| |
Whit sat on the edge of his childhood bed, a packed suitcase by his feet. His trophies from long ago swim meets lined the shelves. He wondered if this room would always look this way, if, when he was middle-aged, his mom would still keep his room a shrine to his teenage years. He looked up when he heard her footsteps in the hall.
Sofia carried Hester in her arms, and the cat lifted a paw at him, like she was waving goodbye.
“Am I going to see Andie tomorrow?” Whit asked as Sofia passed by.
Sofia stopped and her expression shifted to a blank neutral. “How should I know?”
“Oh, I think you know.”
She had the grace to blush. “I like her.”
“You know she’s already feeling manipulated. You know she doesn’t trust me.”
Sofia leaned against the door frame. “Then don’t go. Cancel your trip. Stay home.”
Whit raised his eyebrows. “Is that why you set this up? So that I would stay at home? Mom!”
Sofia sighed and rolled her eyes as if his frustration bored her.
“When are you going to stop trying to micromanage my life?”
She pulled away from the doorjamb, and came to sit beside him. “Never. I’m your mom. Micromanaging and meddling are both M words, like mom. They are synonymous.” She set the cat down and patted his knee. “You will never understand how I feel until you have children of your own. Why do you think I’m so anxious for you to marry and produce my grandchildren?”
Whit hung his head. “You’re not helping. You think you are, but you’re not.”
She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and squeezed him tight. She smelled of Chanel 5, a scent he always associated with her dress up clothes. He liked her best when she wore her gardening things and smelled of the earth and leaves.
“What is she going to say when I get on the plane? Are our seats together?”
When Sofia didn’t answer, Whit bit back the profanity running through his head.
Sofia stood, walked to his laptop and flipped it on. “I want to show you something.” She logged on.
Whit’s mouth hung open. “How did you do that? It’s password protected.”
“Oh, darling, please. You’ve had the same password since you were twelve.”
“No, I haven’t...have I?”
She snorted a small laugh while she settled down at his desk and pulled up a photography website. Worried it was Andie’s blog, he bounced up. He couldn’t let Andie know, or think, that his mom was stalking her. But it wasn’t Andie’s blog on the screen. It was the photographer who had shot Grayson’s wedding. Screen after screen of Grayson and Kayla, both smiling, laughing and looking dreamy-eyed in every single shot.
Sofia looked up at him, placed her hand on his chest and patted his heart. “I just want you to be as happy.”
Whit turned away, pulled his already packed suitcase onto the bed and started throwing more things into it. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I know,” Sofia said. And she scooped up the cat and left the room. The door closed with a soft click.
Whit sat back down on the bed and remembered the pictures Andie took. He fished the memory card out of his pocket and loaded it onto the computer. And now, instead of screen after screen of Grayson and Kayla, he saw screen after screen of himself. Alone. The only shot that made him smile was the one where he had posed for Andie.