Delicate

Chapter 14

HAVEN MCQUEEN

Despite how long my mom has been living in Georgia, I've never once visited during the Fall because it wasn't possible. The court agreement was that I would stay in Los Angeles with my dad because of the stability he could offer with his finances, but I'd be able to visit my mom in the summer and vice versa whenever we both wanted. Leaving me was hard for her, I know that, but she was never absent in my life in the slightest. If she wasn't visiting California, we were speaking on the phone every single day until I went to college, at which point it was hard for either of my parents to get ahold of me.

But now I'm lugging my suitcase off the bus and standing in the crisp autumn air, which I'm not used to here. Usually, I'm either freezing in the harsh winter or the heat and humidity combination is so intense that I'd take a shower and start sweating all over again as soon as I'd turn the water off and wrap myself in a towel, so this is a nice change.

"Haven!" My mom's voice forces me to whip around to see her waving from her faded red pickup truck. I smile instantly as I start in that direction, vaguely recalling the time when I would be so embarrassed to hear her yelling my name like that.

"Hi, Mom," I laugh as she hops out of the truck in her paint-stained jeans and old USC crewneck.

"Hi, baby," she speaks with her heavy southern accent, petting my hair down my back. "Let me look at you."

Keeping my smile, I roll my eyes when she clicks her tongue like she's disappointed, shaking her head at me. "What?"

"Just as I thought," she sighs and reaches around me to grab my suitcase handle, "they don't feed you in Los Angeles."

"Mom!" I laugh as she snaps her fingers for me to get in the truck. "You're smaller than me."

"Shut it," she secures my luggage in the bed before we both climb inside. The cloth bench seat is as worn as I remember but the interior is as clean as clean can be, save it be a few yellow leaves on the floor and a Juicy Fruit gum wrapper in one of the cupholders. It smells like her floral perfume as well, which is the scent she's been wearing for as long as I can recall.

"So how've you been?" I ask first.

"Oh, I've been alright," she's wearing a small smile as I look over to study her perfect profile. I've always been envious of her perfect petite features, like the gentle swoop of her nose and doe green eyes, her natural dirty blonde hair. She has very subtle wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and faint smile lines around her mouth that most women in Los Angeles wouldn't be caught dead with, but she makes them look so beautiful. She makes me feel like I don't have to be afraid to get older.

"You look good," I stifle a laugh at the worn brown cowboy boots she decided to wear with her outfit. "But your outfit is wack."

She lets out a good laugh as she takes one hand off the wheel to shake my arm. "I feel good, but how are you, darlin'? What's happening out there in the world that I'm missing?"

"Absolutely nothing," I reply honestly. "You aren't missing anything."

"Well, I wanna hear about your job! Tell me about the cute English boy!"

"Mom," I cough a laugh, pinching my eyes closed. "The job is going really well and I'm having a great time. Can't beat the pay, either."

"And they're all treating you well?" She makes a double glance at me like she's trying to inspect me again. "They respect you?"

"Yeah, of course," I smile to myself as I stare out the windshield and think of Harry. I saw him this morning before I left but that doesn't mean I don't miss him now.