A couple tears leak out of my eyes. "Really?"
"Oh yes." Mom grabs my hand and pulls me to the table. "We were young when we had you, but he was so happy. He wanted you so much,. God, he was so full of love. He worked so hard to give us everything he could." She laughs. "He tried to make up for my dad, you know. He used to tell me he would make sure he'd tell me he loved me at least once every day of our lives, to make sure I knew how special I was. You get that from him. How you love? It's just like your dad."
Pride swells inside me. I've always wanted to be like him.
"You, me, and basketball. We were your dad's life. He used to tell me you'd be better than him one day. You are. I'm sure he gets a kick out of that."
It feels like my skin cracks open and light spills out. "You think? Really think I'm better than he was?"
Half of Mom's mouth rises. "Oh come on, Carter. You know you're the man."
Hearing Mom say 'the man' makes me laugh.
"It's hard to believe it's been so long. It feels like yesterday." Softly, she starts to cry again and I abandon my original idea.
"What do you want to do tonight? Movie and Chinese?"
Mom shakes her head. "No. I know you want to go out with Kira tonight. You deserve to spend the night with your girlfriend and not babysit me. Sara's with Bill and I bought a half gallon of ice cream, stuff to give myself a pedicure. I'm going to spend the night spoiling myself the way he would have." She pats my hand and stands up. Her words sound right, but it feels wrong. I can't leave her. Not on the anniversary of my dad's death.
"Mom..."
"It's not up for debate. I'm okay to be alone. I promise."
There's a war being fought inside me. A one on one game. I know I shouldn't leave her, but I want to. I want to go out with Kira and have the night we should have had last week. I don't want to be the guy who has to worry about his mom if he goes out with his girlfriend. "You're sure?"
"I have the only son in the world that would make me kick him out. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend. Not too much fun, though."
"Lalalala. Don't make me hear that again." I back away laughing. "I'm going. I'm going."
Mom's voice stops me as I start to walk away. "I love you, Carter."
Looking at her, I say, "I love you too, Ma."
The whole time I'm getting ready, I think about what I want to do. I'm going to do it. I'm taking the bottle. If she looks for it, she'll be upset, but I don't care. It's better than the alternative.
When I push open her bedroom door, she's in her room, folding clothes. "Hey. Need something?" she asks. It's not like I can tell her, 'hey, mind leaving for a minute so I can steal your vodka?'.
"No, no. Just wanted to say bye." She'll be okay, I tell myself as I walk away. She'll be okay.
***
I pick Kira up at about five. She climbs into my truck, putting a picnic basket on her lap. She tosses a big duffle bag on the floorboard.
"What's that?" I point to the basket.
"Dinner, of course."
"I figured I'd take you out for dinner." My truck is idling in her driveway.
"And I figured I'd make you dinner. I think we should stay as far away from other people as we can tonight. Like that night in the Jacuzzi? That was perfect. We need to find a place where no one can bother us. Your choice because you know the area better than me."
For the second time, I realize I love this girl. Like, actually love her. "I know a place, but are you sure? It's cold."
"Afraid of a little cold weather?" she mocks, making me laugh.
"Nope. Gives me the opportunity to keep you warm."
It takes us thirty minutes to get there. The road is just as dark as I remember. I almost miss the driveway, but catch it at the last minute. Leaving the truck going, I jump out and unlock the old gate so we can drive in.
"Breaking and entering again?"
Shaking my head, I say, "Nope. I wouldn't have the key if that was the case. This is my grandpa's house. He doesn't live here, but he won't sell it or give it to Mom either. It's just his way of giving her something else to take care of. We're not going inside though." My truck bounces around in potholes as we go down the driveway. It continues past the house, getting bumpier and more off-road than when we first started.
When we get there, I turn around and back up until we're almost to the lake. "Come on." I tell her, getting out of the truck. I walk around, grabbing the bag while she takes the basket. It's November so it's already dark even though it's early evening. The trees make shadows, bouncing off the lake. Above the water is a perfect clearing, showing the stars in a different way than we see them in town.
"Carter, it's beautiful." Kira's standing next to me.
"Mom told me she used to sneak out of the house and meet my dad down here. Are there blankets in the bag?" The night doesn't need to start out on a sad note.
"A girl always comes prepared." Laughing I lower the door on my truck bed, climb up and lay out the three blankets. "Will you do me a favor and grab the flashlights out of my glove box?" I ask her. The moon is really bright tonight, giving us light, but I want to see her as best I can.
The basket clunks into the truck bed, followed by the flashlights and then Kira is climbing up too. We sit in the middle of the blankets as she pulls out some sandwiches, fruit, and sodas.
"Hey, I thought you said you were cooking me dinner!"
"I did. This is my way of cooking."
"You're crazy."
She winks. "I know."
We eat dinner and then I pull out my phone and we challenge each other to a couple games of Angry Birds. The time flies, a few hours passing too quickly.
"It's getting cold." Kira scoots up and pulls one of the blankets over her, before leaning against the window.
"That's my cue." Suddenly, I'm kind of nervous, which might make me insane. I've never been nervous with a girl in my life. I definitely shouldn't be nervous with this girl.
Balling the backpack up, I lay it down, and put my head on it. "Come here. Let me keep you warm."
I hold my arm out and Kira cuddles inside, laying her head in the crook of my arm. I'm pretty sure she belongs there. We're lying under the blanket, her heat against my side. It's perfect.
"Can we talk? I mean, I know we can talk, but I didn't know if you wanted to talk about—"
"You can ask me anything you want," I interrupt her.
"What you said about your grandpa earlier?"
I groan, not wanting to talk about him, but willing to tell her anything regardless. "He's a prick. He was an alcoholic the whole time Mom grew up. Verbally and emotionally abusive to her and my grandma. Mom was...well, I guess you can say she was probably a nerd in high school. She told me she didn't have many friends or anything. She was really shy and kept to herself, but then..."
"She met your dad," she finishes for me.