“Where are you going?” I scoop Quinn up and stand.
The handle slides out of the top of Summer’s carry-on as she tugs on it. “I’m going to head out. I can stay at Julia’s…” Her sentence fades away as she studies a spot where the carpet meets the hardwood floor. “Now that I’m thinking about it…” She looks up at me, sighing. “My car is at her house. Is the guest bedroom still available?”
“Summer, my parents aren’t under any illusion that we aren’t sleeping together. You’re staying with me.”
It’s not up for debate, and thankfully, she doesn’t argue. Iwant her here. Just like I have every other night since she moved in.
After I tuck Quinn in bed and haul our luggage upstairs, I unpack my phone charger, plugging it in behind the rickety nightstand. I’d have missed her message if the device didn’t buzz.
CAROLINE: Thank you for the roses.
Words of encouragement from my dad run through my head.You did the right thing.
I let that be enough for now, climbing under the covers and turning off the light.
35
EVERETT
Ihear her before I see her. She’s walking Henry through his part, her hair tucked back in a clip. Reminding Isaac where he exits the stage with a ramp. Helping Etta fit her light-up sneakers on.
She’s a natural at this.
She moves from one child to the next fixing costumes, reassuring fears, and making everyone smile. I’d spend the entire talent show in the shadows of the audience just to watch her if I could.
“Aren’t you performing?”
Caroline’s voice startles me. I haven’t seen her or heard from her since her text about the Mother’s Day flowers last Sunday. Everything about my APD has been swirling social media, and I’m not sure how she’s taking it. I know I should have been the one to tell her. I never wanted to add to the list of reasons why she wishes she wasn’t tied to me. But now I know I should have trusted her with the truth regardless.
“Uh, yeah. Just taking it in from here. I never get to be in the audience.”
“A talented performer never should be,” she says.
It’s the first time Caroline has ever complimented my career, and I don’t know what to do with that.
“Caroline, I?—”
“Let me start,” she interrupts. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve handled things since…”
She lets that last part fade away. I don’t blame her for struggling to utter the words of El’s passing. Most days I keep it tucked inside a box so I don’t have to think about it either.
“A part of me envies you.” She’s staring at the stage as she says it. Avoiding eye contact with me. I never realized it before, but I think struggling to open up is something Caroline and I have in common. “You get to keep the only part of her that I have left.”
We watch Quinn pretend to fly in a pair of red construction paper wings. Laughter bubbles up from both of us when she almost trips and says, “Oopsie.”
“There’s so much of El in her,” I say.
“I think she has a lot of you too. She’s stubborn, for one.”
I snort. I had that coming.
“And thoughtful.”
“She also might have my disability,” I interject. “I had her tested for speech therapy.” Acknowledging it out loud to the one person who saw it even before I did feels utterly devastating all over again.
Caroline grasps my forearm. “She has yourstrength. That will carry her through anything, just like it’s done for you.”
A vulnerable and shakythank youfollows her compliment.
