Page 81 of What's in a Kiss?

“What do we know about this Silver?” I ask.

“Silver’s not your problem,” Jake says. “This is about you and your mom. Do whatever you can to tune Silver’s false positivity out.”

“Oh God, this is really bad.”

Instead of a house, they pull into a parking lot. Is this the studio where they record their show?

“Mom,” I call as she gets out of her car. I say it again, louder and more desperately. “Mom.”

She whirls around, her eyes bright and so familiar on mine. I’m dying to run into her arms, but I manage to hold back. And it’s a good thing I do. Because even though there’s a moment of true love and joy on her face—it quickly twists into something else. Something I’ve never seen on her before, something I never fathomed could exist. Lorena is not happy to see me.

“What areyoudoing here?” Silver asks. “An unwelcome presence is a cancer on the world.”

“Silver,” my mom says, “don’t.”

I have to proceed as if Silver doesn’t exist. As if it’s just my mom and me.

Mom hasn’t said a word to me. She looks at Jake, standing not quite at my side but solidly, supportively a little bit behind me.

“Hello, Jake,” she says.

“Lorena.”

“Olivia.” Her face is like a stone.

“Mom,” I say, letting my voice break.

“We’re on in ten, Lorena.” Silver’s voice flows like poison through the chasm between my mom and me. “Strength is strongest when it’s weak,” she adds.

“Can I talk to you alone?” I ask my mom.

“I’m spreading a safety net for her,” Silver says, “and it’s made of razor wire that only cutsyoursoul.”

“Olivia,” my mom says my name and I almost fall over in relief. It’s cold and angry, but it’s familiar, too. She loves me, and she knows I love her. She has to.

“Mom,” I breathe. I left the matcha in the car. I’ve botched this badly, but I’m here, as sincere as I’ve ever been. I love my mom. I need her. Surely, she must love and need me, too? “Can we please talk? I have some things I need to tell you. I—”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“I’m sorry too! I’msosorry, and all I want is to make things right—”

“No,” she says, “I can’t do this—”

“Talk to me?”

“I can’t.”

“Okay, I’ll wait. You’re about to record. I’ll wait here until you’re finished and—”

“No,” she says. Just no.

“What?” I whisper. “Mom.” I catch my breath. I close my eyes. “I hurt you.”

“And you insist on perpetuating it,” Silver says. “Can’t you let her heal? When a wound is always open it becomes a life.”

Tears dampen my mom’s eyes. I hate the sight of them, but... is this the crack in her veneer I need to make my way in?

I come close. I reach for her hand. It’s cool and soft just like always.