Page 97 of Autumn on My Mind

“It was,” I realize with a start, and I inspect him more closely now. His attention remains trained on the sun-speckled grave.

Is he wondering what his future looks like, now that Alvina has entered Daryl’s life? Is he remembering the woman buried here, feeling like she might be replaced by my mother soon? Is he comparing them?

Because that comparison is inevitable, good or bad, and a sense of discomfort washes over me. I know it’s not my fault our parents are dating, but somehow I feel responsible all the same. Guilt by association.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dom says suddenly, and I startle, pulled back to the present to find his eyes on me.

“Like what?” I say, my answer too quick, my question too innocent.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Like that,” he says, gesturing to my face. “Like you’re—like you pity me.”

“I don’t.” When he looks skeptical, I go on, “I’m not. I don’t!”

It’s not a lie, exactly, but it’s not wholly true, either.

Finally I sigh under Dom’s stare. “I just think it’s sad. Your dad really seems great. And your mom was too, I’m sure. And now my mom comes in and…” I don’t know how to describe it, so I make an explosion sound as I mime something blowing up.

It’s only when Dominic’s expression shifts that I realize how depressed I sound. “Oh, no,” I say quickly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

I don’t even know what I’m trying to reassure him of. I just know that it’s what I’ve always done—tell people I’m fine, because it’s easier than explaining, and I sound stupid when I try to explain anyway.

It’s one of the great frustrations of my life: I can never adequately put words to what’s wrong with my mother, because taken in parts, nothing sounds particularly bad. She doesn’t hit me. She doesn’t scream at me. She doesn’t take joy in my pain. I grew up with a roof over my head and food on the table.

I’m luckier than most of the world with all of these things.

But my heart races when I speak against her. My hands shake. Tears jump to my throat for no reason. I gauge what mood she’s in and adjust my behavior accordingly; I do it without thinking. I know what her footsteps sound like when she’s angry, what they sound like when she’s not, because at some point my mind thought that information needed to be learned.

Is that normal? Are these things okay?

My heart crumbles a bit, because I have the horrible, sinking feeling that no—my relationship with my mother is not normal. And it’s not okay.

I take a deep breath and turn to Dom. “So,” I say, injecting new energy into the word. “What’s our plan moving forward? Our parents have been dating for…” I tilt my head. “A month?”

Dominic nods, accepting my change in subject. “Yeah, probably a month. Maybe a little more.”

“I think it would be helpful to hear how Daryl feels about my mother at this stage in their relationship.” My voice is brisk and businesslike, a relief to hear. “Alvina really likes him. But last time we spoke, she seemed to feel like he was too good for her.”

Dom’s brows notch upward in surprise.

“I know,” I say, but I shrug. “It was a rare moment of self-awareness that was very depressing and very uncomfortable. That was the gist, though.” Then I swallow. “She seemed sad. Like she wanted a good relationship with a man like Daryl, but didn’t think she was capable of it.”

Folding his arms, Dom wrinkles his nose, his brow furrowing. “That…is depressing.”

“Yep,” I say tonelessly. “It was when you and I ate in the alley on Main—the donuts. I had talked to her the night before.”

“Ah.” His expression clears with understanding, and he settles comfortably against his mother’s grave.

“Are you allowed to lean on that?” I say, my eyes dropping to the headstone.

He shrugs easily. “Seems sturdy enough. She never minded when she was alive.”

It’s a lovely thought.

“See what you can find out from your dad,” I say. “How he’s feeling about Alvina. We’ll move forward from there.”

Dominic nods and stands up. “Should we head out?” he says, dusting his hands off.

“Yeah,” I say, sending my silent goodbye to Sally Harper and then to my dad. “Let’s go home.”