I flop back next to her with my own hairbrush, turning my head to grin at her. “Right? A hairbrush karaoke moment is always a good idea.”
After I picked up Riley at school, we stopped by Cam’s so she could change her clothes and then I brought her to my house for a little girl time. By the time we got here, she was quiet and a little withdrawn, a palpable kind of sadness pouring out of her. I could tell that the very last thing she wanted was for me to ask her about it, so instead I turned on theMamma MiaOriginal Broadway Cast Recording and handed her a hairbrush. For the first few bars of the song, she looked at me like I was insane, but just as I suspected, it only took about twenty seconds for her inner theater kid to show itself.
“I’ve been so busy with play practice and learning all the lines and choreography and everything that I forgot how much Iactually like the music.” Riley goes quiet for a second, staring at the ceiling before turning her head to face me. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “For coming to pick me up and everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me for that. I would do anything for you. Seriously.” I reach over and take her hand, knowing there’s more she wants to say.
“I don’t really remember my mom.”
Bingo.
The words come seemingly out of nowhere, but I know better. They’re thoughtful, slow. Like she’s trying to give voice to her most sacred thoughts. The ones maybe she didn’t even realize she had until today. And she’s telling me. Asking me to help her understand. “You were pretty young when she died.”
Riley nods. “I was three. Sometimes I get little flashes of her, but I can never tell whether it’s an actual memory or just something that’s in my head because my dad showed me a picture or told me a story. He talks about her a lot.”
I smile at that, squeezing Riley’s hand. “He’s a really good dad. He wants to make sure you know your mom. Who she was. How much she loved you and your brother.”
“I know. And I don’t get sad or anything usually. I mean, there are times when I see my friends with their moms and wonder what it would be like to have one, but I’ve never known anything other than this, and you’re right that my dad is a really good dad. The best. We have him, and Lola, and now Liv, and I had a really good time on Thanksgiving with all the girls in your family, and I guess I’ve never felt like I was missing anything.”
“Until today?” I ask carefully.
She nods, rolling to her side to face me. “Yeah. Until today. I didn’t feel so great all day. My stomach was hurting and I just felt…off. When I went to the bathroom during math and realized what was going on, for a few minutes I was really, really sad. Lola taught me all about periods and whatever, and that was always fine, but when it actually happened?” She shakes her head. “Ididn’t realize it would be so hard. I’ve never felt that way before. That’s when I called you.”
I feel a rush a tenderness for this girl who is both still so young and also not, just looking for someone to tell her that what she’s feeling is okay. “I’m glad you called me. I’m glad I can be here for you today.”
Riley furrows her brow, like she’s trying to work something out in her head. “Do you think my dad will be, like, upset or anything that I didn’t call him? Or sad that even though he’s here, the only parent I could think about today was the mom I don’t even know?”
Riley’s words make my heart ache for her at the same time as I feel a wave of admiration for the way Cam has parented his kids. How, all on his own, and in the face of a towering, traumatic loss and a time-consuming and extraordinarily demanding career, he raised a kind, thoughtful daughter and gave her the language to articulate and process her own grief on her own timeline. He’s incredible, and sitting here with his daughter, I lose my heart just a little more. “He’s not upset with you, Riley. Never with you and definitely not for this. I talked to him before I picked you up, remember?”
She nods.
“The only thing he was worried about was you. He wanted to know that you were taken care of in whatever way felt right to you. He loves you, Riley. So, so much. And it’s so normal that you’re thinking about your mom today and maybe even wishing a little that she was here.”
“Did you?” Riley asks. “Think about your mom when you got your period for the first time? I mean, I know Emma is your mom but your other mom? Like, the mom who had you? Sorry, I don’t know all the right words to use.”
“I did.” My stomach clenches a little as I let my mind drift back to a place it doesn’t go all that often. “I was really young when my biological mom died, so I don’t remember her much either. At all, really. I love my parents, but it’s hard not to thinkabout where I came from. Especially on important days. It’s hard not to wonder what my life would have been like if she hadn’t died.”
“Yes.” Riley says the word on an exhale tinged with relief, and for a second, we sit in the silence of perfect understanding. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”
I smile. “I know. It felt wrong at first. Like I was being disloyal to my parents by thinking about my biological mom. But I wasn’t. And it’s not disloyal to your dad to think about your mom—today or any day. All of these people had a hand in making us who we are, even if they’re not here anymore. Honoring that is important. If you asked my parents or your dad, I know for sure they would tell us both the same thing. And you know what else?” I think of the moment in my office. The grief in Cam’s eyes.
“What?”
“I think your dad is thinking of your mom today, too, and missing her a little extra.”
Riley’s eyes sharpen with interest. “You think so?”
“I do. It’s a big day for you, and I think maybe he’s kind of sad that your mom isn’t here for it.”
She smiles a little. “That makes sense. He loved her a lot.”
“I know he did. I’m glad he had a great big love. He deserves that.”
“I think maybe he loves you a lot too.”
My heart literally skips a beat at Riley’s words, and I forget to breathe for a second because I think that I want her to be right. That I would really like to be loved by Cameron Lowry. “I don’t know about that,” I say carefully. “It hasn’t been very long.”
She rolls her eyes and gives me the quintessential teenageAre you stupidlook. “That doesn’t matter. I have eyes, and I see the way he looks at you.” Her lips turn up in a smirk. “And the way you look at him. Anyway, what’s for lunch? I’m starving.”
