“Like you joining the internet world and then courageously facing Dad’s garden. I haven’t even stepped foot in here yet.”
It’s now or never. I feel every muscle in my body tighten, bracing myself. “I didn’t take care of the flower beds this week.”
Harper snorts. “Well, ignore my previous comment. What company did you hire?”
“Noah did.”
Her head snaps toward me. “Wait—Dad’s friend Noah?”
I nod. “He offered. I didn’t ask him to, but I said yes.”
Harper’s expression shifts—eyebrows pinched, lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s… a little weird, Mom.”
I swallow. “It wasn’t like that. He just helped out.”
She doesn’t respond right away, and my pulse starts to flutter in the silence that’s stretching much too long. Harper’s eyes don’t leave the screen, even though it’s halftime and we’re currently watching some horrible commercial for soap.
“Are you… seeing him?”
“No.” The word comes out too quickly. “No. I’m not seeing anyone. But I guess I’ve started wondering what that would even look like. If it would ever feel okay. Maybe I don’t want to be alone forever, because he’s not coming back.” My voice sounds strained, despite my efforts to keep it calm, sure, in parent mode.
Harper pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them. “It just feels fast. Or maybe not fast. I don’t know. I thought I was okay with everything, but then I imagine someone else in Dad’s garden, and it makes my skin crawl a little.”
Guilt floods me, washing over me in waves that make my chest ache and my heart pound. “Harper, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Of course you’d feel something about it. I do too.”
She shakes her head, eyes shiny now. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I haven’t figured out how to let go of him yet. And every time something changes, it feels like I’m supposed to be ready for it. But I’m not. Not all the way.”
I nod, throat tight. “I get it. I really do. You don’t have to let go of him, honey. He’ll always be some of the best parts of you.”
She leans her head back against the couch cushion. “You deserve to have a life. I know that. I want that for you. I’m just not totally there yet. I might need a little more time.”
I might need a little more time too.
“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”
Harper wipes at her cheek, then reaches for another handful of popcorn. “Okay. New topic. Root beer or ginger ale? You’re allowed one probiotic soda and one emotional landmine per night.”
I laugh, relief and love bubbling up all at once. “Root beer.”
She holds up the can solemnly. “To the root of our problems.”
I clink it with mine. “And to not making any gardening metaphors for the rest of the night.”
“Thank God.” She pops the tab and settles back in. “Now, what are the odds Matt does his hair flip after his next free throw?”
“Well, he’s a show-off, so… That goes without saying.”
______________
Viv appears on-screen first, her face covered in a green and goopy substance, and there’s something that looks like smoke drifting in the background. “Okay, don’t freak out, but I’m detoxing my aura.”
I squint at my screen. “Is that sage? Or is your kitchen actually on fire?” I’m not even going to ask what Frank licking his paw has to do with Viv’s aura.
“Nope, just sage. And a little eucalyptus. And maybe an essential oil I bought from a woman named Moonlight at the farmer’s market.” Viv’s face vanishes briefly as she waves smoke toward the camera with a giant feather. Then she’s back and picking up what appears to be a chunk of rose quartz, swinging over her heart like it’s a defibrillator for her soul. “I’maligning my heart chakra,” she announces dramatically, “because apparently, some people think I’m emotionally constipated.”
Definitely skipping pleasantries.
“That wasn’t this week’s dare,” Marin deadpans as she logs on, looking like she’s doing nothing but sipping tea for our virtual, weekly girls' pampering evening. “For the record, I’m also pampering myself.” She holds up a spoon. “Chocolate mousse. Straight from the fridge. No regrets. I’m also preparing to put on my red light mask.”
