He’s being the Mason I used to love, and he’s still crappy in some ways.He didn’t stay here for the kids?Ourkids?Really?But he’s also saying the things my heart longs to hear.That I wasn’t a complete moron.That he reallydidlove me, in spite of the way he behaved.That I’m not a complete loser who was duped and mistreated our entire marriage.
That he regrets what he did.
That leaving me, that losing me, was the great mistake of his life.
I don’t want to take him back, but it does heal my heart a little bit to know that he wishes he’d been better.Done better.I stand a little straighter when I march my way back to Clara’s shared room and tap.“Clara, can you come out?”
“No,” she whispers.“I might wake Amelia.”
“Get out here now,” I say.“Or I’ll wake her for you.”
She creeps out, her eyes darting back and forth.“Mom, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Which is exactly why we need to.”I fold my arms, and I point down the hall at the family room and the sparkling tree.
“The scene of the crime?”Her eyebrows rise.“Really?”
I laugh.“Not acrime,” I say.“The start of something, I assume.Or have you been doing that for a while?”I carefully close the door.
“Mom.”She blushes bright red.“Yes, it was the start, geez.”
I’m smiling as we walk back into the family room, dark but for the twinkling lights of our Christmas tree.“Alright, then tell me what’s going on.”
She sits on the edge of the couch, so I take the chair.She’s staring at her hands.“I mean, I like him.I’ve liked him since we got here, I guess.”
I knew that much.“And?”
Her head snaps up.“He likes me, too.”A tiny, almost secret smile brightens her face.“And tonight, he told me that.So I kissed him.”
She kissed him.We’re in for it, now.“And you’re happy about it.”
She nods.“Please don’t yell and ruin it.”
“I’m not going to yell,” I say.“But I will just say, it’s high school.Emotions and hormones are high, and?—”
She groans.“Hormones, Mom?Really?”
I chuckle.“Fine.I won’t blame your hormones.”Even though everyone but her can see that Trace’s main draw is his appearance.“I’ll just say this.”I run a finger down the side of her face.“You’re beautiful and bright and perfect, and you’re very, very young.Please be smart and careful, too.”
“I’m not going to sleep with him, Mom, geez.”
I laugh.“I didn’t mean that, though that’s good to hear.I meant, be careful with your heart.It’s fragile, and it’s perfect.Boys are all a bit of a gamble, but especiallythisboy.”
“Because he used to smoke pot?”She arches one eyebrow.
“Because he’s so beautiful,” I say.“And he knows it.”
She laughs, and then she hugs me.“I love you, Mom.”
When I go to bed that night, I can’t decide whether an ‘I love you,’ in this circumstance means that I said the right things, or that I didn’t go hard enough.I wish kids did come with a manual, because I have no idea whether this extra pile of screws I have leftover means I’m doing things all wrong or the factory just sent too many.
I’m just left to guess, but the stakes feel a lot higher than with a nightstand from Ikea.
22
Samantha
In my seven years of training to become a health care provider, I spent quite a bit of time learning about the human body’s response to acute physical trauma.Damage comes in three main varieties: penetrating, blunt, and deceleration.Each of them has its own difficulties, but some things are the same with each.The body shuts down certain systems and ramps up others with one main goal: survival.
