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Home Before Love, By: Andrew Cyr

April 11, 2024 by Andrew Cyr

Home Before Love, By: Andrew Cyr

The cloud-shrouded moon
cast serene shadows.
Nancy cut the headlights
as we approached
the country road
to my parents’ home.
The kitchen light was on,
but the living room light was off.
The white paint and blue trim
screamed attention.
Mom wasn’t on the porch swing.
A sign I was cool with.
I helped her new husband
complete the oak-built porch
over the summer.
The tires crunched over gravel.
Nancy parked beneath a maple tree.
Our eyes met.
She leaned across the seat.
I met her lips, and our kiss melted
the tension in our shyness.
I reached to tuck strands
of her long, red hair
behind her ear.
Nancy’s green eyes danced with sparkles.
She cupped my cheeks
and sighed.
I broke free. “I got to go.”
“Okay,” Nancy said. “Be careful, my first love.”
“I love you.” I winked.
I exited the car and shuffled
to the freshly trimmed hedges.
I spread the branches and peered
at the kitchen window.
Mom or Eric, her new husband,
was doing dishes.
I followed shadows
along the yard’s edge.
I was late again.
I was still in hot water
for breaking curfew last week,
but Nancy had a hold
on my love, and I needed
an addictive fix, injected
as a kiss, a long liplock
would do the trick.
My homework partner
wasn’t who I told Mom it was.
Mom would have me by the throat,
interrogating the perfume
mixed with my cologne out of me.
The lipstick stains
on my neck, which she used against me.
I was my own worst target
bullseye on my back.
I lied, but my eyes couldn’t
follow as I swallowed hard.
I said goodbye inside,
because Mom had it in her
to murder me because the only lesson
that I never learned was falling
for Nancy was dangerous
to my health.
I crawled through my bedroom window.
Mom flipped the light on.
I shrieked.
“What’s with you and Nancy?” Mom said, grabbing a fistful of my shirt.
“This isn’t like you, Mom!”
Mom sighed and released my shirt. “I’m sorry.”
She returned her hands to her sides.
“I was your age once,” Mom said.
I arched a brow. “This isn’t the birds and bees talk, is it?”
Mom sat beside me. “I was in love before your father died.”
“High school?” I said. I reached my arm around Mom’s shoulder.
Mom lowered her chin; her eyes followed. “His mom didn’t like me much.”
“Dad died five years ago, but you’re remarried.”
Mom moved her hand to my forearm. “And I’m happy. I am.”
“What is it then?”
“You never forget your first love.” Mom cleared her throat. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“We fall,” I said, “but we push ourselves up.”
“I taught you well.” Mom smiled. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re dying too.”
“You wish!” Mom teased. “Besides,” she nudged me, “what would you do without me?”
“You were saying?” I didn’t want another dead parent.
“Nancy,” Mom said. “That’s her name, right?”
I narrowed one eye. “How’d you know?”
“That’s not important.” Mom waved my concern away.
“But it is for me.”
“You are seventeen, not eighteen.”
“Mom, I’m in love with her,” I said like a hostage, pleading with their captor for release.
“Love?” Mom hugged me. “Oh, honey.” She kissed my head like I was five years old. “You’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Maybe you taught me well,” I said. “About love, maybe you taught me well.”
“I think we both taught each other a lot.”
“How do you mean?” I said.
“Your father cheated a year before he died.”
“And?”
“Well, I’m ashamed to say it.” Mom brushed away tears. “I hated him for a while.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But you were still here, and you softened my heart so that I could fall in love again.”
“We should have Nancy over,” I said.
“I already invited Nancy and her mother over on Friday.”
I smiled.
Mom patted my back. “Now, get some rest.”
Mom pushed herself up and headed to the door.
“How’d you know?”
“People talk in a small town.”
I plopped my head on the pillow
and placed my hands behind my head.
Mom twisted the knob and cracked the door. “And next time, maybe don’t date my college friend’s daughter.” She laughed and shut the door.

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