“What are you up to?”
He plops on the mattress next to me, holding out the largest bag of candied pecans one can buy at a concert. “They’re not peonies, but I had to work with what I had.”
“Mmm… is this the kind of thank-you a woman can expect after sleeping with you?”
He scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Happy Mother’s Day, Summer.”
I stare at the nuts but envision a calendar. May. Sunday.Is that what today is?“But I’m not a…”
He leans in, resting his palm right by my thigh. I can feel the heat of his hand as he brushes our noses together. “You take care of the people around you better than anyone I know. You don’t have to be the world’s definition of a mom to deserve to be celebrated.”
34
EVERETT
It’s late evening when we land in Boise. I texted Caroline our arrival time so she’d know when to expect us home and got a one-word response—okay.I’ve never tried to dissect four letters more in my life.
“She’ll get past it.” Summer plants a warm hand on my knee as I stare at my phone screen.
Our Uber driver’s GPS announces a left turn onto Harrison Boulevard, and my stomach clenches. Managing to come up with something to say on the spot to an arena of strangers feels far less intimidating than the handful of important people I kept my disability from. I wanted to wait to have this conversation. Explain where I was coming from when I could speak to my in-laws in person. It’s what my therapist recommended. Now that it’s here I’m nervous.
“I know,” I reply. I glance out the window, counting the illuminated lampposts that stamp my childhood street. Deep down I believe Caroline won’t hate me forever. But I’m disappointed at the notion that we may have taken a step back after the slight progress we’ve made.
When we pull up to the sidewalk, I’m too busy gatheringluggage and thanking our driver to notice the missing black vehicle in the driveway. Anxious to see Quinn, I blow through the front door and dump our bags in the entryway. I holler her name and turn the corner to find her snuggled up on the couch between the last two people I expected to see.
“Daddy!” Quinn squeals, scooting off the edge of the sofa and sprinting for my open arms.
I catch her, tucking my face in the handful of curls clutched in my palm. The familiar citrusy scent of her detangler slowly dissolves the ache I’ve been carrying around with her absence. “I missed you so much.”
“Me too,” Quinn says, letting go and running to Summer.
My mom pulls me in for a hug. “Surprised?”
“So surprised. What about Paris? London? The rest of the summer?”
“We have the rest of our lives to travel. We couldn’t miss this talent show we’ve been hearing so much about,” she says, letting go so my dad can take a turn.
“Is there any topic you and Emma don’t cover during those phone calls of yours?” I smirk at her over his shoulder.
“Actually, Quinn told Caroline. Caroline told me,” she clarifies.
I crane my neck toward the kitchen, then the back patio. “Where are they?”
“They left after dinner. Both were pretty tired. Quinn couldn’t keep anything down last night.”
“What?” I drop to squat, testing Quinn’s forehead. Why does something happen every time I’m away? I relax when the back of my hand is met with an average temperature and a lack of clammy skin. No fever.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was sick. I didn’t want you to worry,” Summer says.
“I fine,” Quinn pipes in before running back to her spot on the couch to finish herSpideyepisode.
When I stand and face Summer, she’s biting her lip and squeezing her thumb joint. Putting herself through another round of self-deprecating silence I experienced in my Denver dressing room. Choosing to leave Quinn to protect me is not something I’m holding against her. I part her hands, clasping our fingers together. “It’s okay. Caroline and Wade were here for her.”
A hand is thrust between us. “You must be Sybil.”
“Adam!” Mom swats his forearm, scolding under her breath.
“Just lightening the mood.” He winks. “Nice to finally meet you, Summer.”
