ME:I don’t know.
I’m expecting a blameful message from him. Instead I get:Sorry you had to witness that.
No blame. I’m confused but relieved. I rub my forehead as I type back:Are you guys OK?
BEAST:I’m fine. Nev’s… emotional.
“Still think she’s such a great person, baby?” Mom asks.
I’m not sure what to think.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she says. “I don’t want you to enter her contest.”
I pale. “You promised!”
My mother gives me a look that makes me want to jump out thepassenger window and hike all the way home. “God, Angie, she hasn’t visited her kids in the two months they’ve been here.”
“She works a lot.” Why am I making excuses for Mona? To sway Mom into letting me compete?
Mom slaps the steering wheel, and it triggers the horn. Thankfully we’re no longer in front of the hotel. “I thought you liked Ten and Nev!”
“I do like them! But I also don’t hate her. And I’m sorry if that makes you mad, but that’s just the way it is.”
Mom doesn’t speak to me again during the entire drive home; I don’t talk either. We’d just say hurtful things. Instead, I focus wholly on my conversation with Ten.
ME:Bowling?
BEAST:I wish. Things are too tense over here. Let me see if I can get away later.
Even though it’s probably just my guilt talking, I ask:You’re really not mad at me?
BEAST:Why would I be?
Because I don’t hate your mother. I obviously don’t send that.Because I didn’t tell you I saw her.
BEAST:Did you ask her for an autograph?
ME:WHAT? No.
BEAST:Then I’m not mad. I’ll call you later. Promise.
ME:K.
I start typingLove you, but erase the words immediately. Most of my conversations with Rae end that way. They’re automatic, the same way people sayheyorbye.
Can’t believe I almost sent himLove you,though.
Once we get home, Mom vanishes into the kitchen while I go sit in front of the piano and play, and play. At some point, I sense Mom’s presence, and I look at her. Her face is still pinched, but I can tell she wants to snip the tension between us.
“She’s not a good mother,” I say. “I acknowledge that.”
Mom’s fingers tighten around her mug of tea.
“But Jeff makes up for it, the same way you make up for Dad’s absence.”
I toy with the keys on the piano, creating the beginning of a new melody. Something sad and forlorn inspired by Nev’s expression. A bottomless ache that resonates inside my bones.
“She might be my idol, but you’re my hero, Mom, because you have it all, a kid and a career.”
