She lowers her head in shame. “Pane and I have talked, though I doubt anything will ever fully heal the rift between all of us.” She sniffles. “I didn’t want you to be like me, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, so I taught you to let go first.”
Her words are a punch to the gut. She taught me how to let go first, how to distrust first, how to leavefirst. How to ignore what someone’s saying and abandon them before they have a chance to abandon me.
Just like I did with Coco when I left her in the chapel, all alone, when she tried to explain why she’d let me be an amnesiac—for the town, and for me, because of who it made me.
She stood there in that wedding dress trying to tell me the truth, and I left her.
A heaviness sets in my chest. It weighs me down, like someone has rested a boulder on my heart.
It’s familiar, almost cozy, a feeling I’ve embraced for years, but for a few short weeks I didn’t have it. I was lighter. Honest. Open. I want that again. Not the man trained to leave, but the one brave enough to stay.
I want to be who I’m supposed to be. It’s what I deserve.
The weight that’s been pressing on me suddenly lifts, and I feel a hundred pounds lighter.
“You may never forgive me,” Sylvia whispers.
It’s almost a question. My answer comes swiftly. “I can try.”
“What?”
“I can try . . . Mom.”
Her eyes well with tears and she nods. “Thank you.”
I nod back. It’s all I’ve got in me.
“My plane taxis in half an hour. I must go.”
I rise and walk her to the door. “Thank you for coming.”
She gives me a timid grin and opens her mouth to say something, but then throws her arms around my waist and hugs me.
The last time my mom hugged me, I must’ve been ten years old. For a split second, I’m not sure what to do, but then I relax and pull her tight, hold her close and feel how small she is, how frail, how she smells of jasmine.
I don’t think I’ve realized how fragile she is until now. She’s a small, thin woman who won’t live forever, one who wants to have a relationship with her children.
Something inside me breaks as she holds me. Tears fill my eyes until one falls, dripping onto her head, and I gently brush it away.
She looks up. “Is everything okay?”
I nod, feeling my lips tipping upward. “Everything’s just as it should be, and there’s some steel beams that need to be returned.”
Chapter 50
Coco
When I knock on the doorframe, Dot puts down her crochet hook. There’s a new afghan in her lap. It’s a patchwork of mermaid colors—aqua and purple.
I love it.
She squints. “Look what the cat dragged in. You gonna tell me what the hell happened, or are you gonna make me guess?”
I nearly laugh at the welcome. I really didn’t expect anything else. Or more, actually.
I take a seat on the herpes-free bed and drop my purse beside me. “I did what I was supposed to.”
My voice must betray sadness, because Dot cocks her head, studying me. “What did you lose?”
