Page 79 of Head Under Water

I find her in the kitchen, organizing the cabinets. Like me, when life gets messy, she tends to retreat into the controllable. I sink down onto the floor next to her, and she glances over at me. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Any news on Margie?”

“She’s still sedated. No new bleeding or swelling as of around two, so we’ll just continue to be thankful for the positives.” She eyes me. “What’s wrong?” she asks again, this time more pointed.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” She slips a pan into the cabinet and then turns to face me. “Tell me.”

I groan. “It’s just Will. He and I got into a fight, and I’ve tried so hard to not let that happen. He’s going through so much and…I don’t know. It was my fault. I let him get to me.”

She watches me, waiting to see if I’ll say more. When I don’t, she says, “You and Will have always figured it out. It won’t be any different this time. You need each other now, maybe more than you ever have.”

I purse my lips. “You’ve never really seen us for what we are.”

It’s true. Even as kids, Mom never really listened to me when I complained about Will. All the moms treated us as siblings, simply letting us work through our issues alone, which usually resulted in us ignoring each other for months at a time. It’s why we spent less and less time together as we got older, until the line was firmly drawn that night at the bonfire.

I force the thought away. I can’t go back there. I just can’t.

“I see that he cares about you,” she says softly, her eyes searching mine. “Almost as much as I do.”

I scoff. “Will can’t stand me.”

Her brows quirk, amused. “He tries to tell himself that sometimes, but it doesn’t make it true.”

This is just how Mom is. She won’t accept the reality we’re in. “Anyway, I’m trying to help him through this. And we got into it, which obviously isn’t helping, so I came here because I’m avoiding talking to him again.”

“All Will needs is for you to be there for him. And you need him.” She pats my hand. “You’re going through this too, honey. It’s not just Will and Cory.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Maybe not. But it’s not all that different. Margie was a parent to you, too. She took you to doctor’s appointments when I had to work. She took you shopping for junior prom when I was sick. She made sure you learned how to parallel park. You had as many meals at her house, or Ruth’s, as you did here. You had three mothers, and I’ve always known it. We were lucky that way.” Her face goes sad, eyes glistening with sudden tears. She brushes them away, sniffling. “Anyway, I guess that explains why Will was at Margie’s last night.”

My brain skids to a stop. “What?”

“I saw the light on over there from my bedroom window. I assumed Cory had gone over there, but when I asked him this morning, he said he never left the house. Must’ve been Will.”

I think back over last night, double-checking my memory. “No. Will never left the apartment.”

She pinches her lips together, eyes hazy as she thinks. “Hmm. Well, maybe I’m wrong.”

But she doesn’t look like she believes that.

“You saw someone at Margie’s?”

She gives a slow nod. “Well, I thought so. Maybe a light got left on. I’ll go over later and check⁠—”

“Mom,” I say firmly, dread swimming through me. “It’s time we all start taking this seriously. First Ruth, then Margie. Someone might hurt you next. If you saw a light on, you should’ve called the police.”

“I told you, I thought it was Cory. And anyway, you’re being dramatic. The police have more important things to do.”

“Two of your friends were attacked.”

“Two of my friends…” Her eyes wander off, unable to finish her thought. “Opal. That’s enough. I can’t keep doing this. No one hurt Margie or Ruth.” She stares down at her hands, then, under her breath, she adds, “Not physically.”

Her voice is so soft I almost miss that last part. “What does that mean?”

She turns back to the pans on the floor. “It means I’m fine. Or I would be if you’d leave this alone.”