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“You did?”
Her nod was robotic.
“Oh, Mira.” She grasped her hand. “Why would you ever think that?”
“I don’t know. I guess because I was around Ian’s age and grumpy and probably a pain in the ass to be around. And he’d stopped taking me camping and hiking. And when you’re a teenager, you think everything is your fault.” Words poured out of her like water from a dam she’d spent a lifetime plugging up with her fingers. “And we never talked about it. He never told me what happened. You never told me what happened. All both of you ever said was that it didn’t work out, or that sometimes love wasn’t enough, or some other Hallmark card country song bullshit that always felt like you’d just decided not to tell me the truth.”
“Listen to me, Mira,” her mom said, squeezing her fingers so hard her bones whined. “It wasnotyour fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. It’s no excuse, but Fred broke my heart when he moved away. But he was a good man, not like your father,” she said hotly. “I never looked back after I finally told him to hit the road.”
“You kicked Dad out too!” Mira cried, wondering if this was some sort of Mandela effect thing, the Berenstein/stain Bears of childhood divorce.
“Of course I did. Didn’t you know that?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I did not. You never told me anything about Dad. I always thought—”
Her mom sat back in her chair with awhoosh. “You thought they both left us?”
What Mira had thought,as a matter of fact, was that she’d somehow driven them both off. “I did.”
“Oh, sweetie, no. Your father needed to go, and the only reason I don’t regret every year I spent with that man is because without him, I wouldn’t have you. But Fred thought you hung the moon. I should have told you that. I should have been more considerate of you and your feelings. These days, we’d all be going to therapy after a divorce. But back then, things were different. Back then we just tucked it all away.” She raised a shoulder. “And life went on.”
“Life went on,” Mira echoed numbly. Was that what her life was doing now? Going on? Because it sure as shit didn’t feel like it.
“But I should have told you,” her mom repeated, giving Mira’s hand another squeeze before letting her go. “And I am so sorry I didn’t. I am so sorry you thought any of it was your fault.”
Hot tears filling her eyes until they were all she could see, Mira said, “Mom, why is it all so hard?”
“Because if life was easy, we’d all be insufferable assholes.”
Mira gave her a watery laugh.
“Sometimes I think the only perk of possibly losing my mind is that I won’t remember all my mistakes.”
“Mom, please don’t—”
“I hope you’ll make fewer mistakes than I made,” she went on. “Have fewer regrets.” She looked at the cake one last time. “I hope you’ll have the courage to find the beauty in life’s messes. I’d like that for you.”
And with that, she left Mira alone with a heavy silence, an aching heart, and an uninspiring cake. Slowly, Mira’s mind slipped back to the day Cole had been in the kitchen with her, when he’d kissed her against the door, asked for one of her sketches. When he’d held her later that night while she’d cried, then tucked her in, plugging in her twinkly lights so it wouldn’t be dark when she woke up.
No, she wouldn’t make fewer mistakes than her mom. She wouldn’t have fewer regrets. She wasn’t courageous. She was scared and guarded and overthought everything, and because of it, she’d probably be alone forever. Without multiple orgasms, without laughing herself to sleep, without ever being tucked in again. Without Cole.
“Fuck,” she whispered harshly as fresh tears blurred the cake in front of her, smearing frosting flowers, bleeding blue into pink into red. She blinked her tears free, and there it was.
Sometimes it’s the mess that makes life beautiful.
Not bothering to wipe her eyes dry, Mira slid the clean and neat and perfectly wrong cake out of the way. Grasping her sketchpad, she swiped the nearest colored pencil off the table, decided to search for the beauty in the mess, and started drawing.
* * *
“Can you slow down?”Jen shouted, doing her best to hold the cake steady in the back of the Element. “I’m not an octopus. I don’t have six arms.”
“Sorry.” Mira let her foot off the gas. “Wait, did you saysixarms?”
“This is your best work yet.” Jen beamed like a headlight in the rearview. “Everyone’s gonna love it. Your phone’ll be ringing off the hook! It’s so beautiful, nobody will even want to eat it! But they will, of course. Because it’s cake.”
Mira did her best to beam back. This was everything she’d ever wanted, her literal dreams coming true, but her beam was a flickering fluorescent at best. “I hope you’re right,” she said, trying to sound like she cared, like she wasn’t still checking her phone every ten minutes in case the one person she did care about texted or called or,shit, she’d take liking one of her Instagram posts at this point.
“Here we are,” Jen squealed. At least she was excited.
