Always Alone | ✓

Chapter Eighteen

SOON AFTER MY conversation with Mom, I find myself at the airport. This is what I love about her, how she's always there for me even miles away, even when she doesn't agree with my decisions. I hope that one day I can be as great of a mother as she's been to me and Jess, with all her failures and triumphs.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach for it.

"Hey, Mom! Where are you?" I ask, standing on my toes and poking my head around the people in front of me to see if I can catch a glimpse of her from here.

"Right behind you," I hear her familiar voice close to my ear and turn around.

Instantly, my shaky arms wrap around her neck as my body begins to quiver.

"I've missed you so much, Mom."

"Shh, shh." She soothes. "Momma's here. I'll fix everything, don't worry."

There's no better medicine than a mother's hug. She hugs me tightly as if she wants to take all of my pain away. Wiping under my glassy eyes, I clean my hands on my shorts, feeling a lot better already.

"Let's get something to eat; I'm starving," she says and walks in front of me, out of the airport. I giggle as her steps falter the closer she gets to the exit.

"This way, Mom." I point to the right where the parking lot is.

As we drive through the streets of Miami, Mom talks about Dad and how much he misses me. He made a frail attempt at making here, but Mom stopped him before he was able to click the purchase button. She mentions Pastor Paul who's asked about me and wants to know the name of the church I'm going to now.

My stomach swells up as guilt seeps through my bones. Ever since I moved, I haven't gone to church and the more time I've spent with Devin, the less and less I've opened my bible let alone pray. My heart sags down as I realize how much I've let go of Him, yet I feel Him every day silently watching the mistakes I continuously make with Devin.

Speaking of him, he hasn't bothered to text me, and I have a feeling this will continue for days as it did last time. I know he doesn't deserve my thoughts, much less my tears and worry, but I can't help but wonder if this is the part he mentioned about pushing me away.

"Can you put the air? It's so hot in here," Mom gushes, fanning herself with the scarf around her neck.

"I told you to come in a dress or shorts, but you're wearing winter clothes in a state that has no winter."

"Well, it's winter in all the other states. I thought it would be a bit breezy here, too."

"De—" I catch myself before the name rolls out of my mouth. "A lot of my coworkers say it's usually summer all year around. No need for winter clothes."

I can feel her eyes narrowing as I take a right onto Collins Avenue, but she doesn't get a chance to ask her prying questions. I press on the gas and reach the valet in no time.

Mom is mesmerized by the beach and asks to be seated on the outside tables to admire the picturesque view. A few minutes later, the waitress brings out our soft drinks and we order our lunch.

Throughout our meal, we dance around our pending conversation and the reason for her trip, neither wanting to bring it up or damper our tranquil mood. I tell her about work, the kids, and Angie, reminding her to tell Dad about how great of a "protector" she's been for the last months I've had her.