The Bright Side of Disaster

by Katherine Center

“Jenny,” my father said, “we’re thrilled. We never thought you’d do it.” “Don’t speak for me,” my mother hissed. “Jenny,” my father started over. “I, myself alone, never thought you’d do it.” “You didn’t?” “Being your mother’s daughter, I figured you’d repel men like Deet on a mosquito.” My mother glared at him.

Months later, it would occur to me to wonder if a person should thank another person for something she’d had to beg for. Wasn’t the begging itself thanks enough?

Looking back, it’s funny to think how easy it is to be sure of yourself when you have no idea what you’re doing.

“I’ve ruined him!” I said. “He’s ruined because I couldn’t hack it.” “Darlin’,” she said kindly. “He’s not ruined yet. You’ve got his whole childhood to ruin him.”

“It’s not how you wanted it, but it’s how it is,” she said in her tenderest voice. “In truth,” she added, “much of mothering is that way.”

It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, but it was how it was.

Then I said, “Five years is a long time.” He agreed. “You need to get back out there,” I said. “It’s a waste of a good man.” “When are you going to get back out there?” he asked. “Never,” I said. “But women like me are a dime a dozen.”

“Everybody is heartbroken,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. That’s life. Get out there and shake a tail feather.”

“Does he have any kind of a chance?” “Well,” she said, “I once loved him so much that I climbed out my bedroom window to neck with him behind the gazebo in Granny and Grandpa’s yard. So he has that going for him.” She was lost in thought for a minute, remembering. And, I thought, even the sassiest of us couldn’t resist getting a little bit hopeful about love.

The truth is, once people have been in your heart, it’s hard to keep them out. It was like he had a key. Even though I hated him, I couldn’t seem to treat him like other people.

“But please trust me when I tell you that no man at all is better than a bad man like that.”

“He just didn’t turn out to be the person I’d hoped for,” she said. She came over and hugged me as those tears spilled over. “But he did turn out to be a good daddy to you.”

“It’s not possible that he doesn’t like you,” Claudia said. “A man does not build a porch for a woman he doesn’t like.”

If she could talk to me now, I felt sure she’d tell me to be more grateful. For Maxie. For my shop. For good things like ice cream and hot showers and sunlight, but also even for things like traffic and mosquitoes and heartbreak. I knew if she were back on my fridge, gazing at me like she used to, she’d be telling me not to let one wrong thing ruin everything else.

And that’s when he put his hand in my hair and pulled me into the kind of kiss you can only get from a man who’s run at least four stop signs to see you. And I was grateful. For all the things that had brought me to this moment, and for every single thing that would follow.