Page 7 of A Lot Like Lavender

Rolling my eyes, I stand to wrap her up in a one-sided hug, mindful of the forty-pound cat currently digging his claws into my T-shirt. “Hey, Mama. Missed you.”

“Hey, baby.” She takes the cat from my arms in a practiced, one-handed grip that’s honestly impressive consideringthe size of the beast. I wonder if she’s been working out recently. “And hello, Mr. Gus Gus. Do you have some excessive gas we need to take care of today?”

Mr. Gus yowls again in the affirmative, then begins ministrations against my mother’s neck as she coos and coerces him to the examination table, her voice going up an octave and quickly transitioning intobaby talkterritory.

“You’re such a handsome boy, aren’t you?” She rubs her face against his, speaking Gus’ love language with what is, in my professional opinion, excessive allorubbing, and some good old-fashioned praise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

She pauses, turning her head only slightly so that she’s still skin-to-fur with the old man on the table, whose head also tilts in my direction but looks only more irritated at the interruption to his attention.

Pointing a finger at my chest, I say, “Who? Me?”

The tech giggles behind her clipboard, hiding the slight blush filling her cheeks.

“Of course, baby. I thought you were getting in tomorrow.”

“I hopped an earlier flight.” I shrug, leaning against a free wall to watch her work. Observing Mom in her element is a core memory of mine. The pet dander on her scrubs and scent of animals on her coat are as formidable to my upbringing as books at bedtime and prayers said round the dinner table.

Her hands begin to roam over Gus’ belly, soft and unassuming at first, but then quickly evolving into an examination. Unwrapping the stethoscope from around her neck, she listens to various places along his abdomen then flips between addressing the cat, her tech, and me, intermittently. “Is someone constipated? Possible bowel obstruction.Will need a quick ultrasound to confirm. Grace, this is my son, Jordan. He’s been practicing all over the Southeast for years, but he’s home now.”

Mom smiles down at the cat’s round belly, but I know it’s reserved for me. This move, returning to Honey Hill, has been a long time coming and something my parents have prayed for since I left.

Grace, the vet tech, smiles and stretches out her hand for mine. “It’s so nice to meet you. We’ve been looking forward to having you join the practice, Dr. Rafferty.”

“It’s Dr. Love,” Mom corrects. “Jordan’s daddy was my late husband, Paul. Perfect last name though, huh? Drives the girls crazy.” She winks at me, then continues, “And we’ll need a temp on him.”

Grace raises a curious eyebrow.

Mom smiles, rubbing her fingers along each of Gus’ claws as she inspects him further. “For Gus… not Jordan.”

Glad she made that clarification.

“We’re gonna stick a thermometer up your butt, Gus Gus.” She smushes her nose against the cat’s, and her voice takes on a new, implausible level of cartoon character. The poor guy meows affectionately, clearly unaware of what’s in store for him. “I’m so sorry, my gorgeous, ginger king. Grace is gonna do the honors, though, so you and I can still be friends, okay? Be nice to her. She’s new.”

Grace smiles, apparently already used to Mom’s brand of medicine, and stretches her hand across Gus’ back to steady him as my mother removes her face from his.

“We don’t need to be here for this,” she says, washing her hands.

“You sure?” I make my way towards the swinging door leading to the waiting area. “Seems like you two have quite the connection.”

Gus screeches as the door closes behind us.

She swats at me but follows me out, pulling me into her arms again just outside the waiting room. “You are a sight for sore eyes, love. Why didn’t you tell me you’d be here early?”

Hugging Mom is a full-body affair. She’s significantly shorter than me, and half the general population, but she hugs with all her strength. It’s probably one of the things I’ve missed most about being away over the years. Call me a mama’s boy, but there have been too many hard days, missed holidays, and day-to-day comings and goings where I wished I were closer. Wished I could pop in for exactly this.

A good bear hug from my mama always felt like it could heal a world of hurts. And now, after going so long without, I feel like I’ll need more of these to help knit all the pieces of me that have stayed torn for longer than I care to admit.

“I let Bill know. He said I should surprise you.”

With perfect timing, my stepfather enters the waiting room carrying a Chihuahua in his arms. He delivers the dog to his owner, passes off some information to the receptionist, then turns his attention to me. “Son,” he says softly, eyes immediately glistening with tears.

“Hey, Bill.”

Though only an inch or two taller than Mom, the aura around Bill is massive. He’s a strong, but soft teddy bear. Firmly in touch with his emotions and, more impressively, my mom’s, and he’s always looked at me exactly the way he is right now. Like I belong to him.

Bill’s hug is long lasting and filled with his sniffling against my shoulder until Mom gives him her signature pat on the back, indicating his allocated affection time is up.

Save it for the obese cats, Bill.