I'll Stop the World (56)

Her mom looked tired, more tired than she’d seemed in years, but she still managed a smile. She leaned forward, taking Lisa’s face between her hands. “This is just the road, baby. We knew when we started that it would be bumpy.”

“It’s not bumpy for him,” Lisa grumbled.

“Maybe not,” her mom said, “but if we can just stay on it through to the end, maybe we can smooth out some of these bumps for the people walking after us.” She smiled at Emmie in her high chair, shoving handfuls of Cheerios into her mouth with her stubby fingers. When she noticed her mom looking at her, Emmie grinned, her brown button nose crinkling, bits of saliva-soaked cereal flecking her lips.

“It’s not fair,” Lisa said quietly, leaning over to wipe Emmie’s mouth with a napkin. Emmie twisted her face, arching away from the napkin and swatting at her sister’s hand. Lisa looked at Emmie’s wispy, dark curls, at the slight crescent shape of her eyes, and a simultaneous wave of envy and fierce protectiveness washed over her. Emmie didn’t know yet how hard it was to be different, and Lisa wished she could keep her from ever finding out.

“It’s not,” her mom agreed. “It’s not fair at all.”

Lisa had always appreciated this about her mom, how she didn’t try to sugarcoat bad things in pretty words. A scraped knee got a matter-of-fact That looks like it really hurts, while a mean taunt on the playground received a sympathetic Sometimes people are just cruel. There’s no excuse for it, and it’s never okay.

And when her dad had died and Lisa had sobbed herself to sleep every night for two months, her mom had simply sat on the side of her bed and stroked her back, saying, This is a big sadness, baby girl. It’s all right to feel it.

Lisa pulled in a long breath. This was the thing Charlene didn’t get. She knew the world was hard and rarely fair, but there were layers of complexity that she just didn’t understand, and probably never would. It wasn’t her fault; their roads were just different.

Her mom cleared her throat, folding her hands. “Now, honey, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Nothing,” Lisa said quickly. She couldn’t talk to her mom about her and Charlene now. Not when there was so much other stuff going on.

Her mom pursed her lips, giving her a practiced I-don’t-believe-that-for-a-second look.

Jim paused with his spoon midway to his mouth, catching his wife’s eye. They had a quick conversation using only their eyes—a language Lisa had never learned to speak, despite her efforts—then he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m going to go finish taking care of all this,” he said, straightening to gesture at his white undershirt and the couple of flecks of red-spotted toilet paper dotting his chin, as if he’d never intended to sit and eat breakfast in the first place.

After Jim had hurried out of the room, her mom raised her eyebrows at Lisa. “C’mon, baby girl, you and I both know you didn’t ask to talk about nothing.”

“Well,” Lisa amended, casting around for an effective distraction. “I was just going to ask if you needed me this weekend. To help prepare for the debate.”

It worked. Her mom’s eyes instantly became clouded, and Lisa knew she was running through her long list of things to do. “Oh, honey, that’s so sweet, but don’t you worry about that. Actually, other than the setup Saturday morning, it’s probably for the best if you and Rosie lay a little bit low for the rest of the week. The press . . .” She sighed, her gaze dropping back to the paper as she trailed off.

Lisa pasted a smile on her face, determined not to make the road her mom was walking any bumpier than it had to be. “Absolutely.”

“And you know, I know you love to hang out with Charlene, and of course we love her, too, but in light of the article and considering how close her family is with the Gibsons, we were wondering if maybe you might take some . . . space. From each other.”

Unexpected tears sprang to Lisa’s eyes at the sound of Charlene’s words echoed in her mother’s voice. Abruptly, she stood to retrieve her glass from the sink, pretending she’d suddenly decided on a refill. She blinked rapidly as she rinsed out the glass and filled it with water, trying to banish the tears from her eyes.

“Not for long,” Diane hurried to say, likely mistaking Lisa’s heartbreak for annoyance. “Maybe just until after the debate? Then we’ll see where we are.”

Char doesn’t want to see me anyway, Lisa reminded herself. It should be easy enough to say yes. To give her mom what she needed. To give Charlene what she wanted. Really, nothing was even changing. Nothing was being taken away that she hadn’t already lost.

Then why did it feel like she was being torn in two?

Lisa took a deep breath. Her tears seemed mostly under control now, even as her heart felt like it was being slowly crushed. She turned to face her mother, her smile frozen in place. “Sure thing. No problem at all.”

She excused herself and walked back upstairs to brush her teeth, wondering just how many pieces of herself she’d have to give up by the time this was all over, and if she’d even recognize herself anymore by then.





Chapter Thirty-Two


BILL

The door clicked shut behind Andy, who walked out of Bill’s office stiffly, his hall pass to in-school suspension crumpled in his hand. Once Andy was safely on the other side of the door, Pat walked over to the window, running his hand slowly over his beard, and blew out a long breath. “Well, shit.”