I grinned. “Do you remember how much fun we had that night?”
“Barely. Where on earth did you find that?”
“It was with these jeans and a bunch of my old clothes marked for donation inside one of Mom’s closets.” To my delight, I’d also found my old shoes, stuffed animals, books, and posters. She’d kept everything folded neatly in boxes marked with my name. Some had small hearts drawn on the lids.
However she’d behaved outwardly, she’d still marked the passage of my life just as I marked Camilla’s, and that knowledge was the boon I never knew I needed. Now, everywhere I looked, I found inarguable signs of my mother’s love.
And her poor mental health.
Endless self-help books filled shelves in her closet. Books on healing after trauma, on grief recovery and surviving narcissistic parents. The latter reshaped my memories of Mom and Grandma together.
Mom needed help she never received, and she’d shielded me from her struggles the only way she could, by pushing me away. I’d shed gallons of tears over that realization.
Whatever else happened, I would keep choosing happiness. That was what Mom would’ve wanted, what Camilla should see modeled, and what I deserved.
Alicia’s expression was dramatically blank when I met her gaze again. “You still fit into your jeans from college?”
I nodded, and she opened her car door as if she might climb in and leave.
“Wait!” I laughed. “Stop. The outfit is part of today’s theme.”
Curiosity glinted in her eyes, and she closed the car door. “There’s a theme?”
No decent teacher could resist.
I rocked onto my toes, adrenaline pumping. “I’m embracing my lost youth,” I announced. “Starting with things I missed out on by marrying too young and putting myself last all these years.”
“Because you married a man who didn’t allow you any joy,” she added.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about him. This is about me.”
Alicia’s expression brightened. “I can get behind that. Any chance there’s lunch in your plans? Because I’m starving.”
“Absolutely. First we have to cross the street.”
She turned her gaze to a tavern that catered to a demographic likely half our age. Neon beer signs hung in the windows beside flyers for live karaoke, local bands, and beer pong championships. “Interesting choice, but let’s go.”
“Not yet.” I pointed to the smaller building next door. “I have an appointment there in five minutes.”
“I don’t understand.” She jutted her chin forward. “You’re pointing to a tattoo parlor.”
“What do you think?”
She puffed out a disbelieving laugh. “I think I’ve birthed three gigantic, big-headed boys. My body is already covered in shiny silver warrior tattoos that amateurs like to call stretch marks. I don’t need more body art, but I will hold your hand while you do you.”
I linked my arm with hers and headed for the crosswalk. “I’m having my nose pierced.”
“Oh, cute!” Alicia said. “I love that. I forgot how much you wanted one.”
“Robert always said facial piercings, tattoos, and unnaturally colored hair are all signs of trashy people.” People going nowhere. People with no financial future. People he didn’t want to be associated with.
Alicia made a low throaty sound. “I know you’re technically still married, but is it okay if I call him a cunt?”
I barked an explosive laugh. “You probably shouldn’t call anyone that, but yeah, fine by me.”
I steeled my nerves as I entered Impressive Ink. I wondered briefly if the piercing was a bad idea. Was I too old? Was it too out of character? What would people think?
“Change your mind already?” Alicia asked.
