What Happens Now(9)

He was good. Convincing. We’d done this little show before. It was Mom Management Vaudeville.

“I am. In fact, I have an idea I want to run by you, if you’ll promise to keep an open mind.”

Mom put down her grilled chicken wrap and rested both hands on her place mat. “We always keep an open mind,” she said, in a way that would never convince anyone she had an open mind.

I glanced at Dani, who was snugly in her own little world, focused on her turtle. I took a deep breath, then looked squarely at Mom. The only way out was through.

“There’s a morning-shift housekeeper job available at the River’s Edge B&B, and I’d like to apply.”

Mom and Richard didn’t react, like they were waiting for the punch line.

“River’s Edge B&B?” I added pointlessly. “Up on 9W?”

Mom frowned. Certain lines on her face appeared only when she frowned this much. “But you already have a job.” Mom looked to Richard, but I kept my eyes on her. Seeing Richard’s face right now would destroy whatever resolve I had.

“I’d like to do something different this summer,” I said.

“But Richard depends on you.” Mom touched Richard’s arm and I looked at it, her limp hand on his wristwatch.

“I’m replaceable.” I’d anticipated exactly this objection from Mom. I’d done some prep. “There must have been four college students who stopped in today, asking about work for the summer. He’ll have no trouble finding someone else.”

“But why, Ari?” asked Mom. She turned to Richard. “We need to know why. Right, honey?”

I dared look at Richard now. He tilted his head, staring at me. I knew I owed him an explanation.

I thought of Richard’s face in the doorway of my room after they found out what I’d done. My mom had gone into nurse mode, checking my cuts to make sure they’d stopped bleeding, getting them properly cleaned. She didn’t have the time or luxury to be shocked or hurt or regretful. At least not right away. (Or ever. I still couldn’t tell.)

But Richard did. His face. So sad. It was the kind of sadness that shifts a tectonic plate somewhere inside that person.

In some ways, watching Richard realize my truth was harder than watching Mom and Dani do it. Because he was the first person I would have gone to for help, and because I didn’t, and also because I had no idea why.

“I’ve worked hard this year,” I finally said, then realized I had to clarify. “Worked hard at feeling better.”

“We know you have,” Mom said, dipping into a whisper.

“Better feels different. I feel different. I am different. So I want to be somewhere different this summer, doing something different.”

That word, suddenly stuck on a loop in my head.

“The B&B is all strangers just passing through,” I continued. “Nobody knows me, and they don’t know about . . . my history. It’s kind of a way for me to start fresh.”

I forced myself to shut up at that point. I’d already given away all the raw honesty I could spare.

Mom’s face softened. Her frown lines seemed uprooted for a moment, not sure where to go.

“Oh, Ari,” she said, my name catching on its way out of her mouth.

The change in her tone was enough to make Dani stop coloring and look up, to examine Mom for signs of Mom-ness.

“You don’t notice it,” I said, “but I do. The way people still look at me, or at these.” I offered my forearm.

“I get it.” She held up a hand for me to halt. It was almost comical, how squeamish this particular RN was about these particular scars.

“I can make do without her,” volunteered Richard. “But it’s your call.” He always backed away from the tough stuff. He knew where Mom had jurisdiction.

Mom took a deep breath in, then out, as we waited. Finally she said, “I hate the idea of you driving all the way to the River’s Edge. That’s a busy road, lots of traffic in the summer. What if you can’t make it in time to pick up Dani from camp? At least at the store, you know you’ll never get stuck there.” She paused. “And really, Ari, you can’t run away from your problems. There must be other ways to ‘start fresh,’ as you say.”

“There aren’t. I’ve looked.”

“Keep looking. You can find them. I know you can.”

I felt my throat close up. She did this, my mom. She made assumptions about what I was capable of, what I could handle. I knew she was trying to lift me up, but it only felt like more pressure at a time when I didn’t need more pressure.

Suddenly I was climbing over Dani—her black crayon scraped my leg—and rushing out the door to the street. I may have said, “Excuse me,” at some point, but I wasn’t sure to whom, or why.

I sat down on a bench outside the restaurant, grabbed my head with my hands, looked at the purple of my boots against the pavement. What would Satina do right here? Would she go back in and fight for her cause with a perfectly articulated speech?

The front door swung open, and I saw my mother’s sandals appear on the sidewalk. Then Dani’s sequined Mary Janes next to them. A cheap shot that Mom would bring Dani, or more likely, let her follow. Like she’d lawyered up. It was always harder for me to lose it around Dani, which was, you know, both good and bad.