The Milestone Tapes (37 page)

“Everything is going to change.”

“Some things are going to change, you’re right about that ... but not everything,” Sophia came around the counter and brushed a piece of hair behind Mia’s ear. “Focus on the good things about this. You like Kris, and from what I’ve heard, she’s going to be a wonderful additional to your life.”

“I don’t want anything to change, I like my life.” Mia pulled a face, grumbling.

“Mia, sweetheart, life is full of change. You don’t have to exactly like it, but that’s how things work. Look at all the changes that, regardless of your Dad and Kris, are coming for you—college, marriage, a career? You can’t stand still just because it’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts. Life changes all the time. You have to roll with it, girlfriend.” Sophia kissed the top of Mia’s head and wandered back to fixing the chicken.

Mia hopped off the stool and went into her room. She put away the jacket Sophia had given her, the books and sweaters and jeans and the rest of her Christmas haul which had been left on the floor for the past few days. She yanked back the covers on her bed and crawled beneath the familiar sheets in her familiar bed in her forever room. It hadn’t changed in all the years she’d lived there, she still had the bed her mother picked out, the same overly washed, soft lavender sheets. The same child sized white wooden desk with. Her built in book cases still displayed the piggy bank her mother painted and the books her mother had read to her, Mia had added her mother’s books years ago, but never took anything away. Even the pictures, childish scenes of simple sail boats and wild flowers, hung on the wall, they had survived despite being sorely outdated.

She didn’t want to move to Seattle, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Ginny or friends or her school or her house, with its familiar rooms and nooks. But, at the same time, she couldn’t imagine Kris living here either. Mia couldn’t envision Kris’s clothes hanging in her mother closet, or Kris taking down her mother’s art to hang her photos. She couldn’t conceive a balance between these two worlds and yet she knew that they would somehow have to blend now, swirl together and change everything.

But change comes.

Kris and Gabe sat across from Mia at the kitchen table, looking serious and thoughtful, a large diamond set low in a thick gold band twinkled on Kris’s finger.

“Mia, we want to discuss ... changes,” Gabe launched, taking Kris’s hand in his own. “We both work in Seattle, and we think that it would make more sense to consider ... relocating ... there.”

“That’s not what my Mom wanted, she wanted me to be raised here, in this home—not in Seattle,” Mia challenged, glaring at her father.

“Mia, you’ll be leaving for college in another year. And regardless, I wouldn’t have kept this house, it way too big for me by myself with you gone,” Gabe released Kris’s hand and refolding his neatly in front of himself.

“So, stay until I go to college,” Mia threw her hands up, shaking her head. It seemed reasonable; Gabe had been commuting to Seattle for years without ever so much as a simper. Now, in the home stretch, he wanted to move.

“I think it would be easier if we at least entertained the thought of moving to Seattle—for everyone,” Gabe added for good measure.

“This is my home, Dad,” Mia pled, glancing at Kris who was looking down, not meeting her eyes.

Kris and Gabe had gotten engaged shortly after New Years. They celebrated with champagne and passed Mia a glass, toasting to love and life and the future. Mia had hugged Kris and congratulated them both, grappling with a feeling of dread.

Kris had become a regular at the Chamberland home. Flitting in and out, flying away for business and coming back tanned and exhausted. She was busy planning their wedding, somewhere warm and tropical where they served drinks with umbrellas and skewers of cherries, a place Mia couldn’t pronounce and couldn’t find on her desk globe.

And yet, all of that was fine. Mia wasn’t so much bothered by the remarriage, or Kris, or Kris’s things, she just didn’t want to leave her home.

“You’ll be just fine in Seattle. You can finish out your junior year. We won’t ask you to leave now.”

“And what about Ginny?” Mia glared at her father.

Ginny. Her Ginny. The closest thing she had to a mother, her true best friend in the world, the woman who considered her her own.

“I never planned on letting Ginny go,” Gabe sighed. “I figured I’d offer a place in the city and a ticket home for her weekend if she felt like going.”

“And what if she doesn’t? What if she doesn’t want to leave Port Angeles and move to accommodate you two?” Mia lowered her eyes, wagging her finger between the two adults sitting across from her.

“You’re old enough to take care of yourself. Besides, if you’re in the city, I’ll be around more—no more commuting,” Gabe offered, as if that solved all their problems.

“And what about you, Kris?” Mia squared her glare on her. “What’s your take on this?”

Kris just shook her head slowly back and forth, her long blond hair swishing softly around her face. Unreadable. Mia wondered idly if it was in disagreement or resignation or something more, disappointment, maybe.

“Mia!” Gabe boomed, half standing up his hands pressing into the table, leaning forward.

“What, Dad? She’s part of this—right?” Mia flung her hand at Kris, challenging him to declare otherwise.

“You will not be disrespectful. Do you understand me?” he continued, his voice raised just below officially yelling.

“How am I being disrespectful? I only asked her a question ... and I’m not the one yelling.” Mia sat back, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You know what I mean, Mia, it’s not nice—and, more to the point, that’s not how I raised you.” His tone was still threatening, his eyes flashed with anger.

“Okay, how’s this, Dad? Kris, pray tell, what are your feelings on this matter?” Mia asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm and saccharine.

“I can see both sides. But, yes, I agree with your father, I think, logistically, it makes more sense for us all to be in the same city instead of jetting all over the place,” Kris finally spoke, softly and unsure.

“Oh surprise, surprise,” Mia slumped further into her chair.

