My mother hissed in a breath, and I waitedfinallyto be yelled at.
But instead she remained calm. “I’m your mother. Do I need a reason to see you?”
“Yes. Considering you haven’t bothered in the last three years.” I sounded angry. And I was. I thought I had made peace with my lack of parental relationship. But with my mother dangling the carrot of her company in front of me, a part of me I thought was dead resurfaced. The part that longed for her parents’ affection. The part that had once been loved and adored by her family.
“There’s a lot I think we need to talk about. We can come to you if that would be easier. Your dad and I could get a hotel room. Take you out to dinner—”
“No!” I said loudly. I knew that having them here at Longwood was the last thing I wanted. I couldn’t have them invading the space that had become my escape. From home. From Jayme’s memory. From them.
“Okay, I understand,” my mother said, sounding sad, which was perplexing on so many levels.
I had no defense against this person. This ghost of my childhood that I thought long gone.
I didn’t know what had precipitated this dramatic change, but I was wary and distrustful. I had hardened myself against my family because they had hurt me deeply already. But my heart strained to open up to her. It wanted to. It needed to love her again.
I had spent years avoiding going back to that place. I had worked hard to put it behind me, even if the memories of my sister and the family I had lost still clawed at my insides every day. I had been firm in the belief that I couldn’t go there. Ever again.
But hearing the soft regret in my mother’s voice had me doing something I thought was impossible to do.
It made me miss home.
“But please think about it. I think it would be important. For all of us,” my mother said quietly, the lack of resentment in her tone louder than her words.
“I will,” I promised.
I hung up the phone feeling conflicted.
“Ugh!” I yelled, throwing down my pencil in frustration. Jayme snickered from across the kitchen table, and I threw her a nasty look.
“What’s wrong, Aubrey?” my mom asked from the back door. She had just come in from getting an armload of firewood that Dad had cut up last weekend. It was the end of fall, and the first signs of winter were appearing. North Carolina was experiencing an unseasonable cold snap, catching everyone by surprise. Theforecasters were even calling for a few flakes of snow before the week was out.
“I hate algebra! I just can’t get it!” I complained, picking up my pencil again.
I should have listened when people said high school was a lot harder than middle school. But I thought I would be fine. I mean, I was smart. I got straight A’s. What would be the problem?
Algebra with Mr. Foltz was the problem.
“You look really funny when you want to cry,” Jayme teased, though it wasn’t malicious. I stuck my tongue out at my little sister.
“You just wait, Jay. In two years you’ll be exactly where I am, and then I can make fun of you,” I threatened, though there was no real bite to my words. We both knew that when the time came, I’d be helping her with her homework anyway.
Mom opened the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of iced tea she had made earlier, pouring some into glasses and bringing them over to the table. She sat one down in front of me and handed me a chocolate chip cookie.
“Brain food,” she said, smiling and sitting down beside me.
I took the offered snack and ate it, thinking there was nothing better in the world than my mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.
“Okay, so what’s the problem?” she asked, leaning over my textbook, a concentrated frown on her face.
I pointed to the gobbledygook on the page. “Mr. Foltz told us one way to do it and the book is saying to do another. Neither of them make any sense!” I moaned, burying my head in my crossed arms in a fit of teenage melodrama.
I could hear Jayme giggling again and Mom quietly shushing her. Then her hand was on my back, a calm, comforting touch. I lifted my head and looked at my mother. Even though I was a teenager and quickly outgrowing the idea that my parents were the coolest people on the planet, I still believed that my mother had theanswer to everything. I held on to that belief with a strength of conviction I didn’t think I’d ever lose.
My friends had always been so jealous of the relationship I had with my mom. They thought she was the coolest. She’d take me shopping, talk to me about boys, help me apply makeup that looked great. I was lucky.
Mom put her finger underneath my chin and lifted my face. “Sometimes we just need to look at something another way. Things are never so simple that there’s only one answer.”
I smiled. She smiled. Jayme smiled from across the table.
