like to propose a toast.” We raise our glasses, letting her say her piece. “Cancer sucks,” she laughs, flipping her middle finger oh-so-discreetly at the invisible beast that was her cancer. Her spunky attitude is one I admire so much; it’s the same one I see mirrored in Owen.
He laughs, adding, “Sure does, Mom. Hear, hear.” He raises his glass, thinking that’s the end of her speech.
“I’m not done,” she chides, shooting him a rueful look. “So, like I said, cancer sucks, but I kicked its ass!” Her smile could light up the night sky. Reaching over next to me, I squeeze Owen’s hand in mine. He grins broadly at his mom, his eyes shining with all the emotion he feels for her. “Today marks six months of being cancer free and I couldn’t be happier.”
We both wait for her to clink her glass to ours, not wanting to cut her short. “This is the perfect way to celebrate, Mom.” Owen’s voice is filled with love and appreciation.
“There’s no one else I’d rather spend my birthday with.” Her voice is sweet and kind as she smiles at me. “And you’re not so bad either,” she adds jokingly, looking at Owen.
“Very funny,” he rolls his eyes, taking his pinot noir from the waiter.
We engage in small chat through most of the meal. Of course Owen talks animatedly about this season’s harvest and the latest in the construction. After our plates are cleared, Celia clears her throat once more, letting us know she has something important to tell us.
“So for my birthday…” her voice turns youthful and fun as she folds her napkin before placing on the table.
“Oh that’s right,” Owen fumbles, pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket. Sliding it across to her, he’s ridiculously proud of his ‘Over the Hill’ card, the one I told him was lame.
“Thanks, sweetie.” She pats the envelope lovingly, but doesn’t open it. “I got myself a gift,” she dangles that out there for a minute, making Owen’s brow crinkle in confusion. “I’m moving to Florida.”
Shock bathes over Owen, his fingers tightening around mine on his lap. “Where? When?” After a pause, he adds, “How?”
Celia takes a deep breath before diving into her explanation. “I knew you’d be concerned, but please hear me out. Aunt Dee-Dee has a condo in Florida. Since Uncle Andy passed away last year, she could use some company.”
Just as Owen is about to open his mouth in protest, I’m sure, Celia shushes him. “And now that you have Elle,” she looks over at me with gratitude and not an ounce of jealousy or meanness, “and the vineyard, you’re more than occupied.” Her voice carries her usual don’t-mess-with-me tone that I’ve come to love.
“Are you sure, Mom? I mean the doctors–” Celia’s agitated huff cuts Owen’s sentence in half.
“They say I’m fine. And they have doctors in Florida, too, you know?” She reaches for Owen’s hand as his fingers tap a crazy rhythm on the table. “Oh, honey, I know you’re worried, but I promise you, if there’s one single problem with my health, I’ll fly home in an instant. But I need this. Besides, it’s too cold up here anyway.”
After a brief moment of consideration, Owen concedes, pulling Celia’s hand up to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’re right, Mom. I’m sorry for questioning you. What can we do to help you?” That he said “we” and not “I” makes my heart flutter in my chest. Of course, having spent pretty much every moment together in the last seven months, we’ve been inseparable, but this is personal stuff; this is real life. And the fact that he’s chosen to include me in his, repeatedly, makes me love him even more.
“Nothing really. I just need you to take care of the house.”
Owen looks to me briefly, before answering Celia. “Of course, anything you need.” Squeezing his hand in mine once more, we both smile over at his mom as she shines with happiness at her newfound freedom.
“You okay with
He laughs, adding, “Sure does, Mom. Hear, hear.” He raises his glass, thinking that’s the end of her speech.
“I’m not done,” she chides, shooting him a rueful look. “So, like I said, cancer sucks, but I kicked its ass!” Her smile could light up the night sky. Reaching over next to me, I squeeze Owen’s hand in mine. He grins broadly at his mom, his eyes shining with all the emotion he feels for her. “Today marks six months of being cancer free and I couldn’t be happier.”
We both wait for her to clink her glass to ours, not wanting to cut her short. “This is the perfect way to celebrate, Mom.” Owen’s voice is filled with love and appreciation.
“There’s no one else I’d rather spend my birthday with.” Her voice is sweet and kind as she smiles at me. “And you’re not so bad either,” she adds jokingly, looking at Owen.
“Very funny,” he rolls his eyes, taking his pinot noir from the waiter.
We engage in small chat through most of the meal. Of course Owen talks animatedly about this season’s harvest and the latest in the construction. After our plates are cleared, Celia clears her throat once more, letting us know she has something important to tell us.
“So for my birthday…” her voice turns youthful and fun as she folds her napkin before placing on the table.
“Oh that’s right,” Owen fumbles, pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket. Sliding it across to her, he’s ridiculously proud of his ‘Over the Hill’ card, the one I told him was lame.
“Thanks, sweetie.” She pats the envelope lovingly, but doesn’t open it. “I got myself a gift,” she dangles that out there for a minute, making Owen’s brow crinkle in confusion. “I’m moving to Florida.”
Shock bathes over Owen, his fingers tightening around mine on his lap. “Where? When?” After a pause, he adds, “How?”
Celia takes a deep breath before diving into her explanation. “I knew you’d be concerned, but please hear me out. Aunt Dee-Dee has a condo in Florida. Since Uncle Andy passed away last year, she could use some company.”
Just as Owen is about to open his mouth in protest, I’m sure, Celia shushes him. “And now that you have Elle,” she looks over at me with gratitude and not an ounce of jealousy or meanness, “and the vineyard, you’re more than occupied.” Her voice carries her usual don’t-mess-with-me tone that I’ve come to love.
“Are you sure, Mom? I mean the doctors–” Celia’s agitated huff cuts Owen’s sentence in half.
“They say I’m fine. And they have doctors in Florida, too, you know?” She reaches for Owen’s hand as his fingers tap a crazy rhythm on the table. “Oh, honey, I know you’re worried, but I promise you, if there’s one single problem with my health, I’ll fly home in an instant. But I need this. Besides, it’s too cold up here anyway.”
After a brief moment of consideration, Owen concedes, pulling Celia’s hand up to his lips for a quick kiss. “You’re right, Mom. I’m sorry for questioning you. What can we do to help you?” That he said “we” and not “I” makes my heart flutter in my chest. Of course, having spent pretty much every moment together in the last seven months, we’ve been inseparable, but this is personal stuff; this is real life. And the fact that he’s chosen to include me in his, repeatedly, makes me love him even more.
“Nothing really. I just need you to take care of the house.”
Owen looks to me briefly, before answering Celia. “Of course, anything you need.” Squeezing his hand in mine once more, we both smile over at his mom as she shines with happiness at her newfound freedom.
“You okay with
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