In an Instant(68)

It’s not that Mo has left me, but rather, her world has suddenly shifted, moved forward in a new and unexpected way, and while I will always hold a place in her heart, with her newfound feelings for Kyle so large and overwhelming, I no longer occupy space.

It is the same with Charlie, my teammates, and my friends. Like a wave receding, I have dissolved into a memory, exactly as I should be. I can still visit, but unlike before, I am no longer a constant presence in their minds that draws me to them, the volition now entirely my own.

While slightly stunned, I am not sad. There is lightness in my liberation, like a burden lifting. Mo is happy, really happy, and because of that she is no longer consumed with everything that was lost, the future suddenly brighter than the shadow of that awful day.

Closing my eyes, I send a prayer of love and gratitude to the best friend a girl could have. You are the most remarkable dung beetle in the world, I say with a smile. The two of us have used the compliment for years, ever since we discovered that the insects are the strongest animals on the planet. I wish I could be here to see all the things you are going to do. I stop and think about it, trying to wrangle a vision of what her future might hold, but I cannot see it; too many possibilities exist. So instead I say, Soar, Mo, reach for the stars or the moon or another universe altogether, and shine so bright you blind everyone around you, and though I am gone, carry me with you, but only as lightness and never as weight . . .

I stop, feeling Chloe looking my way, my pulse suspended as I watch her tilt her head, the thinnest smile on her lips. She looks away and returns to scrawling in her notebook.

A day, a month, a year—I cannot know, but when the time comes, I will be ready.





80

Two hours after Bob left, my mom was dressed and on her way to Big Bear.

She lets herself into the cabin, silent as a burglar. “Jack?” she calls.

Vance lurches awake, falls off the couch, stumbles to his feet, grabs a carved deer statue from the table, and raises it over his head to slam it down on the intruder.

My mom flicks on the light, sees Vance charging, and screams.

“Mrs. Miller?” he says, the antlers of the statue stopping an inch from impaling her skull.

My mom screams again. She doesn’t recognize him.

My dad charge-hobbles on his crutches from the bedroom. “Ann?”

My mom’s eyes dart from Vance to my dad and back again. “Vance?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Vance says. I don’t blame her for not recognizing him. He’s dressed in nothing but boxers, his hair is gold from the sun, and he’s not supposed to be here.

My mom’s eyes slide to his fingers as he sets down the statue, then take in his damaged ears. When he turns back to her, she pulls him into an embrace that is shocking, her arms wrapping around his waist and her head nestling against his bare chest. Awkwardly he wraps his hands around her.

She pulls away, sniffs back her tears, and brings her hand to his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says.

Numbly he nods.

“Ann, what are you doing here?” my dad says, his voice going for gruff but laced with excitement. He straightens the glee immediately and says, “You need to leave. I told you I need time to think.”

“No,” she says, marching forward and planting herself in front of him.

My dad straightens as much as he can on his crutches. He wears dirty sweats and a ratty T-shirt. Laundry is not exactly high on his or Vance’s priority list.

My mom’s jaw slides forward, her chin twitching with emotion. “No,” she says again. “You don’t get to kick me to the curb.”

“Ann, I need—”

“No. We . . . WE!” she hisses, pointing back and forth between them. “We are in this together. I didn’t ditch you on that mountain, and you don’t get to ditch me now.”

“It’s not about that.”

“It’s all about that. That day. That horrible, horrible day. Finn died. Oz died. You were right: I shouldn’t have left Oz with Bob.”

“Why are you here?” my dad roars, the implication of her words like a cattle prod. “What did that bastard do?”

“He screwed up,” my mom says, not intimidated in the least by his bluster. “Just like I screwed up and you screwed up.” She thumbs her hand at Vance. “And he screwed up. And Chloe screwed up. We all screwed up, and you don’t get to blame me or ditch me because of it.”

My dad’s eyes narrow. He looks like a rabid grizzly. His hair is long and wild, sticking out in all directions, and his eyes are red and puffy from alcohol and lack of sleep.

My mom is beautiful. The running has toned her muscles to youth, and her hair has grown long and is tied loosely back from her face, showing off her high cheeks and large eyes. She looks like Chloe, and despite my dad’s angry squint, his eyes roam over her.

My mom takes a deep breath to rein in her emotions and, in a quaky voice, continues, “We. It’s always been we. That’s how we managed to make it this far, and you don’t get to quit on us now.”

“What did he do?” my dad seethes, still stuck on Bob, and I’m thankful Bob is two hundred miles away.

My mom ignores him. “That day, do you know what kept me going?”

My dad’s nose flares with his huffs.