“How do they have so much energy?”Tean said, mostly to himself.
“They’ve been eating a steady diet of sugar for the last day,” Jem said.He closed the notebook.He was holding it so tightly that it bent in his hand, but he couldn’t relax his grip.“I don’t know why I said that.”
Tean looked at him.
“About it being my fault.”Jem wiped his eyes again.They felt raw.“I just— You grow up in care, and enough people say it to you, and you start believing it.”
“People said that to you?”
Jem shook his head at the question.“I don’t even know what happened.Isn’t that fucked up?I know what they told me, but I don’tknow.She was gone, and I was in somebody else’s house.That’s all I knew.I asked them when I was older, and they told me about the drugs, about how it wasn’t safe for me.But she’s never told me her side of it.She’s never said anything about it.”
Tean was silent.
“She’s never going to say she’s sorry,” Jem said.His voice broke, and he took a deep breath.“She’s never going to wish it had been different.”
“Jem,” Tean whispered, and he put a hand on Jem’s back.
Jem shook his head again.“God, Tean, she had other kids.She had a whole life without me.She never looked back.And do you know what is themostfucked-up part about it?I can’t stop wanting her to be my mom.”
Tean rubbed his back.Then he slid his arms around Jem, turning, wrapping Jem in a hug.Jem hugged him back, but it was automatic; he couldn’t seem to relax, couldn’t seem to let the stiffness in his body ease.
“Jem, of course you want her to be your mom,” Tean said.“That’s human.Anybody would want that.And I’m sorry.I’m so sorry.I’m sorry she hasn’t been the kind of mom you deserve.I’m sorry for all of it.”
“It’s fine.It’s whatever.”But then Jem said, “Why is it so hard to stop wanting things to be different?”
“Because you’re grieving.”
Jem considered this.“Like she died.”
“Kind of.You’re grieving the loss of something you’ve wanted for a long time.”
He brought one hand up to smooth down Tean’s eyebrows.“And you’re grieving too.”
“I think so.It’s different for me; I know that.”
“Don’t do that.Don’t make it less.”Jem brushed a thumb over one wild eyebrow again.“I’m sorry your parents made you feel that way when you were growing up.”
“Jem, it’s fine.I had a home, and I was fed, and in their own way, my parents loved me.”Jem raised his eyebrows, and Tean laughed.“Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?”
“You can be mad at them.”
“I know.”Tean was quiet.His hand came to rest on Jem’s chest, and Jem thought, maybe, he was holding it exactly over Jem’s heart.“Yes, I’m angry.Yes, I’m grieving.Yes, I wish that part of my life had been different.”
They stood there, and Jem wondered if Tean could feel his heart beating faster now, if he could feel the unsteady drumbeat in his chest.
“There were a lot of kids,” Jem said, “who couldn’t let it go.”
Interest sharpened Tean’s gaze, but he didn’t say anything.
“Their parents.Their moms, most of the time.They wanted to go back so badly.And the adults never got it.These kids would run away.Run straight back home.And it might be a shithole.It might be dangerous.I knew a boy who had to sleep in the bathtub when his mom had guys come over.Or a girl whose mom was always high—so high she didn’t even know if her daughter was there or not.One girl, her mom tried to stab her; that’s why she was in care.And you know what?”
“She went back,” Tean said.
“They all went back.Do you know why?”
Tean shook his head.
“I don’t know either.The girl whose mom tried to stab her, she said she just wanted to look.What the fuck do you think about that?”
