I returned to our rented place temporarily while we worked through the arrangements.
Melissa, who had witnessed Ashley’s complaints at the wedding, contacted me once to ask whether we could reconcile. I told her that was a decision for Ashley and me. She didn’t call again.
Mom never demanded that I divorce Ashley.
She never celebrated when I told her my decision.
She only asked whether I’d eaten.
Some things about her, I supposed, would never change.
One Saturday morning, I found Mom at Bennett Freight before seven.
She was in the maintenance building, talking to a driver whose refrigerated trailer had developed an electrical fault.
I waited while she helped him arrange a replacement unit.
When she finished, she noticed me.
“Nathan. You’re early.”
“I thought I’d take you to breakfast.”
She glanced toward the loading docks.
“I’ve got paperwork.”
“It can wait forty-five minutes.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That’s a dangerous thing to say around here.”
I smiled.
“Then I’ll help you finish it afterward.”
She considered the offer.
“All right.”
We walked toward the parking lot.
Mom was wearing jeans, work boots, and a faded Bennett Freight jacket.
There was grease on one sleeve.
Her hair had begun to turn completely gray.
She looked nothing like the wealthy businesswoman Ashley had imagined should wear expensive clothes and drive a luxury car.
But as we crossed the yard, people stopped to greet her.
A mechanic asked about her knee.
A dispatcher reminded her about a retirement party.
One of the younger drivers thanked her for helping arrange time off when his daughter was born.
