“Possibly,” I said. “It was a picnic.”
She blinked. “Awhat?”
“A picnic,” Ava said brightly, her voice bubbling over with excitement. “With the Grim Reapers! They’re roller skaters! Belle invited us, and there was music and pork chops, and I met Leo, and he has a tutu and Dad—” she caught herself, glancing at me before continuing, “—and Mom fell down, but it was really funny, and everyone laughed, and it was the best day ever!”
I watched her, heart swelling. The words tumbled out of her so fast she could barely breathe between them, her hands waving for emphasis. She hadn’t talked like that in months.
My mom, meanwhile, looked horrified.
“You were roller skating?” she asked, like I’d confessed to joining a motorcycle gang.
“Just around the park,” I said. “It was fun.”
“Fun?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Eleanor, you’re a grown woman. You have a child. What on earth possessed you to do something so—so?—”
“Undignified?” I supplied gently.
Her mouth snapped shut, but the answer was obvious.
Ava didn’t seem to notice the tension; she was still chattering. “Mom wasreallygood at first! And then she fell, but Leo's dad fixed her knee, and he was nice, and Belle said we could come to another skate sometime!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” I said, smiling. “Now, how about a bath before we turn into pumpkins?”
“Can we watch a movie after?”
“Absolutely.”
She darted off toward the stairs, humming something that sounded suspiciously like “Impossible” fromCinderella.
When she was gone, the silence stretched.
My mom crossed her arms. “You really think it’s wise, gallivanting around on skates like a teenager? What if you’d broken something?”
I sighed. “Then I would’ve gotten it fixed.”
“This isn’t a joke, Eleanor. You need to think about the kind of example you’re setting.”
“I am,” I said quietly. “And I think showing Ava that her mom can try new things and laugh when she falls might be a pretty good one.”
She frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” I said, brushing past her toward the kitchen. “But it’s what I meant.”
She followed me halfway down the hall. “You’ve changed.”
I paused, turning just enough to meet her gaze. “Good.”
For once, I didn’t say it like an apology.
Later that night,the house was finally calm again. The only light came from the soft glow of the TV and the string of fairy lights Ava had insisted on hanging above the headboard.
We’d piled into my bed with a blanket that smelled faintly of fabric softener and summer grass. Ava had chosen the movie,Coraline,of course, and was curled against me in her pajamas, damp hair leaving a dark spot on my shoulder.
She was still buzzing, her voice sleep-slurred but unstoppable.
“Mom, did you see when Belle skated backward and didn’t even fall?”
“I did,” I said, smiling. “She’s very good.”
