Page 18

Eighteen

Jade

My mom can finally lift her head, but she still can’t drive or do much else, so we’re just hanging out in the living room. She’s reading, and I’m pretending to watch a show, but really, I’m processing everything Henry told me.

I think it’s the first time I really realized what opposite lives we’ve been living the last three years. He’s been building a family, and I… well… haven’t. It feels as if I was left behind, even though I wasn’t. I made my choices and Henry made his.

“I forgot to ask how Eloise’s dress fitting went,” she says, her eyes still on her book, pretending as if she isn’t trying to bait me into a conversation about why I’m staring out the window more than at the television.

“Weird actually.”

Eloise called me this morning and said it was just cold feet and the fact that no one else was there with us. That once she met up with Tristan, her fears went away, and she knew she was being ridiculous. I’m not sure I believe her, but I’ll talk to her again in a few days. I didn’t tell her what happened with Henry and me because I think she has enough going on these days. But that just leaves me with Mom to talk about why my head is a mess.

“How so?” Mom slides her bookmark between the pages and shuts the book, giving me all her attention.

“She says she’s fine now, but she froze when she saw herself in the wedding dress.”

“She’s been with him for a while, right?”

I nod. “For, like, two years.”

“Huh. Check in with her again, I guess. That’s your job as the maid of honor. God knows, mine never asked me,” she says the last sentence under her breath.

“I was your maid of honor,” I say.

“The second time, sweetie. Not the first.”

I knew, but I figured if we got onto the tangent of her marriage to my father, she wouldn’t try to needle me into spilling everything I have on my mind. Even though I really want to talk to someone about all these uncontrolled emotions plaguing me, I wanted an unbiased person. Mom has her thoughts about my relationship with Henry.

“And how’s teaching going? I heard you have Bodhi in your class.”

When Reed came home that first day, I drilled him hard as to why he would suggest I teach a class Henry’s son was in. His pale white face said that Henry was right, it had slipped Reed’s mind that Henry was changing Bodhi’s school this year. I’m sure he and Mom had some extensive conversation afterward.

“It’s going all right. Bodhi’s adorable and way more organized than a six-year-old should be.”

She laughs. “One time I caught him throwing away all the broken crayons. When I asked him why, he said you can’t see their tips in the box. When I suggested we get a container to put them all in instead of trying to put them in the original box the exact way they came, he looked at me like I was the boogeyman.” She giggles again. “But he’s Henry’s son, so do we really expect any different?”

I don’t remember Henry being that organized at Bodhi’s age. Every morning, Bodhi hangs up his bag and his coat while the other kids just toss theirs in their cubbies. When it comes time to change into his shoes for gym class, I caught Bodhi taking a piece of paper from my printer to lay down under his shoes so the floor of the cubby didn’t get dirty.

“He’s a great dad though,” I say.

My mom stares at me long and hard. “I wasn’t implying he wasn’t.”

Henry always seemed to be the one subject where Mom and I misunderstood one another. I always felt like I needed to be Henry’s protector when Mom made sly comments. Or at least that was how I interpreted them.

“Organization is good. Cleanliness is good.” I shrug.

“I never said they weren’t.” She eyes me while her hand rests on her book. At first, I think she’s going to pick it up and end this conversation, but then she lifts her hand off the cover, squares her shoulders, and faces me. “Let’s just hash this out now. The boys are at hockey. We’re all by ourselves.”

My stomach flips. I’m getting tired of having to acknowledge all the elephants in the room. “There isn’t anything to hash out. Henry isn’t part of my life anymore.”

She blows out a breath. “Jade, that boy will always be a part of your life.”

“He’s happy.” My chest gets a little tighter.

“And?”

“And me being here is messing up his happiness.” There. I said it. She can relax now and not worry about me throwing my life away for some guy.

“Is that what you really think?”

“He said as much.”

“Or you heard as much.” She slowly gets up from the couch. “Let’s make lunch.”

“Mom, we were having a conversation.” I stomp after her, wanting to get this over and done with now that we’re in it.

“Are we?” she asks. “Usually there isn’t a lot of conversation with you.”

I balk. What is wrong with her? “Why would you say that?”

“Because all day you’ve been moping around, and I didn’t raise you to be some ‘woe is me’ person with a victim mentality.” She takes out a can of tuna and sets it on the counter with more force than necessary. Why is she mad at me?

“Moping? I’m just having a lazy day.”

She grabs the mayonnaise out of the fridge. “What did you expect to come back to? Did you expect him to be waiting with open arms for you to run into?”

Her words make my eyes sting. “Whoa. I never expected anything.” I open the silverware drawer and pull out the can opener, slamming the drawer shut.

“He moved on. And I understand that upsets you because you love him, but?—”

“I lov ed him.”

She glares at me, the fridge shutting behind her. “You love that boy.”

She’s right. I’ll always love Henry. Ramsey was great, and he treated me okay until he didn’t, but he wasn’t Henry. Not even close. No one ever has been.

“So what? We can’t be together?—”

Her hands tighten into fists. “You two drive me crazy. I just can’t.” Taking the can of tuna from me, she drains the water and dumps it in a bowl.

