Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
By the time we’re a few weeks into the trip, I finally realize she isn’t going to ditch me just because I’d rather eat pasta than share salmon with her. It’s a good revelation to come to because if I have to stuff another bite of bland fish into my mouth, I’m going to barf. After that, the trip really settles into place. We spend long evenings chatting at small cafes, people watching in between our conversations. Sometimes we talk about the past, a little at a time, until one evening, after a few glasses of wine, I work up the courage to ask her if she ever regretted leaving us.
She frowns, seemingly confused by the question. “I never thought of it like that, like I was leaving you.”
I laugh awkwardly. “Well…you did.”
Her shoulders droop as she tilts her head, her light brown eyes studying me sadly. “I gave you and your sister a choice. I wanted you to come with me.”
I shake my head. I don’t remember that.
“Obviously your father and I couldn’t stay together after I had the affair with Jorge. I moved out of the house and asked you if you wanted to come with me.”
“Yeah, once.”
And I obviously turned her down. In those early days, Ellie and I resented her for tearing our family apart.
“No. I asked you over and over again if you were sure you wanted to live with your father. You and Ellie insisted, so I lived with Jorge in Austin for two years, hoping the two of you would come around once you were ready to talk.”
“I don’t remember this,” I say on a weak whisper.
She sighs and glances away. “You were young.”
“I thought you left us and went straight into the Peace Corps.”
“No, we didn’t leave until you were in high school.”
“What?!”
How has time twisted so much of my memory? I always remember her leaving when I was younger, or maybe I just assumed she did.
I always think back on that time in my life with resentment. I carried a bitterness about the fact that she could pick up and leave us so quickly. She tells me she wanted to take me along with her during her first Peace Corps assignment, but my father thought it would be better for Ellie and me to stay in Austin and finish school the normal way.
I’m shocked into silence, my brain working overtime to try to reconcile my memories with reality. I decide to push a little further and ask if she ever resented us, if maybe she would have preferred a life with no children. At that, she reaches across the table for my hands and squeezes them tightly, imploring me to listen to her.
“I love you and Ellie so much. I wanted you from the very first moment I found out I was pregnant.” She leans forward and levels her gaze with me to ensure that I’m listening. “Do you hear me?”
My throat is too tight to speak, so I nod.
“My affair with Jorge was terrible and I regret hurting you and your father, but you have to know it had nothing to do with you or Ellie.” She smiles and quickly wipes the tear rolling down her cheek. “I love being your mom, and I know there are times where I’ve really sucked at it. I’m still learning, but I want you to know that you’ve always been first in my heart. Always.”
It’s the longest, most exhausting night of my life. The conversation ends with me crying against her shoulder, accepting her apologies and promising to leave the past in the past. When we leave the restaurant with her arm slung around my shoulder, it really feels like we’re turning over a new leaf.
The last week of our trip, Ellie flies over to join us. We spread those seven days out along the Amalfi Coast, lounging on the beach and eating enough pasta that we all have to casually unzip our jeans beneath the table. It’s a healing and bonding trip, one that will undoubtedly change everything that comes after it.
I return to Spain invigorated and ready to jump back into work. It’s been almost a year and a half since I first left Austin, and I’ve never felt more in control of my life and destiny. I have goals for the next few months. Fall is upon us, and I remember how nice it was this time last year. Luciana, Olive, and I sit up in my room, mapping out new destinations around the city. I don’t let them use Google Maps to figure out how to get around—sometimes, all we take is a handful of jotted notes, a compass, and a sense of adventure. The weather has already turned too cold for the beaches, but that won’t stop us from taking our bikes out nearly every day. I want to take in more of the architecture and Olive agrees, but Luciana would rather eat her way through the city one deep fried pastry at a time. I’m willing to oblige them both.