What Happens Now(59)

Mom nodded and smiled distractedly, then looked at the Gustafsons’ window again, tilting her head to get a better look at what they were doing.

“The other kids in the pictures . . . ,” she asked.

“Eliza and Max. They go to school with Camden. And there’s a guy named James who doesn’t cosplay but he takes photos.” I almost said, Kendall is totally hot for him, but caught myself.

“They’re good kids?” She turned to me. “I trust your judgment here, Ari.”

“They are,” I said. “You can.”

I didn’t ask what her definition of “good” really was. I’d never thought about what my definition was, either.

“I remember what it was like to discover new people,” said Mom. “After growing up with the same crowd.” She paused, seemed suddenly stricken. “It’s easy to make bad decisions, when you’re distracted by what’s different and exciting.”

“I’m not making any bad decisions.” Secretly staying over at Camden’s: admittedly bad. Not having sex with him: good enough to cancel that out. Right?

“Okay,” Mom said. “But I need to mention it. Trust me when I say, I’ve been there.”

I waited for her to elaborate, but her mouth stayed closed and I could see the muscles in her jaw tightening.

“It’s clean fun, Mom,” I said. “And they’re all as mature and responsible as Camden, I swear.” I almost added They’d love to meet you, but I didn’t want them to meet her. Giving up Camden had been hard enough.

“And now with my new job, you’re losing your free afternoons to hang out with them,” she said. “I’m sorry about that.”

I wasn’t sure which was worse: the fact itself, or that she knew it and didn’t feel compelled to change it.

“Too late now,” I said.

Mom swallowed hard.

“I get nights, right?” I pressed. “I can still go out at night?”

“You still have a curfew, but yes, of course you can go out at night. I want you to. Really, not that much will change, except now you don’t have to tiptoe around the house during the day because I’m trying to sleep.”

She saw it in such simple terms. The numbers on the clock, the puzzle pieces of child-care coverage and household tasks that fit together. What she didn’t see was this:

That Danielle would get even more high maintenance. The less she saw of Mom, the more she’d teeter precariously between Normal Child and Melting Child. She’d need me more, and not in ways you could measure in hours. Yes, I would be free to go out as soon as Richard came home, but I would not be free to leave without Dani making a huge ridiculous deal out of it, crying and begging me to stay.

Another thing Mom didn’t see: how it looked from my end. That my freedom, my chances to see Camden and my new friends, not to mention spend time with Kendall before she left—that was all at the mercy of her work schedule.

I couldn’t see what it might look like from Richard’s end, but I could imagine. Mom pressing silently against his guilt about the store not being enough to provide for us. Her wrapping everything into the prospect of them being able to sleep in the same bed at the same time again, as if something that happened while they were unconscious could solve all of their problems.

“It’s going to be fine,” Mom said in response to nothing.

“If you say so.” It came out more sarcastic than I’d meant it.

She shot me a look that made me think of old books when they described someone as cross. It was a great word. I wished people used it more.

I didn’t want to leave it at that; I didn’t want her to zip up the way she often did at the first sign of discord. And I wanted to know what I wanted to know, this likely being my only chance to know it. I looked at the phone in my hand and asked, “You haven’t told me what you think about this Silver Arrow thing.”

Mom stared off at the Gustafsons again. It looked like Mr. Gustafson was working a corkscrew on a bottle of something.

“I’ll be honest. I think it’s really weird.”

“Well, of course it’s weird. That’s the point.”

She sighed. “It’s so different, being a fan of anything now.”

“It’s better . . .”

“Maybe,” she said.

What I was really asking was, Mom, do you think I make a good Satina the same way I used to ask Mom, do you think my drawing is good? Mom, look how high I climbed! Did you see I got a 100 on my spelling test?

I hated that I had to ask. I hated that the answer she would have given, regardless of what she thought, would have been the Yes she always gave. But maybe that would have been enough, because I suddenly realized that I needed her approval on Satina even more than I needed her approval on Camden.

Finally, I decided to make the most of my window. “There’s a convention next week in Connecticut called the SuperCon,” I said. “It’s a pretty big gathering of fans, anyone who’s into comics, science fiction, video games. We want to go as our cosplay group. It’ll be on a Saturday when you’re off, and it’s only a day trip.”

“Cosplay group,” Mom repeated, arching one eyebrow.

“This is where most people are in costume, so we won’t look like freaks. Plus, Eliza thinks by then that so many people will have seen the fair photos, we’ll practically be celebrities.”