“That’s it Mia, go to your room!” Gabe leapt to his feet, smashing his fist on the table. “Go! Now! Out of my sight—and when you can be decent, we’ll finish this discussion.”

Mia rolled her eyes dramatically and sauntered from the room. Mia knew the discussion was over before it started, the decision was made. Two against one never really worked out for the underdog.

Mia pressed her ear against the door listening to what was being said in her absence.

“Oh Gabe, I don’t want her to hate me.” Kris sounded like she was crying.

“She’s a teenager Kris, she’s going to hate you—but it’s like a storm, it blows over. Let her cool down and think about this without the hysterics.” Gabe sounded calm again, rational and smooth, unfazed which bothered Mia.

Mia could hear chairs being pushed in, and the sound of foot falls as they passed by her door, off to their shared bedroom.

“Fuck you, Dad,” Mia whispered. Her feelings weren’t some worthless storm, this wasn’t something that blew over. This was her life, her whole life.

Frantically, Mia grabbed for her cell phone, and scrolling through her contacts she found Sophia’s number and hit send. It was late in North Carolina, but Mia new Sophia would still be tending to her store.

“Hello?”

“Aunt Soph?”

“Oh, Mia, hi honey, what's up?” Sophia chimed, her voice a sing-song tone.

“We’re moving,” Mia breathed.

“What?” Sophia’s voice pitched up an octave.

“Yeah, to Seattle ... this summer,” Mia spat the words like a curse, dirty and disgusting.

“No!” Sophia tone sounded disbelieving.

“This summer, Aunt Soph. So we can all be together, logistically speaking,” Mia imitated Kris’s voice perfectly.

“That’s not very nice Mia. You shouldn’t mock her,” Sophia tsked her quietly.

“What am I going to do?” Mia felt like crying, the unspent tears burned behind her eyes.

“You’re going to be fine sweetheart, no matter what, no matter where you live.” Sophia was still quiet, her voice was calm and reflective.

“I don’t want this,” Mia whispered.

“I know honey. You know what I think you should do? You should listen to your Mom’s tape,” Sophia urged.

Mia looked towards the box; she hadn’t wanted to listen to that tape. She hadn’t wanted any of this. A girlfriend was one thing, a wife was another, but her mother wanted her to be prepared for this.

“Okay,” Mia wiped away a stray tear.

“You call me if you need anything, okay honey?”

“Okay, thanks Aunt Soph.”

“Remember, you’re a good girl ... Be respectful, none of that snarky mocking stuff—okay?”

“Got it,” Mia clicked the off button.

Mia, this is probably the hardest tape for me. To think about your father, meeting and marrying another woman—that’s very, very hard for me. But the truth is, I love him enough to want that for him. Your father has been an amazing husband, a good, solid partner—he was my very best friend and the person I was closest to in this world. And for those reasons, I want him to happy, I want him to have a full life surrounded by people who love him. And that may seem strange to you—but I know, had things been different, he would have wanted the same for me.

When I met your Dad, from the first night, I knew he was it for me. The one. That was my future, where my life was going. And, we had the most amazing life together. We had the years of being just Gabe and Jenna, living in the city—he was designing, I was writing—and those days were good. Then we moved to Port Angeles and we had you. And as much as I loved him before, which was a lot, that multiplied by a thousand. I watched him love you and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was the luckiest woman in the whole world. Not only was he a good man but he was a good husband, not only was he a good husband but he was a good father. And I know he felt the same way about me, that he loved me, and that he cherished our marriage and our family and our time together.

If you’re listening to this tape that means your father has met someone. It means he’s going to get married and start a life with someone new, someone whom he loves. And to me, that’s a wonderful thing. When I was dying, I worried about you, naturally, you were just a little girl and you needed so much guidance—but I also worried about your father. I didn’t want him to shoulder the responsibility of raising you alone, I didn’t want him to be alone, period. I wanted your Dad to be happy again, even if that meant with someone else. I wanted him to have a partner, someone to experience life with, someone who will love him—someone he can love in return. And that wish was as much for you as it was for him. I want you to have a mother. I know you have Ginny and Aunt Sophia, but I wanted something more for you. Someone you can go to with questions, someone always be in your corner, someone to help you plan your wedding and decorate your first place, someone you’ll count among your best friends. A good rule of thought is to know that you can never be loved by too many people.

I don’t want you to feel like, with your father getting married, she’s taking my place. I’m your mother. No one, no matter what, can take that away. But, she can be your friend. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being disloyal to me by welcoming her into your family. And if you love her, you shouldn’t feel guilty about that. You should know that that would have done my heart good. If you don’t always see eye to eye, try. If it’s hard—try harder. Remember to always be respectful and kind, no matter what. Remember that this woman means a lot to your Dad—so try. And if you just don’t like her, which I hope is only a worst case scenario and not the truth—keep in mind, there is good in everyone, sometimes you have to look harder for it, but it’s there.

This may be the hardest relationship of your life. It might require compromise on your part; it may require you to dig deep. But like with everything in life, if you're open to the experience, you may take away something precious from it.

I’m sure having a step mom isn’t the easiest thing in the world, not matter how you feel about her, but I’d like to believe that means there’s just one more person loving you.

I love you.

~ * * * ~

“Kris?” Mia walked into the kitchen where Kris was sitting, a newspaper laid out in front of her.

“Yes?” Kris lifted her eyes, they look slightly raw around the edges and Mia felt a sick pit of guilt opening up.

“Do you have a minute?” Mia clasped her hands in front of her, feeling embarrassed by her outburst in the morning light.