If You're Out There(46)

“I don’t know, Mom.”

She crosses her arms. “You don’t know.”

“I have . . . a lot on my mind.”

“Zan. You’re grounded either way. But if you want to tell me what’s going on, I may consider shortening the sentence.”

I sink back into the couch. After a minute, I say, “It’s Priya.”

“Oh, Boop,” says Mom. “Still?”

I shrug, a reluctant yes. “I’ve been feeling really . . . To be honest, I feel scared.”

She looks at me strangely. “What do you mean?”

I swallow. “Mom, it’s hard to explain, but I think something isn’t right. The way she’s been writing in her posts. And cutting people off like this? Not just me. Did I tell you she broke up with Nick?”

“Nicholas Wallace Reid?” She sounds surprised.

“Yes,” I say. “And remember how much she talked about him?”

“I do. He sounded like a keeper.”

“He is such a keeper, Mom. I actually met him recently and you should have seen him. She totally broke his heart. Over email. And he was so, so sad about it. And, I don’t know, a part of me doesn’t believe it could have been her.”

A wary expression flits across her face. “Zan. What are you talking about?”

Here goes.

“What if it’s not her, Mom? What if the statuses, the emails, the silence—what if none of it is in her control? She posted a selfie of herself the other day that was like four months old! Who does that?”

“Okay, you’re losing me now,” says Mom. “What’s wrong with a picture that’s four months old?”

“Never mind.” Ugh. None of this is coming out right. “It doesn’t add up, okay?”

“Of course it doesn’t. She hurt you. And it makes no sense. But honey? As you get older, more and more you realize people make no sense! Maybe she’ll come back to you, and maybe she won’t. But I think for now, for your sanity, you have to learn to live in the world where she won’t.”

“I don’t believe it.”

She groans, breaking my name into frustrated bits. “Za-ha-hann! We lose people in life, for one reason or another. And sometimes there isn’t a moral, or a takeaway, or a . . . satisfying explanation. Sometimes life just isn’t fucking fair!” Her eyes widen a little, like she’s surprised by her own outburst. “Listen. I truly, truly don’t mean to belittle your pain here, but I’m telling you, you have to start getting over this. I think Priya is going through some heavy stuff. It’s not about you. You have to let her go. At least for now.”

I think of Priya’s house today. The shattered phone. Mom would flip if she knew I broke in like that. After a moment, I let her eyes meet mine. “What if you’re wrong?”

“Honey.” She shakes her head, baffled. “If Priya were in some kind of trouble, I think we would know.”

I try not to let my voice crack, but it does a little. “How?”

“Well, for one thing, Ben would have called us. Or Anushka? Yaz? Hon, I think we’re officially crossing over into paranoia territory here. It’s normal to try and negotiate with your new reality. You lost someone. You’re hurting. You’re searching for some explanation that doesn’t feel like a rejection. But this—”

I take a throw pillow over my head and proceed to shout into it.

“Hey!” says Mom.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” I say into the cushion. “I’m not some mental patient.”

I don’t have to see it to know the face she’s making. “Okay, first of all, going to therapy doesn’t make you a mental patient. You know that perfectly well. And second of all, if we’re being completely honest here, if anyone is acting like a mental patient right now, it’s you!” I lift the pillow to let her see my shock. She doesn’t back down. After a moment, she sighs. “I wish you would trust me on this.”

“Trust you? Why don’t you trust me?”

“Fine. You really want to get to the bottom of it?” Mom strains to reach the purse on the coffee table and pulls out her cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

She holds the phone up to her ear. “I’m calling Ben.”

I lunge across the coffee table. “No! Wait.” I try to take it from her.

“I’m not going to make a big deal out of it,” she says, fending me off. “I’m just going to check in.”

“No. Mom! Hang up the phone!”

“Would you rather talk to him?” She holds the phone between us. I can hear it ringing. “It’s you or me.”

For a moment, I freeze.

I take the phone. Breathe, Zan. Breathe. . . . “Alice! Hi.”

I clear my throat and Mom sinks back into her chair, her eyes locked with mine. When I don’t speak, she waves me along. “Uh, hey, Ben. It’s Zan, actually.”

“Oh,” he says. “Hi. Give me a second. I’m gonna step outside.” I hear shuffling in the background. After a minute he says, “Is everything okay?”

“Well.” I swallow, still eyeing Mom. “So, I’m not sure if you know this, but Priya and I sort of . . . aren’t talking anymore.”