Me: You what?
Benji: Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. When you go to my channel (Zzzz ...) my face is right there. Freaky shit.
Me: Zzzz ... ?
Benji: I was tired at the time.
I set the phone aside and start the computer. There’s only one video featured on his channel, and he wasn’t lying—his face isright there, taking up the whole screen like he zoomed in on himself. It makes me smile. I miss that scruffy face and man bun. Leaning back, I click on the video.
Benji’s sitting on his roof, holding the camera with one hand. He grins a huge, goofy grin, his eyes half-shut, and says, “Hey, ever—”
That’s it. That’s the end of the video.
Oh my god, my stomach hurts. I can’t stop laughing as I stare at his giant face frozen on the screen, his mouth hanging open and brows up in the air.
Benji: You just watched it, didn’t you?
Me: It’s amazing.
Benji: Right? My face is friggin HUGE!
I’m still chuckling when my phone rings. I know who it is without looking because only one person calls me.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How was it?” She has the best voice. It’s calm and gentle, with hidden musical notes she doesn’t even realize she’s hitting. “You still my Blue?”
My lips lift. “Always. Think I got a little too distracted during class though. I remember everything I saw through the windows and nothing the teachers said.”
She laughs, light and breezy. “Don’t let them confuse you, beautiful. They’re the ones distracting you from everything outside.”
My smile spreads, and I toy with our birthstones. “How’s New Mexico?”
A longing sigh filters through the phone. I hear her smile when she says, “Incredible. I wish you were here with me. The crystals, the sky, the mountains—all of it, Blue. The air whispers and sings in this part of the world.” There’s a pause, and I imagine her closing her eyes. “It’s ethereal.”
I close my eyes with her. “I wish I was there too.”
“I know. But ... this trip is good for us both.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I can feel it in my bones.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. Even though I don’t know what she means. And I don’t know why an ache has crept into my chest. Sometimes when my mom talks, her soul feels heavy, and I swear the weight of it presses on mine.
After a few moments of silence, she asks, “So ... how is he?”
“Tim?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Pushing the chair back, I stand and stroll to the window, staring at the clear blue sky before answering. “Good. I think? I don’t really know yet. I’m hoping to spend more time with him later, but I get the feeling he works a lot.”
“Yeah.” She lets out a small laugh, but it’s wistful. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about his wife? His stepdaughter?”
More silence seeps through the line. “I guess because ... I don’t know that part of his life. I do know Tim, though, and I trust him. You know I wouldn’t have sent you to stay with him if I didn’t. He’s just ... he’s a good soul, my Blue.”