“I don’t think you should be so angry with your eye thing.” I watch her flit around the room, cupboards banging, utensils clanking.

“I’m fine.” Her tone has a definite bite to it, and I try to figure out how this conversation got so derailed.

The room is silent except for the fork in the tuna, the spoon scrapping the mayo container, the saltshaker sliding on the countertop. I’m not sure what to say. I’m not thirteen, and I don’t want to revert to acting like a teenager, but sometimes it’s hard when you’re arguing with your mom.

“You’re the one who didn’t want me to follow him,” I say.

She stops mashing the mayo and tuna together with a fork. If she had some kind of superpower where her glare could send me to the next galaxy, I’d already be there. “I never said that.”

“Come on, Mom. You didn’t want me to go to Minnesota. You said I was making my life revolve around him, and you didn’t like him because of it.”

She slams the fork on the countertop. “I love Henry. I love him like a son, Jade. It was you. You failed yourself. At some point, you allowed him to be your everything. You stopped wanting more.”

“Oh, well, sorry for loving him and wanting him to remain in my life.” I stomp over to the fridge and take out a bottle of white wine.

My mom closes her eyes like she does when my brothers snip at each other and drive her to her last thread of sanity. “I love Reed, but if he ever left me, I know I can stand on my own.”

“I’ve stood on my own for the last eight years!” I pour my glass of wine. Too bad she can’t have any because of her surgery. Maybe then our heated argument could turn more civilized. More for me, I guess.

“You ran away, Jade. There’s a difference.”

The air rushes out of my lungs as if she threw a quick punch to my gut. Is that what she’s thought this entire time? “Ran?”

She nods. “Don’t deny it. At first it was good that Henry did what he did. It was a selfless act, but you’re the one who chose to never come back. You had opportunities to find yourself here, but instead of facing your biggest fear head-on, you hid away in tourist towns with strangers instead of being part of this family.”

I open my mouth but close it, afraid I’m going to say something I can never take back. But then her words run through my head again, and my anger feels like a furnace in my gut. “You ran from Los Angeles. Took me away from Dad.”

There’s that glare again. “Really?”

My shoulders slump. I took it too far. Her bringing me to Chicago was the best thing for me. I got to spend so much time with my grandma, and Mom met Reed, who has been a great father figure to me. That’s not even bringing Henry into the equation.

“I’m sorry.” I sit on a stool and bury my head in my arms. “Have you ever felt like you didn’t belong anywhere?”

I hear her come over, the stool next to me sliding across the floor, then her arm wraps around my shoulders. “I’m sorry too. I just… I don’t know.”

I pick up my head and wipe the tears from my eyes. I haven’t cried this much in years.

“Are you happy?” Mom asks, sliding onto the stool next to me, crossing her legs and taking my hands.

I shrug. “Sort of.”

“You sure have been doing a lot of sacrificing for the answer to be sort of.” There’s no more anger on her face.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you still love exploring the world and taking beautiful pictures?”

“I think so.”

She runs her hand over my upper arm. “Love is wonderful, but it can be a very scary thing. Especially to a little girl who always came second in her father’s life.”

I shake my head, even though something in my chest pinches at her words. “But I had Reed… and Dad is Dad, we know that.”

She tilts her head and nods. “Maybe you know that at thirty, but at eight years old, you didn’t. And Reed is a great replacement, he loves you as his own, but he’s not your dad.”

I stare at the countertop, my finger tracing the design of the quartz. “What does that have to do with Henry?”

“Do you think maybe you were afraid that hockey would replace you, and that’s why you hung on so tightly?”

I open my mouth and shake my head. “I was never insecure about Henry’s love for me.”

“I know, sweetie, and that boy loves you just as much as you love him, believe me. God, the years you were gone, he’d try to be so carefree when bringing you up in the conversation when I’m pretty sure it was the first thing he wanted to ask. But sometimes people self-sabotage things because they’re scared of what the outcome might be.”

More tears fill my eyes. “It’s too late. He’s made his life, and he’s happy. I don’t want to disturb that.”

Her shoulders sink, and she shakes her head. “I’m just going to say this once and then we’re going to make some tuna fish sandwiches and eat. Henry’s job is to protect Bodhi, and he’s going to hurt himself to make sure that little boy’s heart doesn’t break. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t always room for more love. But I think whoever is blessed to be in Henry and Bodhi’s lives has to love herself and know her worth. And she definitely has to make sure she knows what she wants.”

“Are you saying I wasted eight years of my life?”

She laughs and stands. “There are lessons learned on every journey, but I also think that’s not what you should be dwelling on right now. You and Henry are different versions of yourselves, your situations are different than when you first fell in love. You two found something rare at a really young age, and maybe you take this time to rediscover who you each are now and see where it can take you. I’m pretty sure you’ll find out a lot about yourself in that process.” She kisses my temple and wraps her arms around me. So many decisions to be made in just that one stream of advice.

The back door opens. Waylon’s complaining to Owen about practice and what he didn’t do.

“Will you two stop?” Reed says with no small amount of exasperation.

“Who died?” Owen asks.

Mom and I turn to see all three of them standing at the door, staring at us.

Men.