too."
We got in her car and drove to the grocery store in the next town over. She spent the ride reviewing the list and asking for my input. I'd never really had a say before, so I didn't contribute much. When I lived with Carol and George, I would write the basics of what I needed on the grocery list―cereal, granola bars, and the like―since I wasn't allowed to eat it unless I'd asked for it. But for the most part, I ate what was put in front of me, no questions asked―even when it made me violently ill.
We ultimately decided to make up the list as we went along. Which was pretty much our approach to everything―including our relationship.
"You know I'm not exactly very good at this mother thing, right?" my mother said, picking through a pile of apples and putting a few that met her approval in a produce bag.
I didn't know how to respond. It was the start of a conversation I never expected to have in a grocery store.
"I mean, I don't want you to think that I'm expecting to walk back into your life and take charge or anything," she continued, her voice laced with apprehension. "I just want... I think it would be nice if we were... friends. You know, instead of..." She looked at me with her lips pressed together. "I just want to get to know you. Does that make sense?"
My shoulders eased in relief. I had no idea where the conversation was headed, but this was a welcome surprise. I wasn't exactly sure how to be her daughter any more than I expected her to be my mother.
"Yes," I agreed with a smile. "I'd like that."
"So, would you be okay with calling me Rachel then?" she asked cautiously. " Mom feels a little weird to be honest."
I let out an uncomfortable laugh, slightly surprised by the request. "I can try."
She smiled softly and released her nervousness with a quick breath. "Great. Now, what do you eat for lunch?"
I continued behind her, pushing the grocery cart around as she held up items and waited for me to nod or shake my head before placing them in the cart or putting them back. By the time we were done, there was more food in the cart than two people could eat in a month. Thankfully, a good portion of it was frozen.
"Do you want to learn how to cook?" my mother asked as she set the items on the belt. "I could teach you."
I smiled warmly at her offer. "Uh, sure," I replied, not having the heart to tell her that Evan had already made several attempts to teach me, and each had ended disastrously. She seemed eager to be able to do something with me―I would at least try .
"So, how long have you and Evan been together?" she asked after we had loaded the groceries in the car and were driving home.
"Officially," I calculated, "about ten months."
"What does officially mean?"
"Well," I fumbled, not sure how to explain how we felt for each other from pretty much day one, and how due to misunderstandings and hurt feelings, it had taken forever before we finally ended up together. "I guess I don't know how to answer that. Let's just say we started dating last March."
"Okay," she accepted with a confused nod. "He seems really nice."
"Yes," I agreed. My face glowed. "He is."
"I'm still looking," she said with a sigh. "I'll never find anyone like Derek again."
My heart faltered. I knew we had agreed to be friends , but she was still my mother. And having her talk so casually about finding the next best thing to my dead father knocked me back a bit.
"Do you want to help me with dinner tonight?"
"Huh?" I stumbled, still trying to get over her comment.
"Want to start your cooking lessons?" she clarified.
"Can I take a pass on tonight?" I begged. "I think I want to wait a bit before revealing how terrible I am.”
She laughed. "You can't be that bad."
"You have no idea," I grumbled, making her laugh again.
"Okay. Maybe another night."
I sat in the kitchen with her while she explained what she was doing as she filled the pork chops with stuffing. I just nodded like I was paying attention, knowing it
We got in her car and drove to the grocery store in the next town over. She spent the ride reviewing the list and asking for my input. I'd never really had a say before, so I didn't contribute much. When I lived with Carol and George, I would write the basics of what I needed on the grocery list―cereal, granola bars, and the like―since I wasn't allowed to eat it unless I'd asked for it. But for the most part, I ate what was put in front of me, no questions asked―even when it made me violently ill.
We ultimately decided to make up the list as we went along. Which was pretty much our approach to everything―including our relationship.
"You know I'm not exactly very good at this mother thing, right?" my mother said, picking through a pile of apples and putting a few that met her approval in a produce bag.
I didn't know how to respond. It was the start of a conversation I never expected to have in a grocery store.
"I mean, I don't want you to think that I'm expecting to walk back into your life and take charge or anything," she continued, her voice laced with apprehension. "I just want... I think it would be nice if we were... friends. You know, instead of..." She looked at me with her lips pressed together. "I just want to get to know you. Does that make sense?"
My shoulders eased in relief. I had no idea where the conversation was headed, but this was a welcome surprise. I wasn't exactly sure how to be her daughter any more than I expected her to be my mother.
"Yes," I agreed with a smile. "I'd like that."
"So, would you be okay with calling me Rachel then?" she asked cautiously. " Mom feels a little weird to be honest."
I let out an uncomfortable laugh, slightly surprised by the request. "I can try."
She smiled softly and released her nervousness with a quick breath. "Great. Now, what do you eat for lunch?"
I continued behind her, pushing the grocery cart around as she held up items and waited for me to nod or shake my head before placing them in the cart or putting them back. By the time we were done, there was more food in the cart than two people could eat in a month. Thankfully, a good portion of it was frozen.
"Do you want to learn how to cook?" my mother asked as she set the items on the belt. "I could teach you."
I smiled warmly at her offer. "Uh, sure," I replied, not having the heart to tell her that Evan had already made several attempts to teach me, and each had ended disastrously. She seemed eager to be able to do something with me―I would at least try .
"So, how long have you and Evan been together?" she asked after we had loaded the groceries in the car and were driving home.
"Officially," I calculated, "about ten months."
"What does officially mean?"
"Well," I fumbled, not sure how to explain how we felt for each other from pretty much day one, and how due to misunderstandings and hurt feelings, it had taken forever before we finally ended up together. "I guess I don't know how to answer that. Let's just say we started dating last March."
"Okay," she accepted with a confused nod. "He seems really nice."
"Yes," I agreed. My face glowed. "He is."
"I'm still looking," she said with a sigh. "I'll never find anyone like Derek again."
My heart faltered. I knew we had agreed to be friends , but she was still my mother. And having her talk so casually about finding the next best thing to my dead father knocked me back a bit.
"Do you want to help me with dinner tonight?"
"Huh?" I stumbled, still trying to get over her comment.
"Want to start your cooking lessons?" she clarified.
"Can I take a pass on tonight?" I begged. "I think I want to wait a bit before revealing how terrible I am.”
She laughed. "You can't be that bad."
"You have no idea," I grumbled, making her laugh again.
"Okay. Maybe another night."
I sat in the kitchen with her while she explained what she was doing as she filled the pork chops with stuffing. I just nodded like I was paying attention, knowing it