Page 144 of Places We've Never Been

“Plus, I have spent time with each of my kids. Learned more things about their lives and struggles, learned more about what makes them laugh and what scares them. I haven’t had uninterrupted time with my kids in a long time and this is exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad.”

“I heard your college interview didn’t go how you expected it to.”

“Skyler told you?”

“Yes.”

“I felt like my brain went missing right when I walked through the door.” I was trying to be everyone but who I was. “It’s okay, though. It’s all about perspective, right?”

She smiled. “Was that for me?”

“What?”

“You pretending not to be disappointed.”

I looked down. Saying what I thought people wanted to hear and not what was truly on my mind was going to be a hard habit to break. “I’m disappointed.”

“And now what?” she said.

“I guess I look more seriously at some other options. And I work on being my most authentic self.”

The blood pressure cuff on her arm began to take a reading, filling up tighter and tighter, the machine beside her beeping. We both watched it until it had deflated again. My eyes went to the digital number it produced: one-thirty over ninety-two.That seemed high, but Olivia didn’t even glance at the number.

“Have you heard the saying that when God closes a door, he opens a window?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Sometimes we have to go looking for those windows ourselves, but they’re there. And maybe they turn out better than the door we were about to walk through.”

“It’s hard to see it that way right now. I just feel like a failure.”

“I get it. But failure in life is inevitable. It’s only a problem if we let it keep us from progressing.”

“You’re right. I know that.”

“You don’t have to know that right now. You can be disappointed for a while longer.”

I held up the bag I had carried in with me.

“What’s that?”

“A present for you.”

“You didn’t need to get me a present.”

“I know, but I figured I owed you one since I’ve been kissing your son behind your back.”

That made her laugh. “Your mom is more upset about that than I am.”

“My mom worries.”

“She is very good at that.”

Olivia put the bag on her lap and pulled out the tissue paper I had packed it with. She peeked into the bag first, then lifted out the wind chimes I had bought her at the hospital gift shop. They were made to resemble the blown glass at the Chihuly Museum close by.

“They’re beautiful,” Olivia said. “Thank you.”