She blinked. “Amir.” She said his name slowly. “The boy who was rich of heart. Of course I remember him.”
“He’s here. He’s come back.”
The skin around Rosalie’s lips seemed to tighten. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“I... I love him, Rosalie,” I said helplessly.
She sucked in her breath.
“I needed to tell you myself. I needed to tell you how sorry I am for the pain I’m causing your family. I want to thank you for everything you have done for me. I’m afraid that you will never know how much you mean to me. I’m afraid that you will only remember me as the girl who betrayed you. And I am so sorry for that.”
Rosalie stood very still. I had the sense that she was torn between slamming the door in my face and embracing me. I was relieved when she crossed her arms over her chest. She sighed deeply. It was not a hug, but it was not a closed door, either.
“I don’t know what to say. I’d like to talk to my son.”
I nodded. Rosalie put her hand on the door as though to close it, but then stopped. She drummed her fingers on the door, her brow furrowed with thought. I waited.
“There was a time,” she said at last, “when I advised you to leave the past behind. I fear now that I pushed you into a relationship with Will—”
“No, no. IlovedWill, though I know he’ll never believe it now.”
“But if I hadn’t encouraged you, you might have waited for Amir.”
“Rosalie, I loved Will,” I said again. “You have no blame in this.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” She straightened taller. “I need to call Will.”
I nodded. As I turned away, I felt her hand on my shoulder.
“You know, Merrow,” she said, “somehow, at some point, it’s going to be okay.”
They were simple words, but they were the same ones I’d heard my mother say the night before. They made me think of the push and pull of the surf against the sand.
“Thank you,” I told her, and then we said goodbye.
