“Which friend? I don’t remember you saying.”
I’ve told her about Marigold before. Only bad things. “Um…you haven’t met her.”
“That’s nice of her family to let you stay with her. I hope you told them that. It looks like a very nice place. What do her parents do for a living?”
Why is my mother always like this? Why does she keep pushing, and pushing, and pushing, like she’s mining for precious ore?
“They’re musicians. Listen, Mom—”
She starts twisting around again, trying to see, even though I take a seat on a sofa and very carefully keep the phone positioned so the only thing she can view is the emerald-green wallpaper. “Are her parents there? I’d love to meet them.”
“No. Her dad’s on tour right now. He’s with the Philharmonic.”
“Oh? He left you two alone there?”
Jesus Christ, this conversation will never end. “Mom,I really have to—”
“Wait,” my mother breathes, sudden elation dawning on her face as she putsPhilharmonicandrichtogether. “Is this—are you at that girl’s house?”
Okay, scratch the wallpaper plan. I twist around in my seat so the camera shows Marigold and the piano behind me.She’s right here, Mom, don’t say anything stupid.
“Hi, Mrs. Larson,” Marigold says, venturing a small wave.
Luckily my mother, while a little obtuse sometimes, isn’t quite so bad as to insult someone to their face. “Hi there,” she says, suddenly all small-town charm. “It’s Marigold, right?”
“Nice to meet you,” Marigold says. “Even if it’s just over video chat.”
“Nice to meet you, too. What are the pair of you up to? Are you studying?”
I don’t know how to explain to my mom that this entireconversation is making me want to turn to dust right now. Not without Marigold picking up on it, anyway.
“Just practicing,” I say. “Marigold’s going to be playing at Stockholm, too.”
“That’s wonderful. I bet your parents are very proud.”
“My dad is thrilled,” Marigold says. “It’s all he talks about anymore.”
But her smile seems pasted-on. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to facetime with someone else’s parent, either.
“Anyway, yeah, I’ve gotta go,” I say, turning the camera back around to show just me. “I’ll call you back tonight. Okay?”
“Okay,” my mom says, and she gives me a big old wink, like she thinks I’m off to practice something besides music with Marigold Gensler. “I’ll talk to you then. Be safe, sweetie.”
And then she hangs up.
Be safe.Fuck me and my fucking life. I really hope she meantBe safefrom unexpected lightning strikes,and not…anything else.
“So, your mom seems nice,” Marigold says, when neither of us has spoken in so long, the silence has become almost unbearable.
I laugh before I can stop myself, tipping my head back against the edge of the sofa. “Yeah. She tries her best.”
“You look a lot like her.”
“Nah,” I say. “That was my brother. Adam could’ve been her twin.”
Marigold raises her brows. “I remember you mentioned a brother once. Is he older or younger?”
“Younger. And it’swas.He died the fall of sophomore year.”
