“What?” she asks, confused.
“Is this you asking because you’re curious? Or because you feel bad for not being around?”
Her head tilts to the side in more confusion. “Both. Honey, I know we’ve been checked out since Liam—” she can’t even say the word, “—but we still want to know what’s going on in your life.”
“Okay,” I lean against my dresser and bite my bottom lip as tears sting the back of my eyes, “well, I’m in weekly therapy and I also talk to my therapist three times a week, I’m an assistant general manager at Blue Pint Outpost, I finish up my final semester of undergrad in a couple of weeks, and the guy I’m seeing makes me see color for the first time in years.”
My mom’s eyes widen the longer I talk and I think it’s the most I’ve said to her when the conversation doesn’t revolve around piano.
“Wow,” she says and her eyes flutter when I notice tears tease her eyes. “Are you still playing piano?”
Her question shocks me, and I rear my head back in response. “You care?”
She nods slowly and taps the spot next to her on the bench. I hesitate before pushing off my dresser and closing the distance before taking the spot next to her. My mom takes one of my hands in hers and turns to me. “I’m sorry, Claire bear.”
“Liam died…”
“No. This apology is long overdue. And it’s before your brother,” she pauses at the word like it physically pains her to say it, “died. I’m sorry for not showing you the attention that we gave him. I think a part of me knew that you were more resilient than him—most girls are. But most of all, I’m sorry that I have no idea who you are. You’re my daughter and I have no idea about your life for the last two years—hell, for the last decade.”
My bottom lip trembles even when clamped between my teeth. “Thank you,” I reply watery. “I miss Liam. Every day.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“And I miss you and Dad. I hate that you two are gone so much.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a side hug. “It was just easier for us to go away since he’s gone. And I realize how unfair that is to you.”
If I were wearing makeup, it would be a mess. Tears track down my face unabashedly as my mom’s apology soaks into me.
“We’re going to be around more,” she says and kisses the top of my head. “Now tell me about this guy you’re seeing. Is he the same age as you or is he older?”
Shit. “We’re taking it slow. Getting to know each other better before we tell our families. And he’s older than me.”
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready?”
“Of course,” I rush out, “but I am worried that you won’t like him.”
“What’s not to like? As long as he’s not married or living in a basement, we’ll like him.”
You say that now, I say in my head. “I hope so.”
“We will. Okay, well, I’ll let you get to your dinner,” my mom says and stands up. “Have fun. And be safe.”
My face flames and I don’t miss the knowing smile on her face before she leaves my room. It’s not that I’ve never talked about sex with my mom, but Liam was the one to broach that topic first, and with me, I was always the wallflower type of girl who never thought that having sex was a big deal. I don’t think she would recognize me if I told her how I coped with losing him. When my door closes, I sit bemused on the bench. Never did I think we’d have a civil conversation. It’s not that my parents and I have never talked, but talking to one another and talking with them are two different things. And I haven’t talked with my parents in far too long.
I wipe the remaining tears off my face and snag my phone off the charger.
Me: I got held up. I’ll be there shortly.
B: Okay. Be safe.
I put what I need in my small purse and walk out of my room. The sound of the television being on when I walk down the stairs is a sound I haven’t heard in months—years, if I’m being honest with myself. My feet hesitate at the bottom of the stairs, but my head makes the choice, and I walk down the hallway that opens up to the living room and see my parents cuddled up on the couch. In their grief, it’s good to see that they’re still in love with each other.
“I’m leaving,” I announce.
My mom looks up with a smile. “Have fun, sweetie.”
“Bye, bear,” my dad says and sends an air kiss.
