It’s who she is. Who she’s always been. And as angry as it’s made me sometimes, it’s a quality, too. Eileen’s right about this. I might not agree with her choices, but it doesn’t mean I have to keep holding them against her.
“It’s a shitty fucking situation,” I say, fingers buried in my childhood dog’s fur.
“Language.”
I roll my eyes, because I can’t believethisis what she wants to focus on, but I rephrase, “It’s a crappy situation. But we’re stuck in it, and you’re right that I can’t know everything.”
The road in front of Keira’s house is calm; no sounds but the chirp of birds in the forest ahead. Thick fir trees hide us from the sun, the air almost chilly this morning. I turn to Mom, finding her gaze already on me. “I forgive you.” I may never forget what happened to us as kids, but I can decide to move on. Let go.
They’re only three words, eleven small letters, but saying them feels like unbuckling a belt that’d been choking me for a long time and finally taking in a deep breath. You don’t forgive for others, Eli told me once. You forgive for yourself. And he was right. This is as much for me as it is for her. And more than that, I think I figured out that she and I aren’t so different after all. We’re bothstuck in our messed-up coping mechanisms. Mine is to run. Hers is to stay and pretend like everything’s okay. I can’t wholeheartedly judge her for something I can’t stop doing, either.
A hiccup comes out of Mom’s throat. I exhale and lean over so the side of my head can rest against her shoulder. She smells the same way she has for as long as I’ve known her, like the strong floral perfume she gets at the local drug store. Dottie shifts in my arms so her snout rests on Mom’s arm.
Will I ever understand her choices? Probably not. But that doesn’t mean she deserves to bear all the blame for what someone else made us go through.
“And if you ever do decide to leave him and need a place to stay, you give me a call. Okay?”
She sniffs, then puts her sun-damaged hand on my arm. “Okay, honey.”
Chapter 39
The choir recital takes place in the community room behind the library.
I thought there would be three, maybe four sets of parents out here, but the room is packed. Apparently, choir is back in. I hold tightly to Eli’s hand and keep my face close to his shoulder as we find our seats at the front of the room. If it were any other situation, I’d hide in the back, but I want Zoe to be able to see us out in the audience more than I want my anonymity. I’m leaving tomorrow. This is the least I can do for her.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Eli says as we sit in the second row. “This plant is horrible.”
I look down at the gift I got for Zoe sitting in my lap. “I know.”
“She’ll love it.”
I grin. “I know.”
Soon, the lights dim, and the crowd shouts like this is a Beyoncé concert. Two dozen kids come out and find their spots. Then, they start singing.
“Stop laughing,” Eli whispers in my ear as they enter a mash-up of “Sorry Ms. Jackson” and “No Scrubs”; two songs these kids have obviously never heardin their lifetime.
“You were right,” I say, trying really freaking hard to keep my face neutral. “They’re so bad.”
“Yeah, horrible.” Then, he whoops like this is the kind of show you throw random whoops for.
“You’re overdoing it.”
He snickers against my cheek, then presses a kiss to my jaw. He does it so effortlessly that for a second, I can imagine it; our life together. Drives to choir practices while listening to those terrible Kid’s Bops covers, teasing each other in the kitchen while trying out new cookie recipes, attending school events together like we both belong here.
My throat tightens, and it becomes even worse when the music slows to “Amazing Grace” and Zoe steps forward for her solo. I’d be lying if I said she’s a great singer. But I know the courage it’s taken her to step out like this and stand tall in front of this group of kids who haven’t been nice to her. It doesn’t matter that she’s off key or that her voice cracks on the highest note. It brings tears to my eyes all the same.
I feel Eli’s gaze on me when I sniffle. Between the seats, he finds my hand and holds it. I squeeze tighter.
She looks so beautiful up there. Fearless. This little girl will grow up to live a grand, wonderful, happy life. And even if I’m not here to see it, I’ll always cheer her on from the sidelines.
When the song comes to an end, I don’t care about anyone else in that room. I jump to my feet and clap so hard my hands hurt. Eli joins me on his feet, too, whooping once more. Afew others stand up awkwardly, and when “Unwritten” starts to play and Zoe returns in line with the others, we sit back down.
The concert doesn’t last long after that, and the second it’s over, the kids walk off stage and to their parents, not pretending to hide behind the curtains again. We stand to get to Zoe, but we’re stopped by Mrs. Graham, the pleasant ex-First Lady of this town. Why is she even here? It’s not like she has a kid in this group. Thankfully, this time she ignores me, only focusing on Eli as she tells him just how wonderful the food was at her son’s birthday party last weekend. I ignore her, too, and look for Zoe in case she thinks we left before coming to congratulate her, but what I see is so much worse.
A little girl close to her age with bright-red hair and diamond studs gives her a hug, only to subtly pull at her ponytail.
Oh, now I’m kicking some six-year-old ass.
