"I think you’re misremembering, stop acting silly." A tight smile plastered itself to her lips. "I could never have said those things to you. "

"Oh am I?" I took a deep breath. "‘Dirty’, is what you called me, mom."

“Sweetheart, you just don't understand." She swirled the coffee in her mug, the café bustled around us. Inviting her here had been a huge mistake. "Could you blame me for being surprised? You were sixteen and very confused."

"I wasn’t...I'm not confused, mom. I love Greg, and he loves me." I looked down at my own cup of coffee. It had cooled unpleasantly. I continued worrying a napkin in my hands. "I don't know how many times I need to tell you that.”

"Well clearly you think so little of me." She snapped. "All I've done is try to love you and all you do is spurn me."

"I _do_ love you, mom. I'm just trying to clear the air and tell you how I feel." I tore a piece of the napkin. She blinked rapidly. "Look, I'm not trying to fight with you. I invited you here to tell you I'm leaving."

She gasped. "Leaving? Leaving to where?"

"Greg landed his residency in Portland, and I'm going with him."

"So you're abandoning me too?" Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "First your sister, and now you."

"Claire went to_ college,"_ I stressed. "That's what you wanted us to do, wasn't it? Just because she went out of state doesn't mean she abandoned you."

" But _you_ didn't go." she accused.

I ripped another corner from the napkin. "There's nothing wrong with going to tradeschool.” I countered. School had never really worked out for me, and mom threw that in my face whenever she could. She and dad had big dreams of us going the traditional white collar route, mostly through me joining the family firm after law school. But severe dyslexia had shot that horse in the face by the time I graduated high school (barely).

Still, I found I liked puzzles and working with my hands enough that I pursued certification as an electrician. Soon, I'd have my journeyman's license in hand and I'd be able to work for any developer I'd want. I was proud of that fact.

"I didn't say that—“ She began, but I cut her off.

"Exactly. It's what you didn't say." The napkin was in shreds on the table. " I don't blame you for loving me the way that you did, mom. But I can't also pretend that you didn't hurt me. And I needed to say that to you. I know I'm not the son you and dad wanted, but I'm still, for whatever reason, trying to make you proud. I'm getting tired, ma, and it's time I put Greg and I first."

She sat there, not speaking, not looking at me. Around us, the café chattered on. I could hear the steam wand of the espresso machine screeching loudly.

I took another deep breath. “Look. We leave at the end of the month. I would love it if we could all celebrate, you, dad, Greg, and I. We're having a go-away party at our place on the twenty-seventh. I'd love it if you both came."

"It doesn't really sound like you want us to." Her voice was clipped, and the tears had dried.

_On it goes..._ I thought morosely. I didn't want to keep going. "Okay, mom." I said gently. " I love you." I scooted my chair back and stood. Pulling my wallet from my back pocket, I dropped a twenty dollar bill onto the table. She made no move to stand, and so I dipped over and kissed her head. Turning, I strode to the door, the bell jngling as it closed behind me.