Chapter 5
I sent the message and put my phone away.Weeks passed.
The cruise carried me from Miami to Jamaica, through the Caribbean, and eventually toward Europe.
I finally saw places I had spent forty years promising myself I would visit someday.
Someday always came after somebody else.
After Austin needed help.
After Chloe needed a babysitter.
After Ernest recovered.
After the bills were paid.
After everyone else was comfortable.
There had always been another after.
Until there wasn’t.
So I stopped waiting.
I learned to dance on the upper deck.
I ate breakfast by myself.
I joined a watercolor class.
I sat with strangers and listened to their lives.
Nobody asked what I could do for them.
They simply asked my name.
“Theresa.”
And that was enough.
Two months into the cruise, Austin called.
I answered.
“Mom.”
His voice sounded different.
Softer.
“I wanted to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I went to Dad’s grave.”
I remained silent.
“I hadn’t gone since the funeral.”
My throat tightened.
“What did you say to him?”
Austin exhaled.
“I told him I was sorry.”
I stared across the ocean.
“Sorry for what?”
“For treating you like you were supposed to keep taking care of me.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The sentence I had waited forty years to hear.
Strangely, I no longer needed it.
“I hope you meant it,” I said.
“I do.”
“And Chloe?”
“She understands now.”
I almost smiled.
“Does she?”
“She does.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then Austin whispered,
“Are you coming home?”
I looked around the cabin.
My suitcase.
The little vase of flowers I had bought that morning.
Ernest’s photograph beside the window.
“No.”
Austin went quiet.
“I mean… not yet.”
“Mom—”
“I love you, Austin.”
His voice cracked.
“I love you too.”
“But loving you doesn’t mean living for you.”
He began crying.
I let him.
Sometimes tears were the first honest thing someone had left.
May you like
“I’ll see you when I’m ready,” I said.
Then I hung up.
