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twenty-four

When I told Dean that Mom wanted to talk to me, he said “Good luck with that” and went over to the Novak’s house, so I was alone walking into the house almost exactly an hour later.

I’d buttoned up Sebastian’s varsity jacket to hide most of the stain on the dress and kicked off the uncomfortable heels by the door, so I probably looked like a kid playing an awful game of dress up as I walked into the living room clutching the milkshake Sebastian bought me in one hand.

Mom was sitting in the dark living room with only a lamp on for light.

She was in the chair on the far end of the room, where she would be able to see me if I tried to go upstairs without stopping by to talk to her.

I wondered how long she’d been sitting here waiting after I told her that I’d be home in an hour—just the last few minutes or had she been down here this whole time, making sure that I couldn’t get past her if I came home early?

But I was too tired to even try to get away now or pull off some excuse about why we couldn’t have this discussion.

If she wanted to talk—even if that was unusual in itself—there was no way she was going to let me get away, so it was easier not to waste my breath.

I dropped into the chair closest to the door, and conveniently the exit if I changed my mind about sitting through this, and put my empty milkshake cup on the side table.

Mom eyed it, looking a little disgusted, but didn’t comment.

“Okay, I’m here,” I said. I didn’t offer up anything else.

I wasn’t going to be the one to start this conversation, only in part because I wasn’t sure exactly what there was to say.

I’d been fully prepared for us to just brush this under the rug, like we’d done with any disagreement we had in the past. Stay silent for a couple days, then go back to regular life and pretend none of it even existed.

But we’d never had an argument as big as this one.

I’d never spoken back to them the way I had in the car and I’d certainly never raised my voice.

Because perfect daughters didn’t do that.

Mom opened her mouth, probably to make some comment about watching my attitude, then closed it again and cleared her throat.

Everything about this felt so bizarre. I looked around, wondering if I’d misunderstood the whole call.

Maybe it wasn’t about the fight after all, but instead about some family tragedy like Grandma dying or something.

It was the only explanation for why she was acting so weird.

But then, she said, “I know everyone has off days.”

I stared at her, unable to comprehend the words. She looked like my mother. She sounded like my mother. But those were not words that she would ever say. Had she been replaced by some weird clone in the time that I was gone .

“What?” It was the only thing I could say because I just didn’t understand.

“I know everybody has off days,” she repeated. “And I know you probably tried your best at the swim meet today.”

I didn’t appreciate the use of “probably.” If Clementine or Ainsley had said that to me, I would have called out the word usage.

But I was so flabbergasted hearing it from my mom that all I said was, “Okay.” She stared at me, probably waiting for a more eloquent response, but I honestly had no idea what to say.

I was glad that she could admit it was okay for me to have an off day, but that still didn’t make up for everything else that had happened between us.

“If this is all you want to talk about,” I said, pushing myself out of my seat, “I’m gonna go shower. I’ve had a rough night.”

“Nora.” It was the use of my nickname, instead of Eleanor, that made me freeze.

She kept watching until I sat back down in the chair.

She looked uncomfortable, like there was something she wanted to say—maybe another apology or maybe to get mad at me for the way I screamed at her earlier, but she didn’t say anything, so I figured I would have to be the one to keep it going.

“You know, nobody else cares about our family nearly as much as you do,” I told her. Her mouth pressed into a firm line like she didn’t quite agree, but I continued on. “Nobody knows what goes on in our house and they definitely don’t give a flying crap about your reputation.”

I thought of Sebastian and Lavender, screaming at each other on the highway.

Finally releasing all those emotions they’d kept inside for so long.

I thought of Dean and his confession that nobody, not even his own family, knew about.

There were a lot more secrets in the world than any of us cared to admit.

“I want you to know,” she said, “that it wasn’t only about our reputation. I push you because I know that you are capable of so much.”

At another time, I would have smiled and said, “Yeah, I know.” Because that used to be what she wanted to hear.

I had to be humble but also know my strengths and refuse to show weakness.

But there was more emotion in her voice than I had ever heard, and somehow I felt like this wasn’t one of her tests to see how well I knew the way that she wanted me to act.

“I don’t need you to push me. I know what I’m capable of and I know what I can reach. I don’t need you there, pushing me on. You’re not my coach, you’re my mom.”

“That’s what a mom is supposed to do. Encourage their daughters to reach their full potential. I was doing what’s best for you.”

“No. You’re doing what’s best for you.” There hadn’t been a single moment in the last three years where I thought for even a second that my mom was doing what was best for me by pushing me forward.

She didn’t force me into public speaking class because she thought it would be good for me—she did it because she was embarrassed of having a shy daughter.

She didn’t tell me to join multiple extracurriculars at school and keep my grades up because it would be good for my future—she did it so she could brag to the other moms about how involved her daughter was.

“I’m not your marionette doll. I’m not here to do your bidding, tied to the strings that you control.

I’m my own person and I need to be able to make my own decisions. Are you okay with letting me do that?”

She looked like she was sucking on a lemon, and I really expected the next words out of her mouth to be, No, I’m not. But she dropped her chin in what could almost be considered a nod and said, “I’m doing my best to be okay with it.”

I guess that was all I could ask for right now. For her to try. I knew I’d let this go on for too long without saying anything and that it might take until I went off to college for her to really let go, but maybe we could take a step forward now.

“I’m gonna do just fine on my own, you know,” I told her. “Without you trying to mold me into the perfect kid. Because it was never about my potential, was it, Mom? It was always about not embarrassing you.”

She couldn’t deny that. She’d said it just this afternoon, told me that I embarrassed her in front of all her friends by performing dead last. She never even stopped to ask how I felt, if something had gone wrong, if there was some reason that I hadn’t performed well.

It was always what other people thought above all else.

She stood up and came over, she brushed her hand over the side of my face, just like she had done a million times before, like she had been doing every day for the past three years. Then she said words that I never thought I would hear from her. “I’m sorry.”

For the second time that night, my brain short-circuited at the words, certain that I’d heard them wrong. “You’re sorry?” I repeated, wondering if I’d imagined them .

Mom hummed and brushed some of my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry for putting our reputation above our love for you.”

I hadn’t realized until now how much those were the words I needed to hear until she said them, but suddenly, it was like I could breathe again after drowning for months.

I threw my arms around her in a hug and she let out a startled laugh.

I couldn’t remember the last time we’d hugged.

And especially not the last time it had been genuine like this.

“Just one more thing,” Mom said as I pulled back. For a second, I was worried she was going to say something that would undo all the good she’d just done. But then, she tugged at the sleeve of the varsity jacket I still had on and asked, “Whose is this?”

I should have realized she would notice that it wasn’t Dean’s, but I’d had so many other things on my mind that it didn’t even occur to me.

I briefly debated not telling her, mostly because I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion on what was going on between me and Sebastian.

If she didn’t support us being together, I didn’t want to know.

But I also knew it would be taking a massive step backwards to lie or withhold the truth right now.

I’d wanted my mom back. I’d wanted her to take an interest in my life and to be able to share my feelings.

This was the first step toward doing that.

“It’s Sebastian Novak’s,” I said. I anxiously tugged at the sleeves, pulling them down over my hands again as I waited for her reaction. She raised her eyebrows, looking surprised but not necessarily upset.

“Are you two… dating ?” She sounded bewildered by the word as she said it. I wondered whether it was because before now, she wouldn’t have considered letting me date or if it was because she really couldn’t imagine me, shy little Eleanor, to be going out with a guy.

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. I thought of Sebastian in the car earlier tonight, asking if he could kiss me. We hadn’t spoken about anything beyond that, but now I wondered. “I’ll get back to you.”