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“It is very busy. And the artwork on the walls is special.”

“Do you recognize any of the pieces? Shade, the owner of Into The Shade, did all of them. But soon, Bryce’s work will be up there too. If I have anything to do with it, at least.”

Mom turns back to the wall and the frames, staring intently at each one. She points to one with a perfectly manicured fingernail.

“That one is my Bryce.”

Surprised, I focus on the piece she’s pointed out. It’s one I usually forget I have. A neck of a guitar that’s been smashed on one end. It’s small, hardly three inches long, and fits into the collection of random art on my right bicep.

“And that one,” she adds, spine straight with pride.

It’s the snowflake Shade put behind my ear four years ago.

“How did you know that?” I ask.

She smiles sadly. “That is your ear.”

My chest feels too tight. I grip Daisy’s hand and stare at my mother, seeing too much of her heart exposed for the first time in years.

Daisy moves forward and starts gesturing to the rest of the frames that my body is featured in, explaining what the designs are and the meanings of some of the harder-to-understand ones. The woman who raised me, the same one who didn’t show a single ounce of care about my passion for art, listens intently to my girlfriend, as if she genuinely wants to learn everything.

I don’t know what to make of that. It feels sudden, but in reality, it’s been three months. Could she actually have spent that time trying to better herself?

“That one is my favourite,” she declares.

I look to the end of the pointed finger, and a slight smile curls my lips.

“It’s mine too,” I tell her.

My forearm is already exposed as I offer it to her and wait for her eyes to fall on the tattoo. It healed perfectly and is, without a doubt, my most popular piece. I’ve caught myself staring at it more times than I can count.

“Un champ de marguerites,” she whispers before glancing up at my girlfriend. “A field of daisies.”

The translation she offers shocks me more than the warmth in her tone.

A sheen moves over her eyes as she keeps them on Daisy. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

Instead of answering the question, Mom focuses on me. “Will you come over for supper next week? Both of you.”

“Will Dad be there too?” I ask, rubbing my palm over my sternum. We’ve talked, but I don’t think our relationship will ever be anything special, as sad as that was to admit to myself.

“Yes, yes, he can be. Hewillbe. And there will be no fish.”

Daisy giggles near silently beside me, and I pull our hands up to replace the one I was using to rub my chest.

“Okay. We can come,” I say.

Mom sucks in a relieved breath and clasps her hands. “I will call you with details?”

“Sure.”

“For now, could you show me more of this place? I would like to meet this Shade.”

I don’t know if I can take any more surprises. My head swims with the effects of her genuine efforts. Yet, my heart is fuller than ever.

Daisy leans into my side and watches me and my mother with pride and relief. Like she’s been hoping for something like this to happen just as much as I was.

It’s too early to let bygones be bygones, but the effort is there,at least for today. That seems to be good enough for me right now.

With my girlfriend beside me, I take another look around the studio and ignore the burn behind my eyes. There’s so much light in my life, and somehow, it grows brighter every fucking day.

I have Daisy to thank for helping me see it.

“Yeah, Mom. I think it’s time you properly met my family.”