Page 59 of Undefeated

“My stomach feels funny. But you can’t fix it. Just go, I’ll be fine,” she responded.

I was glad that we decided to come see her mother now, long before the holidays. It might allow her to make the adjustments needed, which would allow her to see her family at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

“Well, here we are, house number 648,” I said as we pulled up to the front of the home.

She swallowed heavily.

“You alright?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she sounded like she had a frog in her throat.

“Babe, any time you’re ready to go just tell me so. I’m damn near as nervous as you,” I chuckled lightly.

She nodded.

“Who, babe? Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?” I asked.

She pointed to her chest and smiled, “I am.”

“Yes, babe. You are,” I said as I leaned over toward her seat and kissed her.

“Ready?” I asked.

She opened the door to the truck and got out.

I guess that means yes.

Kace was one of the most, if the absolute strongest women I have ever met. Kace was a true survivor. One hundred pounds of tough.

As I fumbled with the door handle, she stepped around to my side of the truck and waited. Finally, I opened the door, and stepped outside the truck.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I said as I held my arm out to my side.

After she attached herself to my arm, we walked up the sidewalk together to the front porch of the house. As I reached out to ring the buzzer, the door slowly opened.

“Oh dear Lord. The pictures didn’t do you any justice. Kace, you’re beautiful,” a woman said through the opened door. She was petite, blonde, and very pretty.

“Come in,” she said. As she held her arms out, they began to shake.

As we stepped inside the home, Kace immediately hugged her mother. Ten years of sorrow began to run down the cheeks of both women as they embraced. The sounds of sobbing muffled the sound of everything else.

“I’m sorry,” Kace sobbed as she wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

“No, baby. I’m so sorry. I never should have let you go,” her mother apologized as she began to cry uncontrollably.

I stepped to the side of the doorway, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. Seeing Kace crying like this was not easy for me. Seeing people cry, in general, was difficult for me, especially women. Feeling somewhat helpless, I found a chair and sat quietly as they stood and cried in each other’s arms. Slowly, I pulled my hood up over my head, and pressed the soft fabric into the sides of my face.

Eventually, they walked into the living room and sat down side-by-side on the couch. I sat and watched them exchange short embarrassed glances at each other as they covered their mouths and tried to stop crying. Eye makeup streamed down each of their faces.

“I missed you so much,” Kace sobbed.

“I missed you, Kace,” her mother whimpered as she leaned over and kissed Kace’s forehead.

Her mother stood, looked at me, back toward Kace, and sat down as if she were confused on what to do or how to digest the entire reunion. Overcome with emotion, her mind appeared to be having a difficult time deciding what the proper thing to do with a situation like this was. Not seeing or talking to your child in a decade, and then trying to start over as if nothing happened would be difficult at best.

“Oh God, this is too much, Kace. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack,” her mother said as she held her hand against her chest. Her breathing was short and choppy as she tried to control her sobbing.

“Mother, don’t say that,” Kace smiled and wiped her eyes as she spoke.