Aunt Naomi’s house is chaos after school. Stressed voices stream from the kitchen, battling for attention as they all yell something about a budget. I peek my head in and recognize enough of them—including Cooper’s mom—to know it’s the tourism board. And if they’re all here instead of at town hall, then it must be an emergency meeting.
Luckily, no one spots me, so I sneak upstairs. As I pass Mom’s bedroom, classical music fills the hallway. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for the conversation I need to have with her, but continuing to put it off isn’t going to help me get back what I had last week. If I want to fix our relationship, I have to talk to her.
I rap my knuckles on the door, but she doesn’t hear me. So I push inside and step into Mom’s room, where she’s seated in her spot in front of the window, humming. Her giant canvas conveys a crisp autumn night in Bramble Falls. A street is canopied by orange and yellow trees, illuminated by black lampposts lining the sidewalk. The light reflects off the wet street and highlights theback of a couple walking closely side by side, the girl’s arm around the boy. They’re tiny, only shapes, really, but the girl’s hair is the color of mine, and the smallest stroke of brown reminds me of how Cooper’s swoops over his ears. A sudden heaviness fills me.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, swallowing a strangled sob threatening to break free.
Mom startles. She whips around to face me. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
“I knocked, but you kind of go into your own world when you paint, so…”
She sets her paintbrush down and relaxes into her chair. “How are you?”
I shrug as I sit on her bed. “Okay, I guess. Everything is pretty sucky, but I think I’m coming to terms with it.” I pause, trying to figure out how to begin this. Then: “I’m sorry for siding unfairly with Dad.”
“I was never mad at you for it. We uprooted your whole life.”
“But why didn’t you just tell me about the affair?”
Mom sighs. “Your dad has always been your hero. I didn’t want to break your heart.”
“You didn’t think I’d find out eventually?”
“Truthfully? I hoped you wouldn’t,” she says, her gaze dropping to the floor with the admission. I stare at her for a moment, considering how selfless it was of her to try to shield me from something that was causing her so much pain, especially while I was constantly casting all the blame on her. But after learning the whole truth from Dad, I owe her more than an apology for having his back when I should have had hers.
“Mom,” I say quietly, and she looks at me. “I’m also so sorry for always acting like you never had any ambition. And for all the snarky comments I’ve made about you not having a job. I didn’t mean any of it.”
She leans forward and takes my hand in hers. “Listen, I need you to understand something. I know I gave up my career, but—”
“No, I never should have said what I said. You don’t have to explain or justify anything.”
“Let me finish, Ellis.” I press my lips together and nod. “I know I gave up my career, but raising you meantthe worldto me. It gave me purpose after my art dreams were abandoned. And frankly, it was really hard work.
“Being a parent means making hundreds of decisions a day, constantly worrying about doing the right thing, blaming yourself for everything, being sad when your kid is sad, and being anxious about the future. It’s an incredibly rewarding experience, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also exhausting. And your dad never dealt with any of it. He was never there to share any of it with, to celebrate or commiserate with, to discuss what we should do when Libby Prickett started spreading rumors about you or when you decided you wanted to dye your hair red. I didn’t have anyone to turn and smile at when you won your first spelling bee or, later, your first debate. He was never there, and I came to accept it.
“But when I found out he was having an affair, I just… couldn’t. I needed time and space toprocessit all, you know? I swear I was going to go back.Wewere going to go back. But being here”—she shakes her head—“made me realize how much he took from me. Piece by piece, he stole parts of me until I no longerrecognized myself. Until I was living the lifehewanted me to live instead of the lifeIwanted to live—one full of art and beauty and fun. And I saw the same thing happening to you, but I didn’t know how to change it or stop it. You weresohell-bent on making him proud, on having the attention he never gave either of us when you were growing up, on living out his dreams for you so you could make him happy….
“And then we were here, and I saw you becoming your own person instead of his reflection, his shadow. I spent the last two months trying to figure out what to do because, whether you see it or not, you’ve been the happiest I’ve ever seen you. And the designs you’ve created here, the confidence you’ve gained, the way you’ve embraced your passion… it’s all beeninspiring.”
“You’ve inspired me with your art too,” I tell her, tearing up. “I’m so sorry you lost yourself over the years. I wish I’d known this was such a big part of who you are.”
“I lost myself, but I always had you, so it was worth it,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Buying a house here was another one of those impossibly difficult parenting decisions I had to make on my own. But it was a decision I made forbothof us. I understand if you’re still mad. I’ve talked to your dad, and he’s agreed that you can move back in with him if that’s what you want to do. And whatever you decide to do with your future is obviously completely up to you—I’ll support you in whatever you pursue. I just don’t want you to have regrets.”
I should be letting out a breath of relief—she’s offering me everything I’ve wanted since the day they sat me down in theliving room to tell me I was leaving the city. But things are different now.I’mdifferent now. “Before we came here, I was so sure of what I wanted. There was never any question.”
She nods. “I know. But that’s life. It’s unpredictable, and anything can happen at any time. Which is why you should live doing what makes you happy. What lights you up inside, what keeps that flame burning. And truthfully, I think journalism has always dulled all your blues to gray.”
“What an artist thing to say.”
She smiles. “You are the only person who has to live your life, Ellis. Your dad is the main character in his own story. Why not star in your own instead of being a side character in his?”
“Because what if I fail?”
“What if you don’t? What if you take the world by storm?” she says. “Growing up is scary, but it’s also full of possibilities. You can’t only consider the worst things that could happen.”
She’s right. The idea of pursuing fashionisscary. But… maybe I shouldn’t push myself away from the things that make me happy, the same way I shouldn’t have tried to push her back toward a life that didn’t make her happy.
“What are you thinking?” she asks. I must look how I feel—exhilarated yet absolutely petrified.
