly. “Why did I do that?”
As she lay there with her eyes closed, he said, “You can blame me.”
They never went to the party that New Year’s Eve.
“Better late than never” he had toasted. As she gazed expectantly into his soft brown eyes, she found no answers to all of the questions running through her mind. Rather, she was met with the same bemused expression with which she was so familiar: The look that gave way to more questions, but seemed never to yield any answers. Perhaps tonight would be different, the start of a new chapter in their lives.
She was almost dressed for the party when she heard the knock on her apartment door. She would have ignored it, but figured it was her neighbor who had also invited her to a party that evening.
“He must have forgotten something,” she mumbled to herself as she shuffled to the front door, attempting to zip up her dress at the same time.
“Hey, perfect timing! Can you zip me up?” she yelled lightly as she threw the door open.
“Sure, I can do that,” was the response — but not from her neighbor.
It seemed as though they had been sitting in the car for hours. The weight of the topic, her son’s expectations, and her responsibilities bore down on her, making her feel as though she could not breathe and tempting her to simply open the car door and run as far and fast as she could in any direction so long as her feet carried her away from everyone and everything familiar to her.
Finally, she took a deep breath and turned to face her son’s insistent gaze.
“Earth to Mom, earth to Mom . . . ” He waved his hand in front of her face in an effort to get her attention.
“What, honey?” she asked as if in a daze, finally turning her attention back to him.
“Don’t you think we should get going? We’re going to be late,” he replied. “We promised Grandma that we would be there by 7:00.”
“What time is it?” She suddenly realized that she was completely disoriented, and struggled to focus on her son and his words.
“I was worried about you last night.” Her only child was a typical first-born: Responsible, organized, forthright. She was genuinely sorry that she had concerned him.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said as she gave him a good morning hug. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just went for some coffee and lost track of time.”
“Next time, answer your cell phone,” he chided her. “What’s the house rule?”
“I know, I know . . . ” He was not making this easy for her.
“If you’re out of the house, your phone should be on and you need to answer it when you see that the call is from ‘home.'” His mocking impression of her was flawless — and stung a bit.
“O.K., I get the point, buddy,” she sighed, again hugging his broad shoulders as she stroked his stubbled cheek with the palm of her hand. “How did you get so big so fast?”
“Don’t change the subject, young lady,” he teased.
“That’s it. I’m getting in the shower,” she announced as she poured herself another cup of coffee before striding toward the bathroom.
“All right,” he laughed. “I’m going to school. See ya later!” As he ran out the door, he added, “Love ya, Mom!”