Jason never had the greatest relationship with his mother in a family of seven children, but he always counted on her acceptance of his sexuality. Which he received, if rather coldly.
Years passed between them never quite mending the rift between them. After his mother’s death, Jason contemplates their relationship on a plane to Connecticut with his husband Manny. What does her gift to them mean for their future?
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“Should have made the effort,” I mumbled. I had a mostly untouched glass of wine on the tray in front of me.
“You didn’t know she was sick.”
“I knew she wasn’t young though. You think you have all the time in the world.”
Manny patted my leg. “But you don’t.”
“No. And you never got to meet her. I should have made that happen.”
“You can tell me all about her. As you already have.”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as much as it was possible in an upright airplane seat, anyway. “I can’t believe she left us the townhouse.”
“She wanted you to have the place, I guess. You did say you told her how much you liked it when you were there.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But ... she’s got six other children. Well. Five now.” I’d almost forgotten my sister, Moira, had died of breast cancer six years earlier. How could I forget something like that? A lump formed in my throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how much I tried to swallow.
“Have some wine,” Manny said, gently.
I lifted the glass, took a sip. “Should we sell it and divide the money?”
“Your brothers and sisters said they didn’t want you to do that.”
“I know, but ... maybe that’s fair.”
“I don’t think she wanted you to sell it, Jase.” Manny’s smile soothed me. “And they all said they were fine with you getting the place. She left all of your things she thought each would appreciate.”
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