Page 235 of Just for the Cameras
As much as it kills me to acknowledge his presence, I nod. From thebeginning, I’ve said that I wouldn’t speak ill of my father, not because I owe him that, but because I don’t want to snap my mom out of this dreamlike state where she knows who I am.
“I do. I’ve been playing for a while, but there isn’t a day that goes by when you’re not with me.”
She turns the page and there’s a new set of pictures, the ones of me and Maple. She takes a moment to look them over, her fingers swiping over a picture of me holding Maple closely.
“Is this…your girlfriend?”
“It is,” I say. “That’s Maple. She’s right behind me, actually.”
Mom’s attention shifts to the figure behind me, and the smallest of smiles crosses her lips. Quietly, she says, “She’s beautiful.”
“I know. I’m really lucky she chose me. She’s a zookeeper, Mom. Takes care of the flamingos. I’ve been helping out at the zoo. Do you know what she makes me do?”
“What?”
“Wash the dishes.”
My mom clutches her chest and lets out the best sound to ever hit my ears…her laugh.
It brings back a flood of memories, hitting me all at once.
Sitting at the kitchen table, playing cards.
Attempting to have her run routes in the backyard but failing miserably.
Carving pumpkins the night before Halloween, getting slime and seeds all over us.
Making smoothies but forgetting to put the top on the blender so everything shoots up.
It’s one memory right after the other, filling me with joy, happiness, and not a hint of heartache.
“Well, I need to meet this girl who makes you do dishes.”
I stand and then offer my hand to Maple, who takes it and carefullywalks up to my mom. She squats in front of her as well, mimicking my position, and places her hand on top of my mom’s.
“Hi, Mrs. St. John. I’m Maple.”
Mom’s eyes light up, and her smile grows. “Maple, it’s so nice to meet you. I hear you make my son clean bird dishes.”
Maple chuckles. “I do, and between you and me, he’s really good at it, hence why I keep having him do it.”
I watch as Mom takes Maple’s hand in hers and encourages her to stand and then move over to the stool next to her. Maple takes a seat, and my mom brings the album between the two of them.
“Tell me what you’re doing in these pictures.”
“I have something even better,” Maple says and then pulls her phone out of her dress pocket. “Let me show you where this all started.”
For the next few minutes, I watch Maple charm my mother, showing her picture after picture of us that we’ve posted on Flock and Tackle. Maple talks about how much she likes me and how I’ve helped her in her endeavor to save the flamingos, and she even shows her the mural I painted. My mom is completely infatuated as she takes her time, looking over every picture.
Occasionally, Maple looks in my direction, offering me a smile that nearly splits me in half.
And as my mom bumps shoulders with Maple, laughing and talking about the flamingos, I watch them, my eyes enraptured by the woman who has not only captured my attention but my mom’s as well. I consider her words from the other night, when she grabbed me from the abyss of both self-loathing and anger at my dad.
“You’ve had enough abandonment in your life; I refuse to be someone else who does that to you. So like I said, do your worst, but whatever you do or say is not going to make me leave you here alone. Not happening. We’re in this together.”
Fuck, those words. Her heart. Her tenderness and kindness toward my mom.
I’m falling in love with this woman.
