I follow her to the door and let out a sigh.
“Fine. Oh, by the way, Nan's birthday is soon. Maybe we should call or visit her? It has been years,” I say.
As my mom opens the front door, she looks at me sternly and utters, “That woman wants no part in our lives. She was never there to lend a hand,” my mother says, opening the front door.
I nod in agreement, hoping to quickly escort her off the property. Following her footsteps, I glimpse at Nate standing by the porch, a cigarette in his hand. He notices us and waves goodbye to my mother before taking another drag, the smoke swirling around him in the cool air.
I stand on the porch and watch my mom walk down the driveway toward her car.
Nate stands just off the porch beside me and offers a comforting smile. “You got everything?” he asks, breaking my train of thought. I nod and reply, “Yeah, I just need to grab my laptop and then we are good.”
Nate takes one final drag from his cigarette before extinguishing it under his boot. He steps into the house behind me, his footsteps echoing off the walls as he makes his way to the bedroom. Without hesitation, he reaches for the suitcase.
“Everything okay with your mom?” Nate asks as we both walk to the front door.
“Yeah, she just wants me to check in on my brother while she is away.”
We leave the house and I take one last glance around before locking the front door. Nate carries the suitcase, making his way to the truck. I follow him and climb into the passenger side as Nate gets behind the wheel and starts the engine.
“We need to stop in town to get some food and things,” Nate states.
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” I reply.
As we begin our journey to town, Nate gently places his hand on my thigh and looks at me curiously. “What's the story with your mom?” he inquires.
As the truck speeds down the road, the wind rushes in through the open window, tugging at my hair. I avoid making eye contact, instead staring fixedly ahead through the windscreen. The topic of conversation is one that I loathe – my mother. “After my dad passed away, my mom became restless and seemed to look for someone to fill the void constantly. She has been married three times, but all of them have ended in a bitter divorce. She has a habit of prioritizing her partner over everything else in her life.”
Nate's hand moves slowly up and down my thigh, his eyes filled with compassion as he speaks. “I'm sorry to hear about your father. How did he pass away? Or would you rather not talk about it?”
When it comes to discussing my dad's death, I don't feel particularly uncomfortable. It happened when I was still relatively young, and although it was undoubtedly a difficult time, I have since come to terms with it and have found a way to move forward.
“Heart attack. My mom always said his gambling habit caused it. Plus, smoking didn’t help, either.”
I hold Nate’s hand tightly. I can't help but recall painful memories of how my dad would recklessly spend all his and my mom's hard-earned money without a second thought about our basic needs, such as paying the rent. A memory from when I was ten shoots into my mind when my dad left me locked in the car for three hours while he went to the casino. It still haunts me.
“He was always chasing that big win, blinded by his addiction to gambling. He would even take time off work to spend time at the betting shops. He once left me in a car for hours while he went into a casino. He was supposed to take me to the doctor, I was off school, sick. I guess my mom was right; in the end, it was all too much for him.” I say, showing no emotion.
Nate gazes at me with a worried expression etched on his face, his eyes brimming with concern. “Oh, baby,” he whispers. “Let me pull over and hold you.”
“No. It’s fine. I’m over it now. Life goes on,” I quip.
I knew if he had hugged me at that moment, I would have shown emotion toward my dad’s death.
I didn't want to.
As we drive into town, Nate pulls his mobile phone from his pocket and starts typing a message. I quickly glance at him before stepping out of the truck, taking in the sights and sounds of the busy streets around us.
Nate quickly jumps out and approaches me with a confident stride.
“Right, what are you thinking for dinner?” he asks.
My mind ponders for a moment.
“Umm. What about roast chicken?” I ask.
Nate's head bobs up and down in a gesture of affirmation as we make our way towards the store, bracing ourselves for the hustle and bustle of the busy streets ahead.
We enter the store as the bright lights and neatly arranged shelves welcome us. We head straight to the food section, scanning through the colorful packages and fresh produce. We begin picking up the ingredients we need. Suddenly, when no one is around, Nate playfully slaps my ass and lets out a deep chuckle, making me smile and blush at the same time.
“You’re naughty.” I giggle.
Nate gently grabs my arm and pulls me closer. He plants a quick kiss on my cheek, his warm breath tickling my skin. With a soft whisper, he says, “Only for you, baby.”
Nate takes a step back and pivots, his gaze shifting to a shelf. Meanwhile, I shift my attention towards the window and catch a glimpse of someone who looks like Mike walking past.
I shake my head, dismissing the thought. I turn around to face Nate and begin filling our basket with fresh vegetables. We make our way to the checkout, quickly pay for our groceries, and exit the store.
We hop into the truck and begin our journey back to Nate's place. We accelerate through the winding roads that cut through the vast countryside. Suddenly, Nate veers off the road and brings the truck to a halt in front of a lush and verdant forest. The sight of it is breathtaking with trees standing tall and proud, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze.
“I wanna show you something!” Nate suddenly exclaims, promptly jumping out of the truck. I am a bit confused. However, I follow suit and hop out of the truck as well, eager to see what he has in store for me.
As he grasps my hand, our feet start moving down the uneven path surrounded by the lush greenery of the forest. The crunching of the stones under our shoes accompanies the rustling of leaves as we venture deeper into the woods, hand in hand, with nothing but the sound of nature to keep us company.
“Where are we going? You have a forest behind your house, you know,” I say.
“I don’t have this behind mine,” Nate claims, pointing his finger in front of him.
