I close my eyes tightly together and brace myself for what will come next. I used to seek comfort in my nana, but now she’s choosing sides and it’s complicating things. “What is it?”
There’s another heavy pause on the other end, and when she speaks again, it feels like a punch to the gut. “It’s your mother. She’s been trying, Emma. She’s trying to change. I think it’s time for you to talk to her.”
My chest tightens again, but now it feels so tightly wound I can’t conceive coming apart again. All of a sudden, I miss Henry’s calming presence. I almost wish that he was here right now.
“Nana,” I start, unsure of how to explain everything to her for the tenth time. She was the first person I confided in when I started going to therapy. I told her about my decision to create boundaries with my mother, and she was supportive at first. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Dr. Wells says I should—” Before I can continue, she cuts me off.
“It’s just that she’s your mother, and she’s trying to make amends. I’m not saying you have to forgive her overnight, but maybe just hear her out.”
My heart sinks when I realize my Nana doesn’t want to listen. She called me with one thing in mind and it wasn’t to ask how I’m doing or how Milo is. A crack starts to form in the solid foundation I’ve spent months forming in therapy. I was losing control all over again.
I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles whitening as Isteady myself. This time, my voice comes out quieter, giving her one last chance. “I’ve tried this before. Over and over again. I’m not saying she can’t change, but that doesn’t erase the past or how it made me feel.”
I hear her long and heavy sigh weighing down her end of the phone. The crack starts to deepen, and I know it’s useless to hope for her understanding. “I know, sweetheart. I know it hasn’t been easy. But peoplecanchange. She talks about you and Milo all the time?—”
Now I cut her off. “It’s not about what she’s doing now. It’s about what she didn’t do then. You can’t undo years of damage by deciding to give a sh—to care about my life now. If she can decide when she wants to be in my life, I can decide when I want her to be.”
For a moment, silence echoes between us. It was killing me to talk to my Nana like this. She was the one who was always there for me when my mom wasn’t. She was supposed to be there for me now, but it hurts to know where her loyalty lies.
“I’m not telling you what to do. All I’m saying is she misses you, Emma. She misses Milo. She wants to be part of your lives again. I just want you to think about it.”
She could say the same thing over and over again, but I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. I spent most of my childhood clinging to empty words and broken promises. I was constantly disappointed by the one person who was supposed to love me unconditionally.
Sometimes, it felt like something was very broken deep inside of me. Something that could only be healed by the woman who decided I was more of a burden than a blessing. That feeling lingered, sharp and unforgiving, every time I looked at my son. I couldn’t bear the thought of him carrying the same weight.
My throat tightens, but I manage a clipped “I’ll think about it” before hanging up.
I look down and my hands are shaking. The hollow feeling spreads before I notice a habit I thought I’d kicked when I was a kid. My eyes drift to the window, where a pale sliver of light cuts through the overcast sky.
For a moment, I let myself believe my mother has changed and how good it would feel to have the relationship I’ve craved for most of my life. I only let the thought in for a second before I push it out so quickly I can’t let myself hope.
Hope was a dangerous thing. I wouldn’t let myself experience it because there was a sinking inevitability that it would be ripped out of my hands without a reason or explanation. I was used to the emptiness of expecting the worst from people.
With a deep breath, I let go of the impending wave of sadness I would drown in later. I push those feelings to the side and turn back to the familiar quietness of the library waiting for me.
CHAPTER 12
Istep out of the office, my pulse still thrumming with the echoes of my conversation with my Nana. There’s a heaviness in my gut that feels like it could combust at any moment.
I round the corner to collect my things from the desk where I’d left Henry, but I stop in my tracks when I see a familiar mop of dark brown hair.
I almost trip over my own feet when I see him. He’s sitting exactly where I left him, lazily leaning back in his chair, one hand resting against his chin. His laptop is closed, and his gaze is unfocused, like he’s lost in thought.
And then my heart stops when he looks up at me. His face lightens with a small, familiar smile. The kind that feels like it was molded just for me.
“You stayed,” I breathe out as my legs move toward him.
“Of course I did,” he says casually.
My body freezes, and suddenly, I don’t know what to do with my hands—or with the familiar warmth spreading through me, filling every hollow space I thought would stay empty forever.
“You didn’t have to,” I blurt out. Why did he have to stay?Why did he have the ability to make me forget I was a shell of a person two seconds ago?
“I know,” he replies nonchalantly. “But I figured you might not want to be alone. I don’t want to assume anything, but I could tell that wasn’t a happy phone call.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t think of what to say next. Right before my phone call, I was ready to come clean. I was going to tell him how I felt before I was reminded how easy it is for people to hurt you when you give them that power.
“Why do you have to do that?” I ask. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, but I knew I wanted to be alone. Henry made it too easy to forget my pain, but the reminder of my past was the only thing giving me the power to maintain boundaries.
