What Happens Now(87)

“It’ll sound silly,” she said, “but Silver Arrow and Satina and all the rest helped me rewind and find that hopeful person again. It helped me start fresh.”

We were silent for a few moments as I processed all that. Mom took this opportunity to eat.

“So why don’t you watch it anymore?” I asked. “Why do we never even talk about it?”

Mom shrugged sadly. “Those years were not a good time for me, Ari. It led me to a better time, yes, but it was so hard. Like I said in my letter, last year I was struggling, too, and couldn’t admit it. Staying busy and focused on moving forward is one of the things that helps me manage my . . . feelings.”

You mean, depression. Why did she have trouble saying that word?

“Why were you so against Camden?” I asked.

“Ah, right. I’m sorry, this all made so much more sense in my head when I was driving.” She paused. “Those summers I spent with your father . . . I was too preoccupied with him. I missed out on other things.”

I frowned. “You mean, other guys?”

“Well, certainly that,” she said. “But also, opportunities. Even then I knew I wanted to work in medicine. Your grandmother begged me to apply for internships that would help me get into medical school, but I just wanted to work at the camp with this boy I loved.”

Boy. It seemed absurd that my father had ever been some boy.

Mom finally mustered up some courage now, because she reached for and took my hand. It was harder than I thought it would be to let her.

“This is the thing, Ari. At exactly the moment where I’ve finally gotten back on the track I should have stayed on, I see you doing a little of what I did. At the exact moment in my own life where I felt I went astray. In light of your . . . that night . . . I was so scared of what would happen to you if things didn’t work out.”

She let go of my hand and drew her own close to her, tucked it into her lap. We sat there in silence for a while.

“And I didn’t realize this until today,” Mom continued, “but I think I was also a little jealous. Because, what I wouldn’t give for a chance to be back there. In that place where love seems simple and fresh.”

There were tears in her eyes now. I realized she wasn’t talking about her past anymore.

“Are you and Richard going to break up?” I asked.

I expected her to say, What? God, no! Instead, she said softly, “I hope not.”

“You’re always mad at each other. You barely speak sometimes.”

“We’re not in a good place right now, that’s for sure. But that doesn’t mean we won’t figure it out.”

“But you love him,” I prodded.

Mom took a deep breath. “I do. It’s not the same kind of love it was before. It’s more complicated. But maybe that’s okay.”

“Make it okay,” I said. “Please make it okay.”

She nodded and searched my face.

I reached into my bag and dug my hand into an inside pocket, where the box with the Silver Arrow pin was still tucked away.

“I got something for you at the SuperCon.”

I pulled it out and spread open my palm, put the box on it. Mom took it and when she saw the pin, she smiled.

“This is fantastic,” she said.

“You don’t have to wear it. I just thought it would be fun for you to have.”

Mom nodded, then started to break down. “I’m sorry for everything, Ari. Bear with me while I try to fit it all together. I want my life. I have good days and bad days.”

“There are these things called therapy and medication that I highly recommend,” I said.

She laughed. “Thank you. I’ll look into it.” Then she got serious. “Watching you slowly come back from that night you hurt yourself . . . it’s made me so proud. Nervous and terrified, but proud.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, not sure if that was the right thing to say, and turned back to gaze out the window. This kind of intensity was blinding and it was hard to look straight at it for too long.

All this time with Camden, I thought I had no good examples of love, nothing to give me a road map or even a basic flow chart. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe love was not always going to be something I recognized when I saw it. Maybe it was not the reward you got for working through something, but the working through itself.

“Do you need to go back to the hospital?” I asked Mom.

“No, I took the day off. I think you should, too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Mom smiled. “I know the boss. I can pull some strings. We can do something fun.”

“Don’t tell me: you want to go to Target.”

“Actually, I noticed there’s a noon showing of some movie I’ve never heard of.” She pointed out the window to the theater across the street.

I glanced at the marquee. “Oh, yeah. That’s supposed to be really silly.”

My mother heaved a bone-deep, tired sigh. “Silly sounds like heaven.”

It really did. She paid for the tickets, but I bought the popcorn.

Late August.

Still summer, officially, but now there were tiny sadnesses everywhere.

The slightly stiff feeling of the weeds on the front steps under my bare feet, a sign they’d start dying soon. The night air stripped of a layer, revealing a new coolness that wasn’t there before. Three annoyingly overachieving red leaves on the tree in our front yard.