Page 136 of These Secret Years

“I don’t hate it.”

“I know I haven’t paid enough attention⁠—”

“You’ve got a lot going on.”

“How’s that an excuse?” Her tears spill over her lower lids now, and I wonder if the good mood she was in at dinner was all just a front.

“Look, hey. Whatever you’re feeling bad about, I forgive you, all right? I’m fine. I get that it couldn’t have been easy being a single mom.”

“I should have done more.”

Instead of saying, like what? I say, “You did enough.”

It’s not true, of course. But if she starts telling me about all the things she thinks she could have done better, and I start wishing she had—I might break down, too, and I’ve done enough of that over the last few days. I’m done with all of it now. The past is in the past. I have my whole life ahead of me. I’m fucking free goddamnit.

She sniffs and wipes at her tears.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, to head off any talk of what might have been.

“Yeah. Yes,” she blurts. “Everything is great. Your sister’s thriving. I’m a supervisor at the store now, so I only have to have the one job. I have some savings—I’m even dating someone.”

“Excuse me, you’re dating?” I ask with a false measure of interest.

She waves a hand dismissively. “He’s just a man from town. He runs the bookstore. He recently lost his wife to cancer. Well, it wasn’t so recently. Three years. Anyway—his kids are all grown, and we got to talking one day while he was in my store, and…we’ve been on a few dates.”

“What’s his name?”

“William. Will.”

“That’s nice. I mean, is he nice?”

“No red flags so far. It’s only been a few weeks.”

“Wow. Is he coming for Christmas?”

She goes from blushing maiden to red alert in less than a heartbeat. “Oh, God no. He’s got family. He’s in Indiana right now. We have tentative plans for New Year’s, but no. It’s much too soon.”

“But you think he may be around for next Christmas?” I press, thinking now about my father and whether this will mess him up or not.

The last time I talked to my dad, he was still supposedly clean, other than THC, and still living with that weird younger dude in the trailer. Davy. His “roommate.” But that was months ago, now that I’m thinking about it. Maybe I was too social last semester. Maybe I was too selfish. Again. I should have checked in. I’m tempted to ask my mom what she knows, but she really does seem happier, if a little drunk, and my father is nothing if not a sore subject for her.

“I guess anything’s possible,” she says.

My phone dings with a text, and I look at it. It’s Knight, saying he’ll be dropping my car off tomorrow morning around ten if that’s okay. I reply with a “sounds good” and look back up at my mom.

“Friend?” she asks.

“I’m gay,” I tell her.

She blinks several times in quick succession. “Okay.”

There’s silence everywhere.

“Boyfriend?” she finally asks, and I’ve got to give her a lot of credit for that.

“Not exactly.” I frown back down at the phone. “I guess it’s complicated.”

“He’s not the one...” She makes a limp gesture at the cast I have resting on the table.