“He loves to make pizza, apparently. Although I have yet to try it.”
Augie stood. “He sounds sonice, Mom.” She hugged her. They stood in silence until, finally, Augie turned away. The comfort of her mother always made her choke up, and now the morning’s melodrama was catching up with her.
“Hey.” Her mom slid her hand down the ends of Augie’s wet hair, flicking the water away. “Are you okay? I know this summer hasn’t been easy.”
Augie felt her stress expanding inside her. She sat down on her bed. “I just feel so pathetic. I keep messing everything up. I feel like I deserve all the bad stuff happening to me this summer. Like it’s karma. Like everything I worked for was for nothing.... in the end.”
“Oh, come on, now.” Her mom shook her shoulder. “I know losing the job was tough, but it’s only one job. Even if you messed up”—she paused, and for the first time, Augie wondered if her mom knew there was more to the story than the merger, if she sensed, in their closeness, something worse had happened—“there’s no point in beating yourself up about it. Regret is a wasted emotion, dear. You can’t change the past. Karma isn’t so black and white.”
Augie scrunched her forehead. She had never wanted to ask her mom about all her own regrets. Augie wondered if these mantras were how she coped.
“Do you really believe that?”
“What?”
“You really don’t have any regrets?”
Her mom pulled back. “Well, it’s impossible to not haveanyregrets. I regret not calling my dad the night before he died. I regret not going to my friend Allison’s wedding. I regret not keeping intouch with a few people. But it’s not worth ruminating over. You learn, do better.”
Augie pushed her tongue against her bottom teeth.
“You don’t regret Dad, Minnesota, never working in publishing? All this?” She gestured to her room.
To her surprise, her mom let out her real laugh, that perfect scale.
“I do kind of regret letting you paint the walls such a bright blue.” She squinted, holding her hand to her forehead as if blocking the sun. “But no, Aug. Of course not. You’d go crazy trying to compare paths not taken—playing the endless game ofwhat if.And believe it or not, I love my life.” She hugged Augie’s shoulders with one arm. “I love you. I loved your dad. I loved Maine. The restaurant. I love it here, too. I told you, karma isn’t so clear-cut. Things often work out in the end, despite the hardships. You have to give yourself some grace.”
Augie took a slow, shaky breath. She was surprised, but she felt a valve turning inside her, a pressure releasing from her center—one she hadn’t known was wound so tight. It had been years since she and her mom were vulnerable with each other. She’d always assumed she knew how her mom felt about everything—hadn’t wanted to challenge their perfect ecosystem.
“It’s going to be okay, Aug.” Her mom broke the silence as she stood and folded the last of Augie’s T-shirts. “Youhaveto get messy in life. No other way to become as wise and wonderful as your own mother.” She batted her lashes.
Augie shifted her weight on the bed, growing so fully sick of thinking about herself, she couldn’t stand it. “Okay, so”—she hit her thighs—“when do we do a pizza party with Pug and Peter? And all the pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?”
Her mom laughed again with her head back. “Touché, darling. Soon, soon. Let’s plan a party promptly.”
22
The boys were screaming, and Danika had a headache. She sat alone on the steps of the Big Room, watching them attempt to play mini golf. They’d gotten the set last year for Christmas: a nine-hole felt course complete with plastic flags and clubs and rainbow-colored balls. It was one more attempt by Bill to make them love golf. They typically paid it no mind, but Chat had motivated them to use it this summer.
Cooper still preferred to arrange the balls in patterns and hit them apart. He liked how it sounded, like a firework, he said. Max liked the golf aspect at least a little. He’d swing and miss, swing and miss, pick up the ball and plop it in the hole.
Even now, Cooper kept taking breaks to tell Danika about his latest picture book. Since art camp, he’d been drawing fervently. He’d completed his fairy-tale series, another about squirrels living above a neighborhood, and now, he was plotting a story about a magic stingray that gives a boy superpowers. “The whole thing takes place underwater,” he’d explained.
Danika thought it was charming, but she didn’t want to hear about it today. Her head was pounding. She’d slept like hell. She’dtold Bill she’d left the party because she felt sick.Too much wine.He hadn’t pried, hadn’t come home until eight a.m.
Danika couldn’t stomach the thought now, that both Chat and Bill were lying to her. Betraying her. She felt confused and hurt—but she knew she needed to harness her anger. She knew, from experience, it was better to feel mad than heartbroken.
Danika was glad they were gone today. They were playing an invitational in Apple Valley and wouldn’t be back until late. Even so, that morning, she’d waited until the last minute to go downstairs. She’d barely looked at them as she ushered the boys to the playroom. She sensed their paranoia, all their lies and half-truths pulling them under.
Danika let out a breath when they finally left the house. She needed time to think.
“Mom, look at this.” Cooper squatted near the fake sand trap, a patch of tan felt. Inside, he’d lined up the balls in a spiral.
Max stumbled over and grabbed the blue ball at the center, and Cooper screamed.
“Boys.” Danika rubbed her temples.
“You can’t have that one.” Cooper pried the ball from Max’s fist while Max wailed.
