Curvy Girls Can’t Date Soldiers by Kelsie Stelting

Forty-Eight

Apollo

Saturday kicked off Parents’Weekend at the college, and I promised myself I would stay as far away from campus as possible. Dad had already told me he couldn’t make it because of a convention he needed to attend, and Mom still hadn’t called. All of Brentwood U would be crawling with students and parents, and no matter how much I hated to admit it, I was so jealous it was making me sick.

So, I got up early and drove to the Brentwood Senior Community to see Great-Aunt Tilly. This place had become somewhat of a second home since I moved to California for school. Even though studies and ROTC kept me busy, I always knew I could escape here, and Aunt Tilly would be a quiet shoulder to lean on.

I walked through the front glass door and typed in the entry code. Miss Rosie sat in her wheelchair near the door, and her face lit up when she saw me. She extended her arms for a hug, and I leaned in, giving her a squeeze.

“How are you doing, Miss Rosie?” I asked.

She smiled, her eyes cloudy. “Good, good.”

“Good to hear,” I said, and told her I’d see her in a bit. The hallway with all the rooms stretched before me, and I took in the familiar sights, sounds, and even smells of the nursing home. In the recreation area, old TV shows played at a decibel that could injure a younger child’s hearing. Through an open door to a room, I could hear family members shouting at their loved one in order to be heard clearly. There was the whir of cards in the shuffling machine as a group played at a table in a little lobby area.

At the end of the hall, I reached Aunt Tilly’s room. There were a few photocopied pictures of her on the door. One from Christmas when they’d put her in a Santa hat. Another of her denture-clad smile on bingo night. Then photos of her with each of her nieces and nephews who’d attended Brentwood U and come to visit over the years.

The door was cracked, and I could hear Miss Honey talking to Aunt Tilly. I knocked, not sure whether or not she’d be decent, and the nurse called, “Come in!”

I pushed the door open and slipped inside. Miss Honey, was adjusting a tray table in front of Aunt Tilly while the TV played the gameshow channel. That was Aunt Tilly’s favorite. And mine, if I was being honest.

“Hi, Miss Honey,” I said. “Hi, Aunt Tilly.”

Aunt Tilly smiled at me, and Miss Honey said, “Tilly, tell me your secrets. How do you get these fine-looking boys to always come and visit you?”

Lifting a weathered hand, Aunt Tilly patted Miss Honey’s hand, and Miss Honey turned toward me. “Can I get you anything from the caf?”

“If you wanted to slip me a tray, I wouldn’t complain,” I said, going to sit in the extra chair next to Aunt Tilly’s recliner. She picked up a piece of toast and began chewing.

“Sure thing,” Miss Honey said and excused herself from the room.

A commercial break started, and she hit the mute button on the remote.

“You want to hear about my drama this week?” I asked.

She turned her head toward me for a moment before looking back to her food. An invitation.

I unloaded my story about Nadira and Tatiana and what a horrible time I’d been having with it. “My roommate’s girlfriend thinks I need to grieve, and Josh thinks I need to forgive her, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” I let out a sigh and rubbed my hands through my hair. “I’m a real mess.”

She reached over and patted my hand and then continued eating. My eyes stung because she knew. It was the best she could do, and it was still more than my mom had done for me in the last eight months.

The door pushed open, and I looked up to see what Miss Honey had brought me to eat, but it wasn’t Miss Honey at the door.

My mom stepped in, gripping her purse. “That was quite a story.”

Aunt Tilly’s fork clattered to her plastic plate and my lips parted, both of us equally as surprised to see my mom standing there.

“Mom?” I breathed. I almost couldn’t believe she was standing in front of me.

Her lips faltered into a smile before falling again. “Oh, honey.”

I got out of my seat and ran to her arms, just like I would have when I was a kid needing some invisible hurt kissed better. She hugged me tight, breathing raggedly into my chest, and I cried into her shoulder.

A frustrated sigh sounded behind us, and I looked back to see Aunt Tilly staring at us, an about-time look in her eyes.

* * *

We spent the morning with Aunt Tilly, then Mom and I went to get lunch at Seaton Bakery. Josh had introduced me to it a few months back, and it had quickly become one of my favorite places in California.

Gayle, the woman who co-owned the bakery with her husband, set us up with plenty of great food and even a new lemonade recipe they were trying.

Mom sat across from me at the booth, looking around. “You’ve got quite the place here.”

I smiled, looking around. But there was still an ache between us. We hadn’t talked about our rift, not in front of Aunt Tilly, but I couldn’t bring myself to approach the topic. Not now. Not when I had her so close.

So instead, we ate and caught up. She told me about her volunteer work with the local hospital. How my youngest sister Jane was doing in her vocal lessons and how Josh and Bette’s wedding planning was going.

I drank in her words, all of the knowledge about my family. My sister and I texted sometimes. Dad called occasionally, but it wasn’t the same as hearing from Mom. She noticed little details Dad never picked up and my siblings never thought to share.

By the time our food was cleared from our plates, I felt so much closer to home than I had since leaving.

She began piling her napkins and silverware on her plate—a carryover from her time as a waitress—and said, “Do you want to show me your dorm? I’d love to meet your roommate.”

I nodded. “That would be great.”

She followed me in her car to the college, and I kept glancing at my phone in the passenger seat. I’d imagined when my mom and I reconciled, I’d be introducing her to Nadira. Mom would have loved the story of the uncanny way Nadira and I met.

That was not happening today.

I wondered when the reminders of my heartbreak would stop playing in my head. When I’d broken up with my high school sweetheart, it hadn’t hurt this bad, and we’d been together for two years.

We circled the crowded parking lot until I found a couple of openings next to each other. As I got out and greeted my mom, I said, “Sorry, it’s a bit of a walk from here.”

“No worries.” She smiled, extending her hand to loop her arm through mine. “Reminds me of when I went here.”

We walked together toward the dorm, passing other students with their families, and I didn’t feel jealous anymore. In fact, I was proud. Thankful that my mom, the woman who’d raised me, had come from Texas to see me, even with the awkwardness that still lingered between us.

As we approached my room, I said, “Just a warning, Josh is an art student, and his girlfriend’s a little over the top.”

Mom batted her hand at me. “Do you remember the horror story about my first roommate?”

I snorted. “True. At least Josh hasn’t started collecting my toenail clippings yet.”

Mom shuddered.

I slipped my key into the knob and looked in to check if Josh was home. “It’s just us,” I told my mom, opening the door to our empty room. At least Josh had thought to spray Febreze before his parents got here. And he’d even used the Swiffer to clean the floor.

Mom scanned the room, nodding, a watery smile forming. She let out a strangled sob and covered her mouth.

“Mom,” I said gently, but what was there to say?

“I’ve missed so much,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “This is an amazing new home you’ve made for yourself.”

My throat felt tight, hearing her praise. All I’d ever wanted to do was make my parents proud.

“I was scared I was going to lose you, so I made the choice my own.” She shook her head, as if at herself. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at me. “Can you ever forgive me?”

I smiled, pulling her into a hug. “I already have.”