“Of course not,” I say, although that does raise the question of how theydidwant me to find out, if they had concocted some kind of plan that would’ve made it feel cool and normal that my mother was dating her dead husband’s drummer. Any method would’ve been less destructive, I’m sure, than the one I accidentally chose for myself, but none would’ve been painless. I look down at my hands. “Can you just confirm something for me?”
“Of course.”
My eyes ricochet between Mom and the staircase. “This is all just…this is just the past few months right? Nothing like…before?”
“Oh heavens, I would never.” Mom leaps on her answer with reflexes I didn’t know she had. She doesn’t sound offended so much as it seems like this might be the first time the thought has occurred to her. “I wouldn’t…oh, Alice, no. It’s not like that atall.” Her eyes crinkle with a sad smile as she shakes her head. “I’m lonely, Alice. I miss your father. I miss him so, so much.” Her voice frays, and a prickle inches up my throat. This is part of it. The reason I haven’t been home in so long. I hate seeing my mother cry, and I’m sick of crying myself. Mom starts again. “Kurt misses him, too. He lost one of his best friends. He understands what I’m going through because he’s going through it, too. Something very similar at least. And it’s…it’s good for us to have each other. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” I blot the tears with the side of my hand. “I’m glad you have that. I’m glad you’re not alone.”
“You need to understand—I’d been losing your father for a very, very long time,” Mom goes on. “Long before he was actually gone. I did everything I could to support him. I was with him until the bitter end. But, God, was it bitter.”
“I know,” I remind her. “I was there, too.”
“You were, I know you were. But there was plenty we didn’t let you see, Alice.”
I frown. What doesthatmean?
Her gaze drops into her tea. “That summer we sent you to band camp instead of bringing you to the Outpost? Remember?” She looks up. I nod. “We tried to have an intervention. The whole band had agreed to make it a sober house for the summer, but it…he wasn’t willing.”
My heart boomerangs, my voice low and thin. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to see your father that way.”
“So…you lied?” Something withers in my chest.
“No, honey, no.” Mom’s voice is thick with a hurt I haven’theard since last year. Likely because I haven’t beenaroundto hear it. “I knew I’d tell you someday, but you were so young then. We wanted to protect you. But, of course, in the end…” She shakes her head with a sputtering sigh. “There was no preventing you from seeing him like that.” She closes her eyes. “Oh, Alice. You don’t know. You don’t know the nights I spent calling ambulances or staying up wondering if he was going to make it home safe.”
The world sways and tilts around me, my reality warping in real time. “I had no idea.”
“I didn’t want you to,” Mom says. “But it’s just…it’s been so lonely for so long. And if not for Kurt these last few months…I couldn’t do this alone.”
I break like an egg, the tears coming all at once. I peel myself out of the armchair, and Mom throws out her arms. She’s crying now, too, and I bury my face in Mom’s long silver hair. I let myself just be her daughter.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak out. “For all of it. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Mom says. “And I’m not alone, sweetie, I’m not alone. I’m so glad you’re here. I love you.”
“I love you.”
We stay like this for a good long while, taking turns crying and apologizing. I’m sorry that I blew off rescheduling dinner, but she knows it was an accident. She’s sorry that she wasn’t clear about needing to talk to me about something in person, but I know she was trying to keep from driving me further away. She wanted me home, and now I am, even if just for the evening. And itisstill home, even after all these months. Even if Dad isn’t here.
I’m not sure how much time passes before a long, drawn-outcreak echoes from the staircase, the sound of one hesitant step. It’s the sound a question mark would make if it could speak.
“Kurt, honey?” Mom sits up, dabbing at her nose with her sleeve. I do the same with mine, composing myself enough to be perceived.
“You can come down,” I call out, and Mom looks at me with so much gratitude. More than I deserve, considering the question I have yet to ask. A few more creaks of the stairs later, I summon enough courage to say “I actually need to talk to both of you. I kind of have a favor to ask.”
Mom grunts a laugh and rolls her eyes. “So that’s why you’re here. I should’ve known.”
My pulse charges ahead. “It’s not just—”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Mom lays a hand on my knee with a smile that doubles as an apology. Kurt appears just behind her, looking cautious but hopeful. “What do you need?” Mom asks.
I pinch one red button on the front of my jumpsuit. “It’s not really for me,” I admit. “It’s for the bride.”
Twenty-three
I haven’t been back to Galena in years, but I could still make the drive to the Outpost with my eyes closed. It’s perhaps the only trip I can make without a GPS, actually—seven or so years later, every landmark and speed trap is still mapped in my memory. Once we’re past the city traffic, it’s three hours of mostly farmland, all lush and green from the rain. As many times as I’ve done this drive, it’s my first time leading a convoy—Rishi trails behind me with Gin and his parents, and Mom and Kurt bring up the rear. Beside me, Chrissy is riding shotgun in the truck, humming along to country songs she definitely doesn’t actually know. Renee is in the back, so quiet I can almost forget she’s even there.
