Drumbeats into My Heart

71. Seth is Wonderful

I wake up the next morning to the smells of something delicious. I follow my nose to the kitchen.

"Oh good, you're up," my mother says as she empties a pan of breakfast sausages onto a platter.

From the looks and smells of it, she's making another apology breakfast for me. I'm not sure what she might be apologizing for, but I definitely don't mind. Maybe this is how she communicates.

Someone once told me about love languages. How each person conveys their love in different ways, and one person's way may not be someone else's way, and so they fail to connect even though the love is there. I always thought they were talking about romantic relationships, but now I think it can apply to any relationship.

I wonder if food is a love language.

When Mom made those smiley-face pancakes the other day, she'd told me about how she was raising me to be a self-sufficient person, poised for success. That that was how she cared for me. For her, that's love.

Some of our rare heart-to-hearts have been during a special meal. I wonder what she wants to—

Is that a waffle? I watch her lift it out of a waffle iron I didn't even know we had.

She sets it in front of me. "I thought we'd try something different."

"Wow," is all I can say as she slides the butter next to the plate.

She watches expectantly.

"This looks amazing," I add.

She smiles proudly, which lights up her face.

I've never realized how little she smiles. The last time might have been that apology breakfast with the chocolate chip pancakes.

As I slather butter and pour syrup, she fixes herself a plate of sausage and eggs and settles beside me at the table. Normally her proximity would make me anxious, but it's not hitting me today. I'm admittedly a little nervous—our history doesn't just disappear after one pleasant evening watching documentaries—but at least I don't feel the urge to hide like I normally do.

We eat in silence for about a minute. It's a tiny bit awkward, but the waffle is good. I'm about to tell her this when she clears her throat.

"I know I'm not easy to live with," she states as she cuts a sausage in half with her fork. "And I know you're a good kid."

She avoids looking at me, so I just chew slowly, focus on my plate, and listen.

"You're actually the best son a mother could ask for."

I stop chewing. Is this the same mother who finds fault in wearing super-hero shirts to birthday parties?

"And I never tell you how good you are. How wonderful. How thoughtful and smart and—" Her voice catches. "And I'm sorry. You deserve to hear these things." She risks a quick glance in my direction before pushing a sausage piece around on her plate. "I wish I had realized this sooner. Much sooner."

My throat constricts and I can barely swallow the food in my mouth. How long have I wanted to hear these words from her?

Forever. All my life. And now that it's happened, I don't know what to say. Thank you? It's about time? Please tell me more about my wonderfulness?

My brain is a mosh pit of emotions, and I'm nearly frozen with indecision. Or is it shock?

She's staring at her plate now.

I have to say something.

"I—" the words bind in my throat. Thoughts and feelings blur together. I can't speak.

So I lean over and throw my arms around her instead.

She squeezes back immediately.

We hug for ages.

***

Later in the day, I'm full of good feelings about myself. It bolsters me when I bring myself to turn my phone on again.

There are eight voicemail messages waiting for me.

With a sigh, I play the first one.

"Hi. It's Jordi. Please call me back."

I delete it and start the next one.

"Hi. It's Jordi again. I need to talk to you. Please. Call me."

I delete that too.

"Seth, I'm so sorry. You must be feeling like—" she utters a sigh. "I see why you didn't leave messages. Before. When I was the one who was mad."

I waver over deleting this one, but decide to listen to the next one instead.

"Look, I know that going out with Dustin again was, like, the biggest jackass thing to do. But... in my mind, you and I weren't together. Not after... I was so mad at you. You don't understand. You humiliated me, in front of everyone. I just—I wish—" Her voice breaks and the message ends.

The next message begins with a whoosh of air. "Now I know exactly how you felt trying to call me. I'm sorry about that."

I pause in between messages, rubbing my face with my hands. I feel like a jerk.

Next message.

"Hi Seth. I know you probably don't want to hear Dustin's name ever again, but... I just wanted to let you know that... when I broke it off with him, I told him I could never love him. He doesn't get me. Not like you do. I think that—no, I know—that I could love you." She clears her throat. "God, why did I say that in a voice mail?" she mumbles to herself before ending the call.

I lean back in my chair, stunned. Saying she could love me is almost admitting that she does. I make absolutely sure to save that one and go to the next message.

"Seth..." Her voice is so soft, it's almost a whisper. I press the phone into my ear. "I miss you."

I close my eyes. Why was I so mad at her again? Or was I mad at myself for not being good enough? Am I clinging to misplaced anger because I feel bad about myself?

On to the final message.

"Hey." She sounds tired, like maybe she hasn't been sleeping. "The drum circle in Brookfall is next Sunday. I'd love it if you'd come. I remember how much you liked it, and I thought... well, never mind what I thought. If I don't see you, I'll understand. I'll stop bothering you." A shuddering sigh. "Goodbye, Seth."

I save the message and end the call, resting my forehead against my phone.

Goodbye. It sounds so final. Is this really it?

I toss my phone onto the bed and flop next to it, throwing an arm across my eyes.

I have a lot to think about.

Maybe he can think about votes, too, while he's at it. Just an idea.