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Her eyes dropped down to the ground, and she looked a little sheepish. “You, um, you mentioned it in one of your Insta stories once.”
“I did?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It was when you were touring with Grease, and you stopped in a Best Western and recorded yourself at the coffee bar.”
“Oh, right.”
She turned back and grabbed a bowl from beneath the sink.
I stared at her in total shock for two reasons. One, I had no clue my mom watched my stories; she must have a Finsta account because her main page didn’t even follow me. Two, the Grease tour I did was six years ago; how could she possibly remember my coffee order from that?
“So, do you want to talk about it?” she asked as she broke the eggs into a bowl and whisked them with a fork.
I took a deep breath and then did something I never would have imagined myself doing; I talked to my mom about my life. I told her about how hard it had been living in New York. I told her about how much anxiety and depression I’d had. I told her about my feelings for Kane. I told her that we’d hooked up. Three times. I told her how much I’d loved being here this summer and how I felt like I’d found myself again. I told her about how much I’d missed drawing and how working on the book had given me back a piece of myself. I told her about the offer from the reality show. I told her about Kane’s reaction to my news. I told her how scared I was to throw away my dreams and to fail. I told her how scared I was to follow my dreams, which I was fairly sure weren’t my dreams anymore.
I told her everything.
She listened without interrupting, which was another mark-it-on-the-calendar milestone.
When I was finished, she served me a plate of scrambled eggs with ketchup and toast with butter, sugar, and cinnamon on it, just like Remi used to make me. I knew that there was no way she’d know about that from Instagram. I hadn’t eaten this meal since I was eight because it made me miss my brother.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to hide my third shock of the morning that she’d known and remembered my favorite breakfast. I took a bite and sighed.
She sat down across from me and asked, “So what are you going to do?”
I had no idea what I was going to do. I didn’t want to be on a reality show. I didn’t want my entire life filmed. I didn’t want to go back to the grind of auditioning, rehearsing, and performing. I wanted to stay here, in Wishing Well. But I also wanted to be with Kane. If that wasn’t going to happen, I wasn’t sure I could stay here.
“I just…I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do,” she stated confidently.
“I do?”
“Do you want to do the reality show?” she asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to move back to New York?”
“No.”
“Do you want to take the job offer at the afterschool program and keep working on your writing?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so there’s your answer.”
“But what about Kane?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “What about him?”
“I don’t know if I can, you know…after everything that’s happened. I don’t know if I can live in the same town as him and see him date and settle down with someone.”
My mom reached out and covered my hand with hers. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “This decision has nothing to do with Kane. If you are happy here, which I think you are, and you say you are, then you should stay. And if Kane has half a brain in his head, which I think he does, then he’ll realize that you two are meant to be together. If not, then that’s his loss.”
“But it’s not just about him…” Yes, it was, but I was just making excuses because I wasn’t sure I could handle it just being his loss. “I have spent my entire life working for this.”
Her fingers squeezed my hand. “Ruby, you are special. You are beautiful, talented, and smart, and you can do anything you want. I have no doubt in my mind that if you go back to New York, you will do amazing on that show and get your shot at Broadway again. You will. I know it. But then what? If that’s not what makes you happy, then what’s the point? Isn’t that what life should really be about? Happiness?”
