The Twelve Days of Dash & Lily(33)

“I understand.” Along with all my other faults of late, I was wasting my mother’s lovely party dress and face on sitting in a car with sullen me. “You look very pretty.” My mother usually goes for the yoga-pants-and-loose-shirts-with-unbrushed-hair-pulled-back-in-a-bun look, but when she puts on some mascara and lipstick and blows out her hair, it’s like, Wow, Mom, you’re a babe!

“Thank you. I got you this.” Mom handed me a paper coffee cup that had a molasses cookie on top of it.

“It’s coffee? This cup is cold.” She was being so nice to me when I didn’t deserve it, so I don’t know why I was acting so whiny besides that I was having an existential crisis and I’m just moody and awful.

“It’s supposed to be. Before your train pulled in, there was a hipster coffee truck parked across the street. They were making holiday-themed drinks for the passengers headed into the city. I got their last two gingerbread lattes before they closed up.”

“Where’s yours?”

“It was so good I finished it in about one minute flat. Say what you will about hipsters, but those suspender-wearing beardies really know how to pull an artisanal brew.”

“It looks weird for a latte,” I said, suspiciously eyeing the creamy dollop in the cup.

“Stop pouting and just try it. ‘Latte’ is a misnomer. It’s actually an ice-cream shake made with espresso mixed with some kind of vanilla ice cream, with bits of malted milk balls and candied ginger pieces mixed in.”

Sold! I dunked the cookie into the drink and then took a bite. “Oh my god! This is possibly the best drink I’ve ever had in my life.” I silently included in that calculation the one time I got drunk last year on peppermint schnapps, which tasted like a peppermint patty in a beverage. Heaven. This gingerbread latte was heaven, squared. “You’re the best, Mom.”

“Is that a smile I see on your face? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, so I’m not sure.”

I gulped down the remainder of the latte, not caring if the rush of the consumption would give me an ice-cream headache. I licked my lips. “Smiling!” I said. Add to my list of mental woes: My moods could swing violently from sulking to delirious with the right infusion of sugar.

Teenage hormones. I don’t know. They’re exhausting trying to monitor.

Mom said, “If I’d known all it took was a gingerbread latte, I’d have hunted down that coffee truck a long time ago.” She worriedly looked at the time on the car dashboard, and then her face turned serious. “So what’s going on, Lily? You’ve got my full attention until the 2:37. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m worried about me, too.”

She placed her hands over the car heater, and then pressed her warmed hands on my cold cheeks. They felt so good. “Tell me, sweetheart. Is this about Langston moving? Or Dad and me possibly moving up here? Or Grandpa? You understand that heart attack victims often get depressed and angry as they recover? He’s not himself anymore.”

“I’m upset about all that. But no.”

“So we’re not the center of your life anymore?” she asked gently.

“Not exactly,” I admitted.

“Ah,” said Mom. “Dashiell.”

Moms always know.

“I tried to break up with him. He said no!”

“Really? That’s a surprise.” I wasn’t sure if she was surprised I’d want to break up with him or that he’d refused me. “What did you say to him?”

“I said, ‘I think we should break up.’?”

“Doesn’t sound like a convincing breakup directive to me. What did Dash say to that?”

“He said no, and that I was getting everything wrong. But he didn’t say what exactly.”

“I don’t understand. Why’d you want to break up with him in the first place? I know the men in our family try not to like him despite themselves, but I think he seems lovely. And pretty devoted to you.”

“That’s the problem!” I felt the cold, bitter tears forming in my eyes, and I didn’t care if they froze my face. They needed to come out. “Dash likes. I…love.”

“Oh, honey.” Mom wiped the tears from my face and pulled me to her for a hug. “Did you tell him that?”

“I tried. Once. It was like he didn’t hear me. And he never said it back. And it hurts so much to love someone who doesn’t love you back, Mom!” It was such a relief to just say it out loud. Already I felt better, despite how bruised my heart was.

“Honey, I know you’re hurting, but think about it. Is saying ‘I love you’ really what defines a relationship? It’s the actions, not the words.”

“But Dash is a man of words!”

Mom’s face reflected the bitter truth of my comment. “That’s true,” she admitted. “But how do you know he doesn’t feel the same way about you? Maybe he thinks you already know. It seems obvious to everyone else.”

I knew she was just saying that to make me feel better. It was nice. I appreciated her comfort, even though it was misguided. “I can’t talk to him about it!”

“But why not? He’s your boyfriend. I don’t understand.”

It took a moment to finally admit the real truth. “Because then he’ll just see what a clingy, insecure mess I am.”