My dad drives me out to a park about 30 minutes from home. That's where my parents decided my mom and I would meet. They thought a neutral location would be best. Somewhere outside of town and away from prying eyes. It's weird. Them making decisions together. I haven't used the phrase "my parents" in so long, it feels foreign to me. I've gotten used to thinking about them as two separate entities, "my dad" and "my mom," but now, they're a unit again. For now or forever, God only knows.

The cynic in me questions how long it'll last. How long it'll be before she disappears again. Or if she'll bother to show up at all. There's so much I don't know, so much that I don't understand. Everything that happened in the past and everything that will happen in the future is so unclear. I'm hoping against all hope today is the day I'll finally get some answers.

"Your mother just texted me," my dad says. "She's there."

The anxiety and anticipation hits me. My breathing gets heavy as I try not to hyperventilate. The back of my throat dries up like a desert. My eyes dart to our GPS. Applewood Park. Next left. Holy shit. This is it.

"She is?"

"Yep. She's waiting for you, buddy. Are you ready?"

"Um," is all I can manage to get out.

I stare out the windshield, unblinking. We pull into the parking lot and I see her. She's there. Just like she said she was. She's really there.

"Matty?"

I don't answer. I'm in disbelief. This isn't happening, is it? This can't be real. This has to be some sort of dream. Hand to God, I never thought this day would come. I honestly believed with every fiber of my being I'd never see my mom again.

But there she is.

Sitting on a park bench alone.

"Matty?" My dad says again and shakes my shoulder.

"What?" I say somewhat alarmed, thinking something might be wrong. But then I realize, I'd been in a haze and he was breaking me out. "Oh, sorry. Nervous, I guess."

My dad pauses and looks me over with concern in his eyes. He's having second thoughts. Can't blame him though. So am I.
"You don't have to do this, you know. Say the word and I'll turn around right now."

For a brief second, I consider it, but I have no idea when, or if, I'll get this opportunity again. For all I know, a week from now, she could change her mind and decide this whole thing was a huge mistake.

"I'm good," I say to psych myself up. "I'm good. I'm ready. I can do this."

"You sure?"

"Definitely. I got this."

My dad smiles and gives my hair a ruffle.

"Proud of you, bud. Good luck, all right?"

I take a deep breath, put my hand on the door handle, and push it open. Here we go.

Somehow she looks exactly like I remember and not at all like I remember at the same time. Her long, curly brown hair is running wild and blowing in the wind. That I remember. That I could never forget. It's the same curly mop I see on Drew every day. And her bracelet. I remember her bracelet. A white and silver friendship bracelet my dad made her after he proposed. It was the only jewelry he could afford. Looking at it, sitting there on her wrist right where it'd been my entire life, it's like the past four years never happened.

But, they did. And the closer I look, the more it shows. She's wearing a blazer and heels. There's a leather briefcase at her feet. She's got a cup of coffee in one hand and the latest iPhone in the other. She looks more like she's heading to a business meeting than seeing her son.

It's not the mom I remember. Not at all. The mom I remember wore sweatpants and my dad's old t-shirts. She threw her hair in a messy bun as she ran out the door. She left bobby pins strewn all over the house and ate Oreos by the sleeve.
Seeing her looking so different, but yet so similar makes me wonder whether I ever knew the real her. Who is this woman sitting five feet away? It's about damn time I find out.

I gather all the courage I have and walk over to her. Her back is facing me, so she doesn't see me. She doesn't know I'm standing right behind her. There's still time for me to turn back....

No. I won't. I have to do this.

"Um," I say weakly. I've never been more nervous in my life. "Hey, Mom."

She turns around and seems just as surprised to see me as I am to see her.

"Matty," she says and quickly moves the briefcase aside. "Please, sit down."

Quietly and slowly, I ease myself onto the bench next to her. I'm hesitant to say anything and so is she. My eyes flicker between looking her in the eyes and down at my feet. I can feel her doing the same. She's struggling to find the words too. God, this is so hard. All the years I spent wishing I could talk to her and now that she's sitting right next to me, I can't seem to get a single word out.

"Do you, uh, do you drink coffee?" She asks, breaking the silence.

You'd think it'd be easy to answer a question like that. A simple yes or no. But the casual politeness of it catches me off guard. It's like she's meeting a new coworker for the first time or making small talk with the person next to her in line at the grocery store. It hits me. While she was busy changing, so was I, and she doesn't know the person I am today either.

"Because, I, um, got you something."

She reaches behind her and pulls out a paper coffee cup. She holds it out to me with a hopeful, yet nervous smile. I look at it, confused as to what this is supposed to be. Some sort of peace offering?

"I don't really..."

Her shoulders sink in disappointment and she shakes her head. I hear her mutter under her breath, but I can't quite catch what she says. Reading between the lines, I can tell she's hurt and maybe feeling a bit rejected. In a way it feels like karma. After all, she made me feel the exact same way for years. I should feel validated, satisfied that she feels the way I felt, but more than anything it just makes me sad. In spite of everything, I still care about her. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here.

"I could give it a try, though."

The smile returns to her face and she straightens back up. Her excitement builds as I take the cup from her hands and bring it to my lips.

"Trust me, you're gonna love it."

She says it with a level of confidence that I don't understand. I haven't got the slightest clue what she could be basing her assumption on. She doesn't know what I like. Not anymore, anyway. But she's smiling at me like she knows me so well and there's no possible way she could be wrong. It makes me skeptical, but I told her I'd try it, so I do. I take the tiniest sip and dammit, she was right. She was so right. I do like it. I like it a lot.

"Shoot, that's good."

"I knew you'd like it," she says with a satisfied smile.

I know that smile all too well. It's the smile she gave me every time she convinced me to try something new. She'd beg me to just try it, just one little taste, that's it, one little taste. I'd swear to hell and back I wouldn't like it, but in the end, she'd get me to give in every time without fail. And every time without fail, she'd be right. I'd like it.
God, the memories make it so much harder. We're barely five minutes in and already I understand exactly what my dad was feeling when he said he couldn't be mad at her. Hating the ghost of her is easy, but loving the real person in front of me is even easier.

I can't take this any longer. I need to know. I need to know why she left.