What Happens Now(21)

“Why are you making a Bramscarf?” I found myself shouting up to her through the window.

Eliza gave a crooked grin that somehow made her even more striking. “Saturday night. You’ll see.”

They both waved as they drove by, and I waved back. When they were gone, Kendall, who had heard it all, stepped out of the car.

“Did that happen?” she asked. I held up the cardboard as proof. “You’re going, right?”

“If you’re coming with me.”

Kendall whipped out her phone. “I’m lining up a shift switch for Saturday,” she said as she started typing on it. Then she paused and looked me right in the eye. “We’re going to have a lot of fun before I leave, Ari, and it’s going to start with this party. I can feel it.”

“No regrets, and all that?” I asked, running my finger along the edge of the cardboard.

“All that,” said Kendall, “and more.”

On Saturday morning, Mom dragged Dani and me to Target, intent on being there the minute it opened. The previous night had been her night off and her opportunity to sleep when most other humans do, so now she had the energy for her favorite hobby: shopping.

My mother loved to buy stuff, pure and simple. The things she put in our cart weren’t fancy. They were items that felt useful but weren’t really, if you thought about it for more than three seconds. Multipacks of shampoo and packages of thank-you cards, new sheets for the sofa bed even though we hadn’t had anyone stay over in years.

As Mom decided between two portable car vacuums, I thought of the first time she and I went to the supermarket after we moved in with Richard. He’d given her some extra money and told her to pick up some “treats.” Things had been so lean for us since my father left, when she was barely making enough as a bank teller to cover the basics. “Treats” were not in the budget. But that day, she let me choose a package of cookies. I went right for the Chips Ahoy!, because that was what Cadence Lowery from my class always had in her lunch box, and Cadence Lowery was everything.

Now, finally, Mom earned her own money, and it was pretty good money, too. I understood the mini-shopping sprees, I really did. She worked hard for the pleasure she got out of them. And Danielle? Let’s just say, she’d never known how a package of Chips Ahoy! could feel like Christmas. Which was great, and also not-so-great.

As we passed the toy section, Dani asked, “Can I get a Littlest Pet Shop blue monkey? It’s new. Madison has one.”

“God, no; those things are so ugly,” said Mom.

“And you have a hundred of them,” I added.

But Dani raced down the aisle before we could stop her. She had the thing in her hand so fast, I couldn’t help appreciate her talents in that area. “They have it! They have it!” she squealed.

“We’re not buying any toys today,” said Mom. “We talked about this. Why don’t you do some chores at home, save up, and we’ll come back next time.”

“Ugh!” grunted Danielle, then accented it with a foot stomp. “That is the totally boring way to do it!”

Mom took a deep breath and turned to me. “Ari, I have to buy a gift for one of the nurses on maternity leave. I will meet you and this child in the baby department.”

She made a frustrated waving gesture toward my sister as she walked away. I was the Finisher.

I stepped up to Dani, took the monkey gently out of her hand, and placed it on the shelf. Then I grabbed that hand and led her out of the aisle.

“Come on, kiddo,” I said softly. “Like Mom said. Save up, and you’ll get it next time.”

Dani began to cry. “I know. But I really wanted it today.”

“Anything worth having is worth waiting for.”

“But I really wanted it today.”

I knew how it would go. She would not be able to break out of this thought cycle. I could use a thousand rational arguments. I could hire a celebrity lawyer to explain it to her. Nothing would work. All I could do was get her out of there and stop talking about it.

We found Mom in the baby department, holding up a pair of minuscule jeans.

“What do you think?” she asked, as if nothing had happened and Dani did not still have tears pooled in her eyes. “Aren’t these the most ridiculously cute pants you’ve ever seen?”

At home, when Mom and I were unloading the bags and Dani was in her room, I thought about all the stories from the last few days—Camden and Kendall and Max—and whether or not I wanted to share them with her.

Even after going down, down, down to that place then scrambling up, up, up to the Possible. The strength I’d fought to gain ounce by ounce, then using that strength to gain more. All that, and it was still so hard to talk to my mother about anything. Easy, though, not to think about why, or try (even begin to try) to fix it.

“Hey, Mom?” I asked, yanking the tag off a garlic press. “Can I sleep over at Kendall’s tonight? She said she can pick me up here and drop me at the store in the morning.”

Mom put down the new over-the-door towel hook she was holding. “I don’t see why not,” she said, squinting out the window as if she were, in fact, attempting to see why not.

“Thanks.”

Tell her that you’re also going to a party. Tell her about Camden.

I was about to do that, really I was, but then suddenly Mom said, “Are you sure you can trust your sister alone with me for the night?” She was peeling the price sticker off a toothbrush holder, not meeting my glance.