The door opened.
“I won’t stay.”
Mom stepped in, holding out a cup to me.
I sipped the too-weak coffee. To her credit, she hadn’t asked many questions when I arrived with my meager belongings, smelling like booze and looking like I’d crawled out from behind a dumpster.
I could have stored my things downstairs and slept in the shop. But I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. The shelves, the spines with the name of John’s father on them.
It was impossible to think of anything related to Lew Elliot and not think of John. The two thoughts had formed a symbiosis. I hated him for it. Lew Elliot’s books had always been an escape for me—worlds without borders, where tangible evil lurked but things made sense. In those stories, people didn’t lose their homes or jobs. Girls didn’t lose their dads to something as mundane as a car crash. Or have to live with the guilt of surviving it. In that universe, little girls became captains, raided ships, and defeated slime monsters from planet Urug. Maybe they lost someone, but it was always for a purpose—a sacrifice or a plot device to propel the main character to victory, saving thousands. Real life gave you nothing for your loss. It was just…pointless pain. A void where someone should be.
I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and imagined John as a multi-headed monster—something I could defeat.
At some point, I logged out of my fan fiction account. The first time in almost a decade.
While I lay in my own filth, Mom baked. Her way of sayingI’m here for you.
And when the first taste of apple pie hit my tongue, the dam broke. I sobbed like I hadn’t in years. A river of tears flooded my plate. Snot ran down my face. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.
And then I told her. About the late payments. About the bills that kept piling up. About my fear of losing even the last bits of Dad. About the competition. Well, not all of it.
“I’ve asked too much of you,” she said, suddenly looking angry.
“No, Mom—” I started.
“Yes, Nora. I have. And I should’ve told you to stop being such a chicken.”
“Excuse me?” I sniffed, that comment coming out of nowhere.
“You keep running away from your future because I’m holding you back. And I’ve been so selfish to not call you out on it.”
I shook my head. “Thisis my future.” Or it was, once. “The store. You. That’s all I need.”
She tilted her head. “I want you to do what makes you happy. And maybe even find someone who loves you the way your father loved me.” She brushed my arm, then kept her hand on my shoulder.
“Dad broke you,” I said, sharper than I intended.
Her hand fell to her side. She suddenly looked exhausted. “But I never regretted meeting him. Having you. Even though it hurt, I wouldn’t have it any other way. When you brought John, I thought, ‘That’s it.’”
I winced at the sudden pain. “John and I aren’t—” His name on my tongue made it impossible to swallow. “We weren’t real.”
Mom scrunched up her delicate face, and I saw the lines atop her nose crinkle, just like John said. Like a cat.
“It started with an excuse, and then it just grew from there.”
She raised a brow. “I don’t believe that for a second. The way you looked at each other.”
I stared at the Dana Scully poster above my bed. “Some of it was real, I guess. Doesn’t matter. It’s over now.” Tears welled up again. At this rate, I’d be completely dehydrated in an hour.
“Nora.Liebling.” She took my plate from me, then climbed into bed beside me, pulling my head onto her bony shoulder. Her skin smelled of vanilla extract and rose perfume. No alcohol. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d been so close. Another wave of tears spilled.
I hugged her back tightly, not wanting to lie anymore. “There’s something else, Mom. After the accident. The doctor told me that I…I won’t be able to have children.”
She pulled away slightly, cupping my face.
“I know you wished for grandchildren?—”
Mom swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”
