Ancil“William.”
“If his last name is Shakespeare I will die,” I joked.
My mom laughed then said, “It’s Porter.”
“He sounds like a muggle. Where’d you meet him, under a staircase?” I joked.
“First of all, it’s Porter, not Potter and secondly he’s nothing close to muggle-like. He’s got the magic touch. He reminds me so much of your father.” She sighed.
“I guess that’s why you fell for him.”
“Is that wrong?” She asked, concerned.
“Here’s what I think. A dead person can’t make you happy. Only memories of them can. The living are the ones who give you the chance to make new memories.”
“So you won’t be mad if I bring him home tonight?”
“I’d be mad if you stayed home by yourself tonight and binge over Grey’s Anatomy or Desperate Housewives,” I said.
“Well I won’t be bringing him home tonight but it’s good to know that you won’t be mad if I ever did.”
“If he makes you happy, then you shouldn’t let anyone stop you from being with him, not even me.”
“Awww, that’s so sweet.”
I smiled as my mom planted a kiss on my forehead and walked off to her room saying that she was going to get ready for her date.
As she walked away, I started to think about what I told her. The advice was meant for her but I felt as if it was for me instead. It was like some supernatural entity used me to get to me. If someone makes you happy then you shouldn’t let anyone stop you from being with that person. That person for my mom was William Porter and that person for me was Kate Warren. Her father didn’t want me around her but I shouldn’t let that stop me from being with her. Right? It sounded like a great thought but being with her would mean putting my life at risk. Was Kate worth it? I loved her. Well, I told her that I loved her so based on the basic functionality of love, she should be worth it. However, there was doubt in my mind and it was scaring the crap out of me. It was scaring me because I found myself thinking twice about being with her when it should have been an easy decision. Maybe, I didn’t love her. Maybe, I just loved the idea of her. The idea that she was now the type of person that I could have called and talked to at any time without a special occasion to do so. Someone whom I could pop in and pop out. Maybe, Kate was just my waffle.
