Page 101

“You’re awake. I’m awake.” It’s what she used to say to me when I was little, and she caught me sneaking around the house in the middle of the night.
You’re awake. I’m awake.
She’d make me chamomile tea. Sit with me. Talk to me. Let me tell her what was on my mind, even when what was on my mind was well beyond her comprehension. Even though what came out of my mouth probably scared the shit out of her and confused her half the time.
She was my best friend—until I realized that it wasn’t normal for a twelve-year-old boy to call his mom his best friend. That’s when I settled on Ryan. He was around my age. The other kids liked him. He was reasonably intelligent. Loyal. Liked baseball. Being around him didn’t make me want to shove a screwdriver in my ear. As far as I was concerned, he was perfect best friend material.
“I’m not a kid anymore.” I fish a tea bag out of the box and drown it with hot water from the kettle on the stove. “You don’t have to get up and take care of me.”
“It was never a have to,” she says, watching me slide into the seat across from her. “And you’re right. You’re not a kid. You’re my kid and you’re under my roof.” The corner of her mouth kicks up, showing me the dimples she passed down to me and my brother. “So, drink your tea and tell me what’s on your mind.”
I tell her everything. Or, a PG-rated version of everything. That Henley came back to Boston looking for me. That she’s leaving again in a few weeks. That she’s getting married and why.
That I love her.
That she says she loves me.
That she’s never going to choose me and that I know it’s going to destroy me when she leaves.
“Lydia did a real number on her,” my mom says before taking a sip of her tea. “Ryan too.”
Lydia. I’ve always known that it was Henley’s mom’s name, but I’ve never heard it said out loud. “I didn’t know you knew her that well.” I knew she and Tess’s mom were close, but I’ve never heard her talk about Henley’s mom before. Not even to gossip about her like the other neighborhood moms.
“Lydia, Sophie, and I were inseparable in college.” She looks up at me, her blue eyes heavy and sad. “She latched onto Jack right away. He was a few years older. Here on a baseball scholarship. Already being scouted by the major leagues. He got an offer from the Dodgers in the middle of his junior year and Lydia talked him into quitting school and taking it. Taking her with him. She saw him as her way out.” She sets her mug down, and sighs. “I’m almost positive she got pregnant with Ryan on purpose.” Her lip curls in disgust. “She came back to visit once when he was little. She called him her little insurance policy,” she says, her mouth tight, eyes narrowed. “Three months later, Jack blew out his arm and they were back, living with her mother.” She takes a drink from her mug before setting it down again. “Their relationship was always volatile but after it became obvious Jack was never going to recover, things went from bad to worse.”
I think about Jack O’Connell, the only father Henley has ever known. The shroud of bitterness he lives under. Her mother. How cold she was when I knew her. How calculating. Her children, nothing more than burdens to be dragged around. Leverage to be applied. Never wanted. Never loved.
Not really.
“I think Henley loves you, son—I do.”
I look up to find my mom watching me, the expression on her face caught somewhere between fear and sadness. “I’m just don’t think anyone’s ever showed her how.